#thank you so much everyone! for the comms and for your patience

[serennes-art]

final batch of emblemcon comms!

[bravo4iscool]

you’re kidnapped (simon “ghost” riley)

this little os is from this anon right here!

TW: mentions of blood and gore, hints of torture, russians (please get the joke😭), serious injuries

word count: 1.9k

(masterlist)

Ghost storms into the meeting, his eyes blown wide and his chest heavily heaving. He’s still clutching his phone in his hand and any other person would be afraid of breaking it.

Price looks up, clearly confused. But before the Captain can talk Ghost shuts the door behind him.

“They have her,” he says in a low voice and to someone who doesn’t know Ghost it would sound normal, but to Price it didn’t. His best Lieutenant, the man who feared nothing, was anxious. His voice was off and Price could see nothing but pure fear in Ghost’s eyes.

“They got who?” Soap asks, turning his head at Ghost. What the fuck was his LT. talking about?

But Ghost doesn’t pay any attention to the Scot. He keeps staring at Price. “They have my wife,” he then says and Soap’s brain shortcuts.

What the fuck? Ghost had a wife? The Sergeant looks at Price and now he’s even more confused. Price knows about that wife?

Price eyes narrow and he stands up. “You figured where she is already?” he asks and Ghost shakes his head.

“No. But Laswell’s onto it. She still owns me one.”

“Good. Any indication where she could be?” Price starts walking around, his gaze not leaving Ghost.

“Yes.”

Price claps his hands together and nods at Ghost. “Well then, let’s gear up and roll out. We don’t have much time.”

Ghost slightly narrows his head and Price knows that the look in the Lieutenants eyes means ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’

Soap hesitantly stands up, still more than confused but as soon as Ghost leaves the room he runs after his superior.

He needs to find out since when Ghost has a wife and why his LT. never told him and Gaz about her.

-

“LT.” Soap speaks into the comms as he carefully surrounds an enormous brick building somewhere in the outer regions of Manchester.

“What do ya want Soap?” Ghost’s voice is on an edge as he answers his Sergeant. His finger, placed on the trigger, twitches. He’s more than ready to slaughter everyone who’s separating him from his wife.

“Since when do ye hav’ a lass? Why’d ye never told us ‘bout ‘er?” Soap carefully lifts his rifle and opens a back door. He was in. It was only a matter of time when he’d engage with the enemy.

“Ya nev’r asked,” is Ghost’s short reply as he skillfully shoots down a tango. He moves further forward, his eyes snapping from left to right.

He wasn’t allowed to make a mistake. Your life was at risk and he would and could never forgive himself if he’d lose you just because he made a damn mistake.

He checked door after door and slowly he was running out of patience but then Gaz started to talk via comms.

“I think I found her.”

“Where are you?” Ghost stops and suddenly his head starts to spin. They found you? Would he finally be able to rescue you?

“2nd floor, three doors from the staircase.” Gaz’ voice was quiet and hushed.

“Are you 100% postitive?” Price now asked and Gaz confirmed.

“Was I ever wrong?” he asks in a playful voice and Ghost rolls his eyes. This was serious. This wasn’t training or anything. This was about you.

“You fell outta a chopper,” Soap snorts and giggles to himself as he continues to clear the building.

“Fuck off MacTavish,” Gaz grumbles the reply, shutting the comms off.

-

Your eyes are heavy and your head spins, your ears ringing as the man opposite to you starts to interrogate you again.

You stopped paying attention and replying god knows how long ago but they didn’t stop. They kept going, even slapping you harshly from time to time. You don’t feel it anymore though.

There’s blood running from you nose, you’re mouth and you’re pretty sure your cheek bones are also covered in bruises. You just want this to be over. You just want Simon to rescue you.

“Так,” you hear the man say and moments later you feel a pair of hands lifting your head to look at him. Another man held your face so you’d look at your interrogator.

“Вы хотите поговорить сейчас?,” he asks you and you give yourself imaginary shoulder pats for actually learning Russian back in school.

You say nothing, only shaking your head. The man laughs. “As stubborn as that husband of yours.” He turns to look at one of his men, motioning at you. “стрелять в неё.” Then he leaves.

Your eyes widen as one of the man, you were pretty sure they called him Vita, pointed his hand gun at you.

You start to struggle against your restraints, fresh tears running down your cheeks. You couldn’t- You couldn’t die. Not yet, not now! What about Simon? What about the life you two wanted to build?

“Little brat,” Vita curses as he tries to follow you head with his gun but you were struggling too much.

“просто нажать на курок” another man, Maxim, tells Vita, obviously nervous. He’s been talking via comms for the last minutes but your Russian was too bad to understand all of it.

“They’re here Vita and it won’t take them long to find us, so cut it short. Now!” Maxim’s voice is strained and he keeps checking the door. You knew what that meant. They found you. Ghost found you. Not Simon, no… now he was Ghost.

“He will kill you, rip you apart,” you then say, feeling blood drip from your mouth. “He will hunt you down and make sure you’ll regret anything you ever did.” You stare at Vita, waiting for him to shoot, praying that he wouldn’t.

“поторопитесь, вита,” Maxim urges again, his eyes flicking to the door. He heard something.

Vita looks at you, then at the door. The moment his eyes flick to the door it’s kicked in and it’s raining bullets.

You shut your eyes, making yourself as small as possible while you hear Vita and Maxim drop dead to the floor. Your body is shaking and you feel tears running down your cheeks.

When Ghost sees you strapped to that chair all his fuses blow. He rushes past the dead bodies and rips off his mask. He kneels down in front of you, carefully speaking to you.

“Lovie, it’s me…” he says and he lets out a relieved breath when you look at him, eyes empty.

When he’s sure you know who he is he quickly cuts you free and carefully takes you in his arms. Your wrists are bruised and bloody, as well as your face but he’s never been happier to have you in his arms.

“Ya safe now. ‘Am ‘ere and I’ll get ya outta ‘ere.” He presses you close to him and a single tears rolls down his cheek. He’s got you back. You’re safe now. You’re with him…

Price walks into the room, tightly gripping his rifle. “Everything’s clear. We’re ready for evac. Is she okay? Does she need a medical?” He walks in further, looking at your fragile form in Ghost’s arms.

“She’s fine f’r now I think,” Ghosts replies and he carefully stands up, holding you close in his arms. “We’ll get ya outta ‘ere,” he mumbles and you warily nod. You just wanted to go home…

Carefully Ghost stands up, his arms around you tightening. “Let’s go?” he says to Price and the Captain nods.

“Gonna watch your six,” Price says. Ghost nods, a subtle but deep ‘thank you’.

With faithful steps Ghost hurries out of the room, his eyes flicking down to you again and again. “You shouldn’t carry me…” you whisper, well aware of the fact that you were probably slowing him down.

He doesn’t look at you, only scanning the surroundings with his eyes. “I fucked ya against a wall. I’ll be able t’ carry ya outta ‘ere.” That’s his answer. Simple and plain.

You try to suppress a small smile but you can’t. You press your face against his vest, whispering a quiet ‘I love you’. And while your husband carries you out of that building your feel your head starting to spin and dizziness overcomes you…

-

“What d’ya mean, internal bleeding?” Ghost paces up and down in the hospital corridor, not caring about the fact that people were staring at him. Of course you would stare at a 6’4 man who’s build like a fucking fridge and wears a skull mask. He often found him staring at himself in the reflection of windows.

“She’s got internal bleeding, Sir. That’s also the reason why she’s in surgery,” a nurse calmly explains, not frightened by the man in front of her. “As soon as I get new information I will tell them to you, but right now, I’m afraid, there’s not much I can do for you, Sir…”

Ghost wants to swear and curse but he knows that he needs to keep himself at bay. He wasn’t alone here, people were watching. He needed to calm himself down. Now.

So, he lets out a deep breath and nods. “Tell me when she’s out as soon as possible, please.” He tries to not show how anxious he is but his but his wife was in surgery right now because he wasn’t able to properly look after her… He wanted to explode.

“Of course Sir,” the nurse gives him a warm smile. “Feel free to sit down or get yourself a coffee. It could take a while…” Ghost absently nodded and she left. What was he supposed to do now?

“Any news?” Price wants to know when the team joins Ghost in the hospital. He just shakes his head and puts it in his hands.

If he’d only looked better after you…

If he’d only was more careful…

If he’d only kept you safe…

“Still ‘n surgery,” he mumbles, trying so hard not to go crazy. He’s been waiting hours now, but it felt like days. His head was spinning, thoughts were crashing in his mind and guilt was almost eating him alive. What had he done?

“She’ll make it son, don’t worry,” Price says in a calm voice, placing his hand on his Lieutenant’s shoulder. “She’s a fighter. Just like you…”

-

Your head hurts when your senses return and you start stirring. Then you feel a hand on yours and your eyes fly open. Where are you?

With panicked eyes you look around, completely ignoring the pain in the back of your head. Was this a…hospital?

“Darling,” you hear a voice. That sounds like Simon… Your eyes follow the voice and you look at your husband. “Hey…” he smiles at you, clutching your hand. “How are ya?”

“Shit,” you whisper in a small voice, trying your best to return the squeezes he gave your hand. Then he gently lifts it and presses a small kiss onto the back of it.

“Am sorry,” he says while he continues to caress your hand and wrist. “Should’ve look’d out bett’r f’r ya…” He averts his gaze and you immediately try to shake your head. You knew he would beat himself up over what happened. It wasn’t his fault.

“Not your fault,” you croak out, intertwining your hands. He looks up with glassy eyes and you swear you’ve never seen him that destroyed.

“I could’ve lost ya…” he whispers. “Could’ve lost ya f’r good ‘nd I wouldn’t b’ able t’ f’rgive m’self.”

“I’m here,” you weakly smile. “And I surely won’t leave…” You would never leave Simon. He was the love of you life. When you’re with him you feel complete and you never wanted to miss out on that again.

[scarletsinnerz]

FREE MLP COMMISSIONS.

EXAMPLE OF MY ART BELOW:

[I did not draw the background, it's a screen shot from the MLP fim series]

Howdy guys!

I'm opening a Instagram store for LPS and MLP commissions, adopts, pfps, and more! It's still a wip so nothing is for sale yet. And because I don't have too many MLP drawings to show for example, I thought I would open a few FREE commissions!

Instagram store link here.

[I'd also like to sell LPS clothes, stickers, customs, etc. eventually as well, but it'll be a while before that happens-]

I can draw an original character of yours, whether that be a random MLP OC or I can draw your pony sona/self insert. I can also draw any of the canon/fandom ponies from the My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic series.

Or if you'd rather, I can make/design an adopt for you! You can give me some details/ideas you'd like included, or I can make the character from scratch and completely surprise you! I can also make a pony sona for you if you don't have one already. You can give me some details about you (things you like, fave colors, etc). And again, I can surprise you or you can tell me what/how you want to look like and I can draw it for you! (coat color, mane and tail color, length and style, cutie mark, whether you want to be a pegasus, unicorn, or Earth pony).

And if you don't know, I can choose for you on which I think best suits you out of the three! Whichever you'd like. We can go over and discuss more details if you want as well.

Don't be afraid to ask me any questions you may have!

The commission will be done digitally by me on procreate. It'll probably take me a week or a few to complete as I can be busy irl and I'll have multiple comms to do. So I ask you for your patience as I make this for you. Thank you.

I will be taking a total of 3 FREE commissions for now. But I may take more in the future. I'll make an edit on here and on my profile once all of the slots are taken. It is first come first serve, to make it fair.

Now for commission rules:

You can post it anywhere you want, but you MUST give me credit.

You cannot remove or alter my watermark/signature in anyway. This includes if you're using it as a pfp.

You cannot claim the drawing as your own creation, even if it is your OC, as I was the one who created it. Especially because the drawing is free, I think it's only fair that I receive credit in exchange.

I have every right to decline your comm for whatever reason.

I will only draw one character per commission. And it will be with a plain background only, as I don't have the time to draw backgrounds for everyone.

Please give me everything you have on your character that you want me to have in mind when drawing them.

You can print the artwork, but you cannot claim the drawing itself as your own creation. Again, please give me credit.

I reserve full rights to the image and it's use unless otherwise agreed upon.

I will do everything I can to make my customers happy! If you have a problem with anything, please let me know. I'm sure we can figure it out together.

That is everything for now, sorry for writing so much. ^^

REMEMBER THE COMM IS COMPLETELY FREE. 3 SLOTS OPEN ONLY!!!

[littlestpersimmon]

Hi guys- will not be able to work on comms today. I had collapsed earlier and cracked a tooth. In considerable pain because of the fall. I'll be back in commission tomorrow as soon as the pain subsides. Thank you so much for your patience with me. And please stay safe everyone.

Also, if you are religious.. would appreciate if you could include me in your prayers. Having a string of bad luck lately, and would really appreciate a change of... luck. Thank you

[2bu]

sorry to everyone who has reached out and gotten no reply yet i really needed to step offline for a few hours, talk to some loved ones and really decompress. I've had a very stressful week and am really anxious about the job I interviewed for since I've had such awful luck the past few months on top of us trying to finalize things with the court this past week as well. lots of stuff going on and i just was told some awful shit that just made me kind of snap.

i am safe and okay. just really exhausted. I'll reply to folks throughout the day/after i get some much needed sleep. i might take some time offline potentially as well so i can try focusing on comms/adopts and spend time with my partner in the case i will be starting work at the end of this month. thank you for caring and for your patience and support 🥺💜🦇

[moodymelanist]

But If She's A Ghost (Then I Can Be A Phantom)

happy last day of @cassianappreciationweek everyone! it’s been so amazing seeing everyone celebrate our favorite bar boy!!

this is part 2 to I Depend On Me from Nesta Week 2023, so if you haven’t already read that one you might be a little confused lol.

hope you all enjoy ❤️‍🔥 the final part of this series will be coming during @nessianweek hehehe

Summary: Cassian, Azriel, and Mor follow the Valkyries to try and finish their mission.

It doesn't quite go according to plan.

Word Count: 2,280

Read on AO3 here!

✵✵✵✵✵✵ Cassian 

Cassian had been hoping that Nesta and her friends would show up tonight, but getting to dance with her was practically the cherry on top. He could hardly believe his luck when she’d let him approach her, let alone wrap his arms around her and hold her close, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about it. 

The longer they traded innuendos and flirted back and forth, the more Cassian knew this was meant to be a distraction. But damn if he wasn’t having fun twirling Nesta around and holding her close. 

“I hate to dance and dash, but…” Nesta said once she’d finished her spin and faced Cassian again. “I’m afraid I’ve worn out my welcome.”

“And what if I want you to wear me out instead?” Cassian fired back without missing a beat. He knew she wouldn’t take him up on it, but he really did like this little game they had going. 

“Then I suppose you’ll have to keep holding your breath,” she replied, deftly stepping out of his hold once the song ended. “Have a good night, sir. It was lovely dancing with you.”

Cassian could only gape as Nesta bent over slightly and smoothed out the wrinkles on her dress, unable to tear his eyes away from the frankly ridiculous way her breasts were almost spilling out of her dress, before straightening up to walk away. Between her calling him sir and giving him a show like that, Cassian’s jaw had gone a little slack, and the little smirk she threw his way as she sashayed her way out of the gala only made the growing situation in pants even more pressing. 

“You two are disgusting,” Mor said as she slid into the empty spot Nesta had left behind. She dropped her voice into a mockery of Cassian’s as she repeated his comment to Nesta. “‘And what if I want you to wear me out instead?’ Gross.”

Cassian raised his arms and started dancing with Mor automatically, not wanting to piss off anyone else in the vicinity tonight. “Thanks for the support. Really, you’re so kind.”

“The only thing getting worn out is my patience,” Azriel muttered over the comms. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassian replied, rolling his eyes even though he knew Azriel couldn’t see him. “Laugh it up.”

“The other Valkyrie took the chipped card, so at least we have that going for us,” Azriel informed them. While Cassian had been working the floor, Mor had been the one to pick their target’s pocket and stick a near-undetectable tracking device on the back of his room key. “I need you two back at the rendezvous in the next ten minutes so we can follow them.”

“I love it when you talk technical to me,” Cassian responded, winking at Mor since he couldn’t wink at Azriel. 

Mor chuckled at Azriel’s loud sigh before fixing Cassian with an unimpressed look. “I think that’s enough flirting from you tonight, lover boy. Keep your head in the game.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cassian told her. He fired off a crisp salute before turning to follow her out of the gala. 

No one paid them much attention as they cut a path for the entrance, Cassian trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It was a little difficult when he was all big and tall as he was, but hopefully the most anyone would remember — if they remembered him at all — was wishing that they could’ve been the ones to leave with him instead of Mor.  

Once they made it back to the van Azriel was running this part of the mission from, they didn’t waste any time. Azriel pulled away from the curb and started driving, Mor immediately started stripping out of her red ball gown and into her familiar tactical suit, and Cassian swapped out his tuxedo jacket for a bulletproof vest. “Sitrep?”

“All we have to do is leave with the drive before the Valkyries do,” Azriel said as he continued to drive. “We can let them do all the hard work of getting into the room and cracking this guy’s safe for us.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Mor said back, only slightly out of breath as she yanked a thigh holster on and slid a gun into it. 

“Only if they don’t know we’re coming after them,” Cassian chimed in. He tightened the straps on his vest before changing out his shoes to something more practical. “They don’t fuck around.”

“They definitely know we’re coming now,” Mor grumbled. “ Someone just couldn’t help himself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassian responded, rolling his eyes. He’d known he was supposed to stay far away from Nesta and her friends, but he just hadn’t been able to help himself when he’d seen her in that goddamned dress. “I’m but a man, Mor.”

“You’re just lucky I was able to put that tracker on the card,” Mor told him. “Devlon would’ve had your ass if we fucked up the mission otherwise.”

“Yeah, like you wouldn’t have loved watching that,” Cassian sniped back good-naturedly. Devlon was their commanding officer and every time he yelled at Cassian, it was like Christmas came early for Mor. 

“Less bickering, more arming yourselves,” Azriel cut in with the air of someone tired of keeping them in line but long resigned to doing it anyway.

“Yes, Dad,” Cassian and Mor responded in perfect unison before they looked at each other, snickering. 

The three of them had been working together professionally for years, and had known each other personally for far longer than that. Cassian and Azriel had grown up together, the two of them both deciding to enlist, but they’d gone their separate ways when Cassian had joined the Marines and Azriel had gone Air Force. They hadn’t met Mor on account of her being Navy until they’d all worked their way through the ranks and gotten transferred to the same CIA unit. The higher-ups had noticed how well the three of them worked together, and the rest was history. Cassian couldn’t remember the last time he’d been assigned to work a mission without the two of them, and quite frankly he didn’t want to. They were more than his fellow soldiers; they were family, and one of the few people he trusted to watch his back as well as he’d watch theirs. 

“Alright, we’re approaching the location now,” Azriel said after a few minutes of silence. “The tracker hasn’t moved for the last few minutes, so we’ll go in and see where the rabbit hole leads us.”

“Are you actually coming inside with us?” Cassian asked, peering at Azriel curiously from the back seat. Azriel tended to prefer sitting back and planning their operations these days, only coming out into the field proper with them on rare occasions. “I feel like a proud parent right now.”

“Someone has to keep you idiots in line,” Azriel replied dryly. He pulled the van into an empty spot, making sure to double check that they didn’t need to feed the meter before the three of them headed toward their mission. 

Cassian had to laugh quietly at the mundanity of the thought that even highly-trained spies needed to make sure their getaway vans wouldn’t get towed. They all made sure their weapons were in working order before heading around the back of the hotel. 

The hotel had a service entrance that they took full advantage of, avoiding all the fanfare that entering through the front would’ve put them through. While they were waiting for the service elevator, Cassian sighed and turned to Azriel and Mor. 

“Let me try and talk to her first,” Cassian said. He wasn’t so delusional as to think Nesta would be swayed from her getting paid by him batting his eyelashes at her, but maybe they could work something out without it ending in a fight. “Before we go in guns blazing.”

Mor rolled her eyes so hard at him it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of her head. “She’s not falling for your lover boy act.”

“It’s definitely not an act,” Azriel muttered, pulling a little laugh out of Mor. 

“Just— let me see what I can do?” Cassian tried again as they got onto the elevator. 

“Fine. Thirty seconds,” Mor acquiesced. “But after that I’m shooting something.”

Azriel used a spoofed hotel key to get them to the fifteenth floor, and once they got off the elevator the three of them slowly crept their way down the floor until they made it to room 1536. They didn’t encounter a single soul on their way, and the hall was eerily silent even for a hotel as high class as this one. 

The Valkyries had been at the hotel for at least ten minutes — more than enough time for them to have broken into the room and started trying to crack whatever security Hale had around this drive. They didn’t have time to keep being subtle, so Cassian caught Mor and Azriel’s eyes before he counted to three and used their spoofed key to enter the room. 

“Well, well, well,” Cassian called out as he entered the suite. The key had made a little whirring noise once he’d used it, so there was no point in trying to sneak around; any operative worth their badge would’ve heard the noise. “What do we have here?”

Cassian got a quick glance at the other two Valkyries fiddling with a safe before Nesta filled his vision. She’d ditched the dark blue dress in favor of a suit that was remarkably similar to Mor’s, the material stretchy enough to show off her sweeping curves while also thick enough to protect her from a host of nasty injuries. She was pointing a gun directly at Cassian’s chest, bulletproof vest aside, and boy did she not look happy to see him. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Nesta said dryly. At Cassian’s smirk, her expression turned distinctly unimpressed. “That wasn’t a joke.”

“Mhmmm, I love it when you threaten me,” Cassian told her, still smirking. He loved nothing more than a dangerous woman, and Nesta was one of the most dangerous women he’d ever met. “Really gets me going.”

Just as expected, Nesta’s features morphed into an outraged glare. “Do you not possess any home training?”

“You know I can’t help it when it comes to you,” Cassian responded, his smirk turning into a more earnest smile as he looked at her. “Twice in one night. How could I be so lucky?”

“I wouldn’t call it luck,” Mor replied from behind him. At the sound of someone else’s voice joining the conversation, Nesta’s expression shut down completely, her eyes flitting around over Cassian’s shoulder as she cataloged the latest threat. “Maybe creative stalking.”

Damn. He supposed his thirty seconds had gone over much faster than he’d thought. The moment Mor stepped over the threshold, one of the other Valkyries — Emerie, he thought — appeared out of nowhere, darted around Nesta and Cassian, and aimed a roundhouse kick at Mor’s head. 

Mor ducked out of the way, and it was all the signal Cassian needed. He tried to take the gun out of Nesta’s hands but she’d clearly anticipated the movement and flung herself backwards out of his reach. Cassian rushed forward to create more space in the crowded entryway, allowing Azriel to dart around all of them to try and get to the last remaining Valkyrie who was still working on the safe. Azriel would be able to handle himself, and Mor could hold her own, too; Cassian didn’t have time to even think about worrying. Jokes and flirting aside, he had to devote all his energy to staying sharp while grappling with Nesta. 

It was absolutely exhilarating fighting Nesta. Cassian couldn’t stop smiling every time they connected, from him blocking her jabs to the way she’d use his force against him to dodge and weave around his punches. He’d almost forgotten how fast she was, how well-trained she was, and though his heart broke a little every time he thought of all the things she’d probably had to go through to get this good, a much larger part of him was so thankful that it had resulted in the two of them being here at the same time. 

As they fought around the room, Cassian and Nesta ended up closer to the large sliding doors that let out onto the suite’s balcony. Azriel and the redheaded Valkyrie from the gala had moved their fight to another part of the suite, leaving the two of them to duke it out near the enormous, floor to ceiling windows. If he hadn’t been so focused on his objective, Cassian would’ve loved to admire all the glittering lights of the city spread out below him. 

Unfortunately, those glittering lights also spelled out danger. Too quick for Cassian to react to, there was the sound of shattering glass, and something struck Cassian perfectly in the neck. The sharp sting of pain distracted him just enough for Nesta to swipe his legs out from under him and he hit the ground hard, disoriented between the sudden pain in his neck and the way he’d fallen like a sack of bricks. 

“Oh, fuck,” Cassian said, pulling what looked like a tranquilizer dart out of his neck. Whatever he’d been dosed with was strong; he could already feel his vision getting a little hazy around the edges. God, he couldn’t believe he was getting knocked out like this in front of her of all people; he’d never live this down. “Son of a—”

The last thing Cassian saw before he passed out was Nesta’s lips forming his name. 

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard | @thatsowlmazing

[elifinchsart]

Wanted to give a bit more coherent life update. For the last three and a half weeks (and possibly longer) I have been dealing with excess fluid in my cranium, causing extremely frequent migraines, nausea, occasional loss of sensation in limbs (thankfully my non dominant arm LOL) and my eyeballs are swollen in a weird shape that hurts + gives me temporary vision loss. The neurologist I've been seeing has decided to hold off on treatment until we have a cause for it (or rule out causes for it). I have an upcoming lumbar puncture this week as well as further MRIs so I'm hoping we have answers soon. This is they best option to figure out what's wrong with me medically but unfortunately means in the meantime I have to deal with the above symptoms (+ my previous disabilities) with very little relief besides OTC meds and self medicating with weed. With my symptoms I was no longer able to work my part time job and had to quit early before the season ended which was devastating as I really, really liked the job I had. Luckily, my parents are supporting me financially right now in addition to the government assistance programs I am on (again, already had health issues that only allowed me to work part time and have been having a rough summer). I do not need any donations or financial assistance at this time (though any nice words you have are appreciated!) I hope to open commissions back up some day so I can contribute to my own finances again (+ they're fun!) but for now they will have to remain indefinitely closed until I receive treatment and recover. If you have an outstanding commission I will be completing that for you! Thank you so much for your patience, it is very appreciated. I pride myself on quick turnaround time for my comms so it's been very frustrating to not be able to keep that up. I'm extremely thrilled the Blaseball Fatshion Zine was completed and so proud of and grateful to everyone who submitted work. Next up on my list is completing outstanding commissions and art trades. I have some personal projects I want to complete as well as some other plans with friends in the future but for now expect my art output to be a little slower than normal. That said no force in the world can stop me from drawing Tillman o7

[indeedcaptain]

Regulatory Relations, chapter 15: the miners

Hi, everyone!! I hope you're having a beautiful weekend.

Thank you for your patience, both with this chapter and with me being dramatically less responsive on here and tumblr recently. I’m on a project at work that is kicking my ass professionally and emotionally, but at least it ends in two weeks and I hope I can be a little more present after that. Please accept my apologies that I haven’t responded to any of your beautiful comments :(

I left this fic unrated for a reason. Explicit content ahead! If that’s not your jam, skip from the second star section break to the third. Otherwise, enjoy ;)

Thank you so much for being here and reading along with this adventure. I hope you like this chapter.

Also posted on AO3 here.

☆☆☆

“If anyone gets this message, please. Help us.” 

Kirk, Spock, and the beta shift bridge crew stood in silence as Overman Dima Marcus’s cry for help echoed through the room. Marcus panted as a third explosion rocked the frame, and he fell out of focus. He looked over his shoulder. The video ended.

“Play it again,” Kirk ordered, and Ortiz restarted the video. The rise and fall of static, the explosions, and Marcus’s dire message played again over the viewscreen. Kirk read the haggard, gaunt, fearful face of the overman, and he saw his hunger. The tendons of Marcus’s neck were too prominent, even in the shadowed image of the video. Kirk’s own bones ached in recognition, and in the crevasses of Marcus’s face he saw his own, and Kevin’s. In the nervous, twitching glance over his shoulder, Kirk saw Laika sprinting to the treeline on the outskirts of town. He pushed his fearful recognition somewhere dark and cold in the back of his mind, until it was just Dima Marcus, dirty and alone, on the screen in front of him. His memories of Tarsus were too close to the surface, skittering over his skin after the conversation in Bones’s office, and he fought to focus on the problem at hand. 

Kindinos wasn’t Tarsus. But Dima Marcus looked like he was starving.

Ortiz paused it at the end. Kirk heard the turbolift door open behind him, and he stifled his nervous twitch as he said, “Metadata for the video?” 

“Pretty degraded, sir, but recorded within the past one hundred hours and transmitted from the heading of 106 mark 8, sir.” 

“Helmsman?” 

The helms officer tapped the console and looked back at Kirk. Kirk met his gaze as steadily as he could. The beta shift crew rarely saw situations as serious as this one--- he would not allow his fear to trigger their own. “106 mark 8 is the heading for Kindinos VI from here, sir.” 

“Have we received anything to indicate that this recording is in any way falsified or illegitimate?” 

The beta shift bridge crew paused, looking amongst themselves, and then Lieutenant Karros in the center chair said, “No, sir.” 

Kirk finally turned and looked over his shoulder, unsurprised to see admirals April and Pike waiting by the lift. April’s face was stony as Kirk said, “Helmsman, set a course for Kindinos VI at warp four, and get Scotty back up here or into Engineering as soon as you can.” 

“Yes, sir.”

“We may have had radio silence from Kindinos because something went wrong, admiral,” Kirk said, holding April’s eye contact. “I’ll send Yeoman Rand to work with you to get your schedule fixed as close to correct as possible, but your reports are going to be delayed by a few days.” 

April stared at him, grinding his teeth, before saying, “Understood, captain.” But the man’s open hostility barely registered as he stepped down to the main chair. Karros stood to offer it to him, but he waved her off, forcing his motions to be casual. 

“Lieutenant Ortiz, put me on shipwide comms, please.” He waited until her signal, and then spoke. “Crew of the Enterprise, this is your captain speaking. We’ve received a distress signal, and we are answering its call. Officers Uhura, Giotto, Spock, McCoy, and Rand, report to the ready room. Lieutenant Scott, report to bridge. All others, be prepared for new orders. We’ll arrive in the Kindinos system in---” He turned to look at the helmsman, who mouthed ‘ten hours’--- “ten hours, at which point I will have more details to share. Kirk out.” 

“Lieutenant Karros, keep the conn until the end of your shift,” Kirk said, and she nodded resolutely. “Let me know if we receive any more signals from anything in that direction.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and the beta bridge crew around her nodded resolutely. Kirk strode back towards the turbolift. As he passed the comms console, he said, “Ortiz, could you please---?” He cut himself off as she handed him a data chip. 

“The video data, sir?” He took it from her and offered her an approving head nod. 

“Well done, lieutenant, that’s exactly right.” She looked down to hide her smile at the praise, and he pocketed the data chip. Spock followed him to the turbolift. 

“Admirals, if you would like to attend this briefing, please feel free to do so.” Pike followed Kirk and Spock into the turbolift, and April stepped in afterwards. The admirals stood in front of Kirk and Spock, all four facing the doors, and the only person who noticed that Spock gently wrapped his hand around Kirk’s wrist and squeezed was Kirk. He glanced at Spock, who met his eyes, and the contact helped center him back into himself, just a little bit. 

When they entered the conference room, Kirk’s officers were already waiting. Kirk looked over his assembled department heads, his hand-picked and trusted crew, and was grateful to see them. He took his place at the head of the table, Spock at his right hand, and slid the data chip into the room’s computer. 

“We received this message just moments ago,” he said, and hit play. He forced himself to watch as Marcus’s message rang through the room, and he let it play twice before shutting it off and turning back to his crew. Pike had rolled his chair up to the table, sitting beside Uhura, and April sat at the far end, opposite Kirk. His dark eyes were inscrutable. 

“Uhura, here,” Kirk said, and slid the data chip to her. She scooped it neatly off the table. “Beta bridge crew said they didn’t see anything funny about the message, but I’d like you to triple-check their work, just in case. Anything you can tell me about the location of the recording, any of the ambient sounds, especially those explosions, or Marcus himself would be great. We don’t know if the problem is conflict or natural disaster, and I’d like to have that information before we go planetside.” 

“Yes, sir,” she said, and something in her eyes was already going far away, as if she were listening to the message from Marcus in her head again. He turned next to the good doctor, who was watching him too carefully.

“Bones, I’d like ready kits for as many nurses as you think you can stand to send down, one we know what we’re walking into. If it’s a natural disaster, that’s one thing, but if we’re heading into a war zone, we’ll send security first and then triage.” Bones nodded, already tapping on his padd to send instructions down to Sickbay.

“Giotto, we’ll need teams, but I’m not sure how many---” 

“We’ll be able to field at least ten teams of four for a conflict zone, or we could do twenty of two if we’re just looking for survivors.”

“That’s great, Sal, that sounds right to me. Let’s plan for the worst, just in case, and we can split up on the ground if it turns out that way.” Kirk’s mind flicked through the possibilities based on what he knew about Kindinos and dilithium mines, and ran through the consequences of the most likely scenarios. He was hitting an obstacle, though: Kindinos wasn’t in Federation space, and he had very little knowledge to fall back on.

“Mr. Spock. Any information on this planet, the mine, cultural rifts that could cause conflict, any history of physical instability where the mine was built, or any evidence of foul play would be great. I doubt we’ll be able to get any clear information from the residents once we get there, not at first, and I’d like to be prepared for anything.” Spock inclined his head, calm and collected, and even just seeing him sitting at his right hand recentered Kirk further. Kindinos wasn’t Tarsus, and they were going to be ready to help.

Kirk turned to the last officer at his table. “Yeoman Rand, taking this mission is going to severely disrupt our current schedule. I’d like you to work with Admiral April to reprioritize our next round of orders. It’s unclear how long we’ll be in orbit around Kindinos at the moment, so as much leeway as you can provide would be helpful.” 

“Yes, sir,” she said, and nodded to April down the table. April inclined his head in turn, but his eyes flicked back to Kirk.

“Alright,” Kirk said. “We have ten hours until we’ll get there, any other crises notwithstanding. Rand, could you send someone to make sure Scotty gets some sleep when he’s done checking everything over in Engineering? I don’t want him down there all night.” She nodded, pulling out her padd to tap out a message to one of her minions. “We’ve got a little under ten hours until we arrive, and there is almost nothing that we can do for these people in the meantime. You’ve got your orders, but get some sleep, and make sure your people get sleep. Report anything you find or learn directly to me and Spock. Dismissed.” 

His officers stood and filed out of the conference room. Their focused, professional determination imbued the air, and Kirk inhaled it like oxygen. Janice strode ahead to fall in step with April, and Pike hung back until Kirk and Spock stepped out. 

“If you’ve got any insight here, Chris, I’d love to hear it,” Kirk said. 

“Nothing useful, I’m afraid,” Chris said. “I’ve never been out that way before. But I wanted to offer--- if you need any logistics assistance, put me in. An extra brain never hurts on a lifesaving mission.”

An idea sprung to mind fully formed, and it chased away some of the ache in his bones that had started the moment he saw Marcus. “Actually, that would be great,” Kirk said, and he turned to Spock. “Has Chris seen your revision?” 

“6245-B? No.” The empathetic shift in Spock’s face was infinitesimal, but Kirk saw the second he realized what Kirk intended. He nodded minutely. 

“We’re trying something new,” Kirk said, turning back to Chris. “We took on extra unreplicated food stores in case of emergency, and it seems as though we’re going to test a hypothesis sooner rather than later. I’ll send you the inventory, and it would be great if you could think through the most efficient way to distribute it, so that we’re not relying on the replicators. From the looks of Marcus, the people on Kindinos are going to need it.” 

“You’ve got it, captain,” Chris said, and Spock pulled out his padd to send him the documents. With a ding of his padd, Chris acknowledged their receipt, and after a brief ‘goodnight’ he followed the rest of the staff back towards the turbolift that would take him to his quarters. Kirk watched him depart before he turned towards the lift that would take him back to the bridge. 

Spock halted him with a hand around the wrist. His hand was warm. “Your own orders were to rest, sir,” he said. 

“I just wanted to---”

“And you ensured that Lieutenant Karros would maintain command for another four hours.” 

“I was just going to see if they needed anything,” Kirk said. He looked up, meeting Spock’s eyes, and he knew Spock saw him, and understood. 

“Admirable, captain, but unnecessary.” Spock paused. “And you have not yet eaten dinner.” 

As if on cue, Kirk’s stomach rumbled, and though Spock did not look down at the source of the noise he did allow himself a slight eyebrow raise. 

“I can’t sit and do nothing, after seeing that message,” he said, and pulled his wrist from Spock’s grip to take his hand instead. 

“Preparing is not ‘doing nothing.’ You and the rest of the crew will be of more use to the miners if you are fed and rested,” Spock said, and he allowed Kirk to entangle their fingers as he directed them both towards his designated turbolift. 

“And yourself, Mr. Spock?” 

“Vulcans require less sleep and sustenance than humans, captain,” Spock said.

“Does that mean you don’t want to eat dinner with me, then?” The quip rolled off his tongue. Each step with Spock’s hand in his took him further from the shock that had frozen him on the bridge.

Spock paused, affronted, and Kirk laughed. 

“That is not what I said,” he said stiffly, and followed Kirk into the turbolift.

“Alright, then,” Kirk said, and grinned as he pulled Spock towards him. “Officer’s quarters,” he said to the lift as the doors slid shut, and then he towed Spock all the way to him until they were nose to nose. Spock inhaled as Kirk tilted his head up to kiss him, and by the time the lift doors opened again they were both breathless.

☆☆☆

They had only left the quarters a little over twelve hours previously, and yet returning to it with Spock, knowing that he would stay the night, cast the entire suite in a new light. Spock’s robes hanging in his closet, Spock’s crinoid fluttering among his books, Spock’s boots next to his next to the door--- every detail of Spock’s existence in the space that he had inhabited alone for years soothed the ragged edges of his mind. Spock insinuated himself on the couch, pulling every available padd towards himself to research, as Kirk replicated dinner for them--- plomeek soup for Spock, a turkey sandwich for himself. He crossed to join Spock with their food, setting it on the coffee table in front of them, and they sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch, reading through the ship computer’s resources on Kindinos VI. The file was astonishingly sparse for a planet that supplied one of the Federation’s most valuable resources. 

“There’s effectively nothing here,” Kirk said, as they got to the bottom of the document. “That’s all?” Spock frowned and scrolled back to the top.

“It seems so, captain,” Spock said, and tapped irritatedly at the search bar. Kirk watched as he tried various other options--- information on the system, the mining company, Dima Marcus himself--- but nothing further came up. “Not even a geological survey,” he said. 

“It might be proprietary to the mining company, depending on who owns the planet. It’s not technically in Federation space.” 

Spock hummed in acknowledgement. “We will need to exercise caution, Jim.”

“I always exercise caution.” 

Spock’s eyes cut to him, but he didn’t refute the comment. “Depending on the source of the unrest, a Federation starship may not be a welcome visitor.”

“How do you mean?” 

Spock leaned back against the couch, eyes thoughtful, and crossed his legs. His bony knee pressed into Kirk’s thigh. “The planet was uninhabited before the dilithium was discovered. The only people who live there now are those who are employed by the mine. I assume you are familiar with the great union riots of the 2030s on Earth.”

“I am,” Kirk said, suddenly aware of where Spock was going and uneasy with it. 

“If the conflict is between classes of employees, or perhaps miners and management, the arrival of a consumer of their product may be viewed as harmful to their business.” 

Kirk frowned. “You’re right,” he said. “So we’ll come in gentle. We won’t mention the distress call until we get someone to talk to and hear a little more about what’s going on.” 

“A reasonable approach, captain,” Spock said, and Kirk leaned back against the couch to brush their shoulders together. 

“We were already headed that way for a wellness check,” he said. “We’ll keep that story, say we got concerned when comms broke down and just wanted to see how they were doing. No mention of any problems until we get a hold of someone on the ground.” 

“I think that will be best, captain.” Spock swapped the padd in his hand for one of the others on the coffee table, and skimmed through the document; over his shoulder, Kirk could see the stark, clinical titles from his regulation revision. “Tasking Admiral Pike with implementing the revision was logical.” 

“If you let him hear you call him admiral again, I think he might actually run you down. That chair can get some real speed, you know.” 

“I will endeavor to protect my knees, captain,” Spock said, and Kirk coughed out a surprised laugh. Spock glanced at him as he leaned back against the couch, and turned back to his padd as he said, “Marcus’s appearance distressed you.” 

The disagreement leapt to Kirk’s lips. He bit it back. He could be honest. Spock had earned that, deserved that, from him. 

“We got the message today, but it could be three days old,” he said. “A lot can happen in three days.” Spock did not look at him, but his knee pressed insistently against Kirk’s leg, and Kirk leaned against him. “And if that’s what the overman looked like three days ago, four days once we arrive, what shape is everyone else in?” They sat in silence for a moment before Kirk forced himself to put voice to the fear that howled from the back of his mind. 

“Are there children on Kindinos?”

“It is impossible to be certain,” Spock said quietly. “But I have found no evidence that there is anyone but the employees of the mining company on the planet.” Kirk chewed the inside of his lip. “We will be prepared to act immediately upon arrival, captain. We acquired sufficient foodstuff and have enough staff to respond as soon as we ascertain the needs of the people on the planet.”

Kirk turned over Spock’s words in his mind, pressing their shoulders together, drawing comfort from his proximity and his logical consideration of Kirk’s fears. He watched over Spock’s shoulder as Spock re-read the preliminary report on Kindinos, committing the scant information to memory. 

“I do not believe there is any other information that I can acquire on the planet at this time,” Spock eventually said, and Kirk sat up and arched, stretching his back. He was beginning to feel how Spock had thrown him through the ache in his muscles, and remembered the tingle of Spock dragging his hands across his skin. He stood and crossed the room, swinging his arms to stretch his shoulders, before turning and sitting on the edge of his desk. He considered Spock as his eyes lifted to meet Kirk’s, pulling slowly away from the padd in his hands.

“A shower, I think, before bed,” Kirk said. “We both smell like the gymnasium.” His stomach twinged pleasantly as he recalled the way Spock had moved under his hands that morning and against him in the turbolift later, and he admired the way Spock looked, lounged on their couch with his long legs crossed in front of him. He felt again that strange magnetism that pulled his hands to Spock, even at this distance; he felt that irrepressible need to be close to him, to feel his skin against his. But he no longer felt the vague discomfort of guilt at the idea; his attraction had been joyfully reciprocated.

“If you don’t want to, or if it’s too soon, I understand,” Kirk said. He held Spock’s gaze. “But if you did want to, you could join me.” 

Spock straightened, his padd coming to rest flat against his thighs. Color rose faintly on his cheeks, and his eyes dropped to the floor before he raised them again.

“I would like that,” he said, his voice quiet. Kirk smiled and crossed the room back to him as pleasure at the idea sparked to life inside him. He offered his hand. With only a second’s hesitation, Spock took it, and Kirk pulled him up off the couch and to the bathroom door. Spock followed him in as Kirk crossed directly to Scotty’s half of the bathroom and locked the other door.

☆☆☆

Spock stood on the tile of the bathroom floor in his stockinged feet, arms crossed in front of himself, face impassive.

“Hey,” Kirk said, and put both hands on Spock’s shoulders, the fabric of his science shirt smooth under his hands. “I was serious. We don’t have to.” 

Kirk felt Spock’s shoulders rise as he inhaled through his nose, and he looked down between them as he said again, “I would like to.” But he paused, and even without telepathy Kirk could feel his apprehension vibrating beneath his skin. 

“You haven’t done this before,” Kirk said. 

“I have not,” Spock confirmed. “Though your use of ‘this’ is alarmingly vague.” Kirk grinned and shook him gently by the shoulders.

“You’re sure, though?” Kirk asked. “Because we can wait.”

“I am sure,” Spock said, and his voice was steadier. He met Kirk’s eyes again, his eyes scorching, and uncrossed his arms, reaching one hand to Kirk’s waist. Kirk slid his hands down from Spock’s shoulders, over his ribs, down to his hips, and slipped one finger under the hem of his shirt. 

“May I?” Kirk asked, voice dropping low, and Spock nodded. He slid both hands under Spock’s tunic and pulled it over his head. Spock lifted his arms, his undershirt riding up with the motion to reveal the taut skin of his stomach, the shirt’s journey over his neat hair disturbing its perfect alignment. Kirk balled up the shirt and tossed it in the recycler before turning back to Spock to claim his undershirt and trousers. But Spock reached for him first. Watching his own hands as if committing the movement to memory, Spock pulled his command golds off, skimming his hands over Kirk’s sides as he lifted, and placed the shirt in the recycler with his own. Kirk stepped closer and slid both hands under Spock’s undershirt, pressing them flat against the warmth of Spock’s back. Spock closed his eyes and nodded, and Kirk pulled the undershirt off of him. 

He had seen Spock shirtless a hundred times before, in locker rooms, on away missions, in Sickbay, but never like this. He had never seen Spock with his clothes removed by Kirk’s own hands; his chest hair dark against his pale skin, the leanness of his frame belying his strength. Unable to stop himself, Kirk pressed one hand against his stomach, and felt Spock’s heart beneath his palm.

“Still okay?” 

Spock nodded, and his eyes darkened as he pulled Kirk’s undershirt off. He skimmed a hand along the line of his shoulder, and the soft touch gave him goosebumps. Spock ran one long finger along the bumps on his arm. 

“Are you cold, Jim?” 

Kirk laughed. “No,” he said, and hooked two fingers into the waistband of Spock’s trousers. He pulled, and Spock stepped towards him, bringing them within inches of each other. He was acutely aware of the uneven rise and fall of Spock’s chest, of the slight tremor in his own hands. Spock looked down, replacing the touch of one finger against his goosebumps with his whole hand, and his soft breath against Kirk’s ear made him shiver. 

“Are you certain?” 

“It’s not from the cold, Spock,” Kirk said, skin tingling under Spock’s hands, and he unbuttoned Spock’s trousers. His knuckles brushed the line of hair that trailed into Spock’s pants. Spock stepped out of them as Kirk pulled them down, placing one hand against the wall for balance. Kirk noted the spread of his fingers and flushed as his mind supplied an image of what Spock’s hands might look like, both pressed against the wall of the shower. Down, boy, he told himself. He was going to let Spock set the pace for whatever they did. But Spock stood before him in his boxers and socks, all long, lean lines and chest hair, and some of the nervous tension had left his gestures when he reached for the button of Kirk’s pants. 

“May I?” Spock asked, his mouth next to Kirk’s ear, and when Kirk nodded, his nimble fingers made quick work of the fastenings. Kirk stepped out of his pants and tossed both pairs into the recycler. Spock reached for him, running his hand down Kirk’s arm, eyes following a similar path down the line of his throat and over his chest, lingering at his shorts. Spock exhaled sharply before bringing his hands to the waistband of his own shorts. He met Kirk’s eyes and raised one eyebrow, and Kirk’s mouth dried up as Spock removed the last of his clothing and stood bare before him. Spock, naked, was incredible to behold: every line of him elegant like a dancer, the thin trail of hair down his chest and stomach leading to his half-hard cock, flushed green and double-ridged.

“You’re beautiful,” Kirk said, and watched in fascination as a flush crept down Spock’s neck and across his chest. With Spock’s eyes glued to his hands, he slowly pulled his own shorts down and tossed them and his socks into the recycler. He stood before Spock’s gaze as it swept from his face, down over his torso, to his exposed cock and thighs, and back to his face.

“Jim,” Spock said, hoarse, and reached for him. His hand slid up Kirk’s shoulder, over and behind his neck, and pulled him in as Kirk slid his arms around his back. Their bodies collided as their lips met, and Spock brought both hands up to frame his face. Spock’s chest hair scraped his torso, his cock pressing against Kirk’s hipbone, and he shuddered as Kirk ran his hands from his shoulder blades to the curve of his ass, breathing hard against his mouth. Kirk pulled back to see his face, to gauge if he needed to slow down, but Spock chased him across the distance, eyes dark and intense, to kiss him again. Kirk sighed into Spock’s mouth at the brush of his tongue against his, his hands roaming over his back, and Spock pushed them backwards to press Kirk against the countertop. Kirk’s whole body sang at the pressure of Spock against him, his fingertips digging dimples into his skin. He could feel Spock hardening against him, the twitch of his hips as Kirk shifted, and he pulled one hand between them to press Spock backwards. 

“Shower,” he said, and Spock nodded. Kirk crossed to the shower, setting the water to something he thought would be comfortable for both of them and testing it with his hand. Spock followed behind him. Kirk leaned back until his shoulders pressed against Spock’s chest, and rested his head back against Spock’s shoulder.

“You can touch me,” he said quietly. “However you’re comfortable.” Spock hummed his assent, the sound reverberating in his chest. He wrapped his arms around Kirk from behind, clasping his hands at his navel and dropping his head to press a kiss to the meat of Kirk’s shoulder. He dragged his lips from that point of contact, up his neck, to his ear, where he kissed the rounded top. Kirk shivered at his breath against the shell of his ear.

“God, Spock,” he whispered, and ran his hand along his forearm. He felt Spock’s minute tremble under the touch of his hand, felt his chest expand with a jagged breath against his back. He pulled away to step under the warm stream of water, letting it pour over his head for a second, before he turned back. Spock stared at him as he slicked his wet hair back. His hands hung open, empty, next to him, and he saw one twitch towards him. Spock’s eyes were wide and dark, drinking him in, and Kirk grinned broadly at him. Holding Spock’s gaze, he ran his tongue against his lower lip. 

Spock surged towards him, meeting him under the water, wrapping both arms around him before pressing them both backwards. Kirk hissed into Spock’s mouth as his back hit the cold tile of the shower wall, arching towards him, wrapping both arms around his shoulders. Spock ground his hips against him, and the moan that escaped from somewhere deep in his chest set Kirk’s blood on fire. He opened his eyes and ran one hand over Spock, dragging down and catching one nipple with his thumb. Spock shuddered. Water dripped down his nose, and his mouth was half-open as his eyes fluttered shut; he was so beautiful that Kirk’s teeth ached with it. For a moment his head spun as he recognized, as if from outside of his own body, that he was in his shower, grinding his hard-on against his first officer-turned-husband’s. Minutes ago they had been in his quarters, talking about a mission, planning for the away team strategy over dinner, and now they were here, gasping into each other’s mouths. If this was marriage, he thought, then he was looking forward to many more years of it. 

He slid his hand down further, and Spock opened his eyes. “Is this alright?” 

Spock nodded, pressing their foreheads together, and Kirk ran his fingers up Spock’s thigh before slowly wrapping his hand around his cock. Kirk stared in wonder at the microexpressions that flickered across Spock’s face at the contact, as his eyes rolled back even as they slid shut, as his hand spasmed against Kirk’s back where it still held him. He started gently, rolling his wrist as he stroked loosely, and Spock’s hips twitched. His breathing was uneven, shallow and rapid, and when Kirk leaned forward to capture his mouth again Spock groaned into him. He swallowed the noise, pulling Spock’s lip between his teeth, sucking on his tongue, and the rhythm of his kisses grew more unsteady with every pass of his hand.

He twisted his hand slowly and Spock pulled one hand from behind Kirk’s back to plant it unsteadily against the wall of the shower. Kirk glanced at it in awe, at the water dripping down to his angular wrist from long fingers, splayed against the tile. He closed his hand over both ridges and swiped his thumb over the head, and he felt the sticky slide of precome on his hand as Spock dropped his head to Kirk’s shoulder. Kirk turned his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to Spock’s neck, running his unoccupied hand up to tease at his nipples, and Spock shuddered fully against him. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed. “I can’t believe--- I wasn’t sure---” He shut his mouth and turned his head, pressing a kiss to Spock’s wrist to prevent himself from saying anything unforgivably vapid, and increased the speed of his hand. Spock’s hips rocked in time with his movement, his breath coming harshly, and when he increased the pressure Spock keened quietly and pressed his mouth down against the meat of Kirk’s shoulder. He felt Spock begin to tremble, heard the voiceless whine catch in the back of his throat, and he continued the pace of his hand, bringing the other up to cradle the back of Spock’s head. 

“Jim,” Spock said, wrecked and ragged, and Kirk kissed the side of his head. “I---” His trembling intensified, long thighs tensing; his lungs heaved like bellows, and the hand planted against the wall flexed unconsciously. 

“Good,” Kirk murmured. “I want you to.” It was not lost on him that he was the first person to have ever seen Spock like this, held him and felt him like this, and he seared it in his memory: the deep timbre of his groan, the hitch in his breathing, the weight of his head on his shoulder, the way the hand that he still pressed against the small of Kirk’s back pulled him ever closer. 

Spock came with Kirk’s hand wrapped around him, his face pressed into the crook of Kirk’s neck, pulsing up over Kirk’s fist and their stomachs. Kirk, more aroused than he had ever been in his entire life and so desperately in love that he thought his lungs might burst with it, stroked him through it and took more of his weight as Spock relaxed against him. For a moment Spock leaned into him, mouth pressed into his shoulder, Kirk’s shoulders pressed against the wall of the shower, and he ran his hands up and down Spock’s back, brushing from the crown of his head to the base of his spine. Spock’s breathing slowed, and he dropped his hand from the wall as he lifted his head to meet Kirk’s eyes.

“Hey, you,” Kirk said. 

“Hello,” Spock said, and he tentatively brushed a lock of wet hair from Kirk’s forehead, fingertips skimming over his eyebrow. Kirk put his palm flat against Spock’s sternum, feeling the warmth of him, his once-again steady breathing, and pushed him further under the water. He stepped backwards, watching Kirk with those warm eyes, and Kirk pulled his washcloth from the rack and dispensed soap onto it. He lathered it up and met Spock under the water. Spock was pliant as he ran the washcloth over his shoulders, down his arms, and he allowed Kirk to manipulate him to get under his arms, running the cloth over his palms and down his chest. 

“I am capable of cleansing myself,” Spock said, but there was no real rebuke in it. 

“I know,” Kirk said. “But I want to do it for you.” He ran the cloth gently over his thighs, swiping between his legs, before pushing on one shoulder. Spock turned, allowing him unfettered access to his back. 

Kirk swept the washcloth over the broad expanse of his fine-boned shoulders and said, “Will you indulge my curiosity for a moment?” 

“Yes,” Spock said, and turned his head slightly to listen. Kirk ran the washcloth down his spine, trailing his other hand through the bubbles left behind.

“When did you know?”

Spock’s silence was contemplative, and Kirk waited. He ran the washcloth over Spock’s ribs and down his hips until it was clear that it was only an excuse to touch him, and even then continued. 

“There is no ambiguity in relationships among my people,” Spock said. “Either there is already a bond, such as that between parents and child, or bondmates, and there is no question of what the relationship is; or there is no bond. Our telepathy, our culture, leaves very little room for the question of ‘what if.’” Kirk basked in his deep voice bouncing off the tiles, reverberating through the small space. “When we first met, I was betrothed. Though there was no affection between myself and T’Pring, I did not think that status would change. This was a miscalculation on my part, but one I find that I am now grateful for.” 

Spock paused, and Kirk stayed where he was behind him, hands skimming up and down Spock’s arms. “You are my friend,” Spock said. “But I had never before known ambiguity in a relationship. I did not understand how the line between friendship and more may be blurred, and therefore did not recognize it when it happened. It was not until I was threatened with a future that did not include you that I realized that my sentiment had exceeded its original parameters.”

“Wait,” Kirk said, hands pausing in their steady rhythm at Spock’s wrists. “So then you already knew by the time I found out about the offer. You’ve wanted this… since the beginning?” 

“That is correct.” Kirk squeezed Spock’s wrists and pressed his forehead to the back of Spock’s neck. 

“I though…” Kirk’s heart felt like it was expanding in his chest as he reevaluated, day by day, the circuitous path that had taken them from his nervous proposal in Spock’s old quarters to this moment. “I thought you just didn’t want to leave the Enterprise.” Spock hummed, and Kirk felt it vibrate through him, where he was pressed to him.

“You were the one who assumed the Enterprise as the referent point,” Spock said, and Kirk could almost feel his amusement. “I simply did not correct you.” Kirk lifted his head and continued running his hands over Spock’s arms, feeling the strong lines of his muscle, the upright set of his shoulders.

“And you agreed to a fake marriage anyway? Even before knowing how this would go, even before I had caught up?” Kirk laughed softly, shaking his head. “Humans would call that being a glutton for punishment.” 

“It is no punishment to be where I want to be, captain,” Spock said, and Kirk again pressed his head against his. “But after meditation and---” he cleared his throat, and Kirk looked up to see a faint flush of color on his cheeks--- “an illuminating series of conversations with Nyota, I believe I know when this… ambiguity began.” 

“Will you tell me?” Kirk asked, and Spock turned in his arms. He took the washcloth from Kirk’s hand, applied more soap, and rubbed it to a lather. 

“Babel,” Spock said, and slid the soapy washcloth over Kirk’s shoulders. Kirk watched him; watched the water drip over his eyebrows and cheekbones, down the line of his throat, over the steady movements of his hands. 

“Even though I lied to you?” 

“By saving my father from my decision, you preserved not only his life, but the wellbeing of my mother through her bondmate and any future possibility for me of repairing my familial bonds.” Spock ran the washcloth carefully over Kirk’s chest and stomach, wiping away the evidence of his orgasm, before turning Kirk around to wash his back. He said quietly, “That was the first time that I saw logic bow to kindness. And the first time that such a kindness had been extended to me.” 

The rough fabric of the washcloth vanished, replaced by Spock’s hands, sliding over Kirk’s shoulders and down his arms. He stepped closer behind him, his chest against his back, his cheekbone pressed to Kirk’s temple. “When did you become aware?”

“I think it had been building for a while,” Kirk said, and let Spock take more of his weight against his chest as they stood beneath the water. “When April called me and told me about your promotion, I panicked. I wasn’t ready for you to leave. But it wasn’t until the night that I kissed you for the first time that I realized why I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Spock unclasped his hands, pressing them to Kirk’s stomach, pulling him closer. Kirk turned his head, pressing his forehead against Spock’s cheek. “But I think you knew that.” 

“Any sense of ambiguity disappeared the night of our wedding,” Spock said, and Kirk could feel his voice through his chest, against his back. “When I took your hands.” 

“Ah,” Kirk said, smiling, and lifted his hand to put it on the back of Spock’s head. “You mean I wasn’t successful in hiding my feelings from you that night?” 

“You are many things, captain, but subtle is not usually one of them. What I felt from you, and what I felt in response…” Spock paused, pressed to him. “It was unambiguous.” They stood together under the shower for another minute, breathing in time with each other, before Spock inhaled deeply and slid his hand down through the hair on his stomach, towards his thighs.

“Spock,” Kirk whispered, as his body responded to the gentle touch. “You don’t have to.” 

“I know,” Spock said, voice low in his ear. “But I desire to do it for you.” He wrapped one arm around Kirk, holding him back against his chest, and curled those long, graceful fingers around him in one unselfconscious move. He dropped his head back onto Spock’s shoulder as the water ran down his chest, Spock’s hands burning brands into his skin, his mouth pressing kisses into his neck, and the way Spock touched him made him feel brand new. 

Had any of his previous lovers been so attuned to every twitch and sigh? Had he ever been so comfortable with someone, allowing them to care for him, without feeling the need to remove the center of attention from himself? He couldn’t remember the last time that he had allowed someone to focus entirely on him, insist on his pleasure, single-mindedly pursue it with that inhuman concentration--- but now he did. Spock chased his moans out of his mouth, turning him around to hold him against the wall and kiss him, hand moving ceaselessly on him, and Kirk held onto his shoulders and pressed his head against his neck and let Spock’s insistent rhythm push all other thoughts but him, him, him, yes, yes, yes out of his head.

☆☆☆

Dried and dressed, Kirk and Spock sat side-by-side in the bed, reading over the updates that Uhura and Giotto had sent. The security teams were ready, briefed on what little they knew about the mission, and would be ready to beam down with them as soon as they knew what was going on. Uhura had sent an audiological report that made Kirk uneasy: the audio in the recording was degraded, fuzzy after its travel through space, but it was her professional opinion that the video was legitimate and that the explosions in the background were not from military munitions but industrial machinery. 

He didn’t know if that was better or worse.

“There could be some sort of geological disturbance,” Spock said, as Kirk leaned against him and scanned through Uhura’s report again. 

“Or the miners could be weaponizing the machinery if they are fighting the management,” Kirk said, and Spock inclined his head in agreement. “I think we ought to beam down first,” he continued. “Before sending down the security teams. See if we can’t find someone to talk to, who might be able to give us more information. I don’t want to add more weapons into a volatile situation.” 

Spock exhaled quietly through his nose. Kirk turned to him. “You don’t like my plan?” 

“Your plan is sound,” Spock allowed. He looked at Kirk, warm dark eyes flicking between his own and the padd. “Is there any possibility of convincing you to remain aboard the ship until the situation on the ground has been ascertained?”

“Of course not,” Kirk said, narrowing his eyes. “You know I won’t order my crew into anything that I won’t go into myself.” Spock looked back to the padd in his lap before twining his fingers through Kirk’s. 

“I know, captain,” Spock said. He was silent for a moment before he said, “I am going with you.” Kirk took one more glance over the reports from his team before he closed the padd and set it aside, leaning over to rest his head on Spock’s shoulder. 

“I rely on it,” he said quietly. “On you coming with me.” So smoothly and gracefully he didn’t realize at first what he was doing, Spock slid them both down the bed until they were horizontal, laying next to each other. 

“I must admit, illogical though it is, I do have a preference among the revelations from the past week.” 

“A daring admission, Mr. Spock. Please, do tell.” 

“The rule that the security team follows,” Spock said, the chocolate brown of his eyes warm in the light of their quarters. “That on away missions, they can trust that I will be where you are.” Beneath the comforter, Kirk lifted Spock’s arm to slide himself beneath it and lay his head on his shoulder. Such boldness, he thought, even as Spock adjusted to make room for him. 

“That might be my favorite, too,” Kirk said. “That, or the nurses’ log.” 

Spock hummed in consideration. “It was their log that first showed me that you treated me in the same manner that I treated you.” 

Kirk lifted his head. “What do you mean?” 

“After I became aware of my own affection, I assumed that you would not reciprocate. I had no evidence to the contrary, and I did not desire to assign meaning to the emotions transferred through your touch without more context.” Spock turned to meet his eyes. “I was unaware of how much time you spent in Sickbay when you were not required to be there.” Kirk lay back down and ordered the lights off.

“If you like, Mr. Spock, I’ll start waking you when you’re in Medbay and I come to see you,” Kirk teased. “So you can know when your captain is worrying about you.” 

“A considerate gesture,” Spock said. “Might I suggest, however, spending less time in Medbay and more time practicing self-preservation?”

“Hey,” Kirk complained, curling closer to Spock’s warmth, thrilling at the way his hand slipped beneath his sleep shirt to press possessively against his hip. “I thought we were talking about you.” 

“I believe we could ask Dr. McCoy to analyze who spends more time on a biobed,” Spock said. “If I am remembering correctly, you have spent at least 11.8% more time, comparatively---” His sentence ended rather abruptly as Kirk stretched up to kiss him instead, and he rolled towards Kirk immediately to place a hand against his face and kiss him in return. 

As they broke apart and settled down to sleep, Kirk thought that he had just discovered a way to increase the number of future disagreements that he won quite considerably. 

☆☆☆

Jimmy was back in the treehouse on Tarsus, during one of the early days. But he looked around at his sleeping kids, and there was one extra body laying on the wooden floor. He counted them again: Kevin and Mira and Ellie, then Tommy and Laika and himself. And then the last body, laying with his back to Jimmy, shivering in the light wind. Jimmy crawled over to him, quietly so as to not disturb the littles, and shook the stranger’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he said. “Who are you?” 

Dima Marcus rolled over, face shrunken and skeletal with hunger, and whispered, “Help me.” 

Kirk woke to the darkness of his own room, and to Spock’s hand sliding across the bed to find him. 

“Are you distressed, Jim?” 

“It was just a nightmare,” Kirk said, and he fought his instinct to squirm out from under that telepathic hand. “I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.” 

“Will you be returning to sleep?” 

Kirk hesitated, and in the silence Spock read his answer. He heard Spock roll over to face him as he retracted his hand back to his side of the bed. 

“Do you wish to discuss it?” 

His immediate answer was no. His second answer was absolutely not. But his third answer was a little less defensive, a little more willing to share the burden. Three days ago he would have refused to open up. But tonight, in the dark, after Spock had proven over and over again that he was not going to leave, maybe he could bear a little vulnerability. 

“It’s all too close to the surface,” he said. “I need more time. Two weeks ago, I don’t think Marcus would have rattled me at all. Today?” He scoffed a little. “After the past seventy-two hours? Everything reminds me of the colony.” 

“What would you do, given more time?” 

“I don’t know,” he said, rolling to lay flat on his back, staring at his familiar ceiling, cast in the light of his alarm clock. “Sort out this one problem, and then move onto other missions. Get my head on right again.”

“I believe your head is attached to your body correctly, captain,” Spock said solemnly, and Kirk huffed out a laugh before sliding his hand across the bed. Spock met it with his own, entwining their fingers gently. 

“I spent years locking all this away so that it wouldn’t interfere with anything else,” Kirk eventually said. “I’m still glad to know the truth, or be closer to it. Or something. But I can’t help but feel that I would be better prepared for tomorrow if I hadn’t…” What? Unlocked everything that he had kept hidden away? Opened Pandora’s box of Starfleet conspiracies? 

“In the years since I have come to know you, I have never feared that you would allow your emotions to disrupt your command. This has not changed.” Spock’s thumb traced a gentle line over the back of his hand, and Kirk lay on his back and breathed. “We will assist the people on Kindinos VI however we are able, and afterwards we will continue to investigate what you witnessed. But I do not think that your abilities have been diminished because you are now acknowledging an unresolved issue.” 

Kirk squeezed his hand. “I’m worried about what all this will do to Kevin, too. To the other survivors.”

“I do not doubt that it will be a painful process. But if I may be forthright, captain, I believe a future in which the perpetrators are brought to justice would be preferable to a future in which the burden of secrecy remains with you.” 

They lay in silence. Kirk listened to the steady rhythm of Spock’s breathing, and matched his own to it, and it helped to relieve the tension that had clenched his shoulders in the aftermath of his dream.

“I would still like to cross-reference Lieutenant Riley’s medical records with your own,” Spock said. “But I have also been thinking about other sources of clandestine information.” 

“Oh?” 

“When I was… involved, in some of Michael’s efforts, I became aware of Admiral April’s role as a liaison between Section 31 and the rest of Starfleet during the conflict. He made his distaste for the organization clear, but he may have useful information to offer from that experience.” 

“April?” Kirk asked, the disbelief apparent in his voice, even to him. “That’s hard to imagine. If there were a pictographic representation of ‘hardass’ or ‘by the book’ in the dictionary, it would just be a picture of his face.” He sighed. “We’ll have enough quality time with him over the next two weeks, though. It’s a good idea.”

“We can request that he provide us with additional information about Section 31 as a wedding gift,” Spock said, and Kirk snorted in surprise laughter. He rolled over, away from Spock, but pulled him towards him by their connected hands. Spock obligingly draped himself over Kirk, burying his face in the back of his neck.

“Why the hell did Elise go to such lengths to keep me quiet, when you’ve been walking around with all these dangerous details for years?” Spock’s breath gusted softly against the fine hairs at the nape of Kirk’s neck, and he shivered lightly. 

“I estimate that they assumed a betrothed Vulcan on a ship of humans would never build such a level of rapport as to share those details,” Spock said, and Kirk grinned in the darkness. 

“A grave miscalculation,” Kirk said, and Spock’s arm tightened over his chest. 

“Indeed.”

☆☆☆

Kirk was awakened the next morning, not by the harsh trilling of his alarm clock, but by a warm hand sweeping softly down the side of his face. He blinked awake. Spock sat on the edge of the bed, in uniform, leaning over him. 

“Hello, Jim,” he said, and Kirk smiled.

“Hey, you,” he said. “Up early?” 

“I meditated,” Spock said, and leaned back to allow Kirk to sit up and stretch, sliding out of bed around him and pressing a kiss to the shoulder of Spock’s shirt as he passed. 

“Needed a respite from me and all my illogical human touching?” 

Spock, turning to watch him cross to the closet and pull out his uniform, said, “Never.” Kirk grinned with no slight satisfaction as Spock, face carefully impassive but eyes hawkish, watched him strip out of his pajamas and step into his uniform. He finished dressing and came to stand in front of Spock, where he still sat on the edge of the bed. He stepped into Spock’s space, between his legs, and Spock let him push his knees apart. Kirk tilted his face up with two fingers, leaning down to him, and said huskily, “Big day ahead.” 

Kirk could see the carefully restrained eye roll that he almost certainly deserved for the figure of speech, but Spock let him kiss him anyway, so he thought he might have been forgiven.

Kirk and Spock stepped out of their quarters into a tense and subdued atmosphere, and Kirk’s heart sank. The safe comfort of their room melted away as the crisis on Kindinos VI took center-stage in his mind, and he pushed everything but the people they might find, and the help they might need, to the backburner. They had a brief breakfast, with an extra cup of coffee, and then he strode onto the bridge with Spock a half-step behind to relieve the delta shift.

“Approaching hailing distance in thirty minutes, sir,” the delta helmsman said, as Sulu slid into his seat. 

“Noted, thank you, helmsman,” Kirk said. The next thirty minutes passed in a blur of details: Giotto’s list of security teams, Uhura’s follow-up report on the details of Marcus’s accent, Spock’s more and more elaborate search queries returning nothing useful on Kindinos or the mining company.

Finally, Uhura said from behind him, “Hailing range of Kindinos VI, sir.” Kindinos was a drab little planet in the viewscreen; brown and red and gray, with no visible bodies of water or splashes of green to indicate plant life. According to the sparse report he had read the night before, Kindinos had a Class M atmosphere--- barely. It looked nothing like Tarsus, and yet there was an ache in his stomach that he couldn’t settle. 

“Hail on all frequencies, Lieutenant.” 

“Hailing, captain.” Kirk turned to watch her as she pressed her hand to her earpiece, head tilting as she listened to whatever reached them from the beyond. Half a minute passed. Kirk watched her, her eyes flicking over the console readouts, one hand dancing lightly on the frequency tuner, before she turned back to him. 

“No response, sir.” 

“Let’s try them again.” The bridge hushed around him as Uhura spun back to her console, deft hands flying over the controls with her bright silver earpiece sparkling under the lights. Another thirty seconds passed, her shoulders creeping upwards with tension as she listened. The silence on the bridge was oppressive. She pulled the piece from her ear and turned back.

“Nothing, sir. I can’t even get acknowledgement from their receiver.” Kirk ignored the way his stomach sank and turned to his first officer. 

“What’s the population of the planet, Mr. Spock?”

“It had been uninhabited before the dilithium was discovered and the mine was built. Estimates place the population now at five thousand individuals, mostly human, all employees of Dextrum Mining Corporation.” Kirk nodded as Spock glanced over his shoulder at him, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. He stared at the little brown planet.

“Take us into orbit, Mr. Sulu,” he said. “We’re going to beam down and see if we can’t find anyone who can tell us a little bit about what’s going on.” He commed Giotto to have him meet them at the transporter with two teams. “Mr. Spock, with me. Sulu, you have the conn.” 

The turbolift door opened. April and Pike exited. Eyes flashing immediately to the planet on the viewscreen, April asked, “Were you able to raise them?”

“No, sir,” Kirk said, and did his best to ignore April’s determination to be involved in ship’s business, despite his rank and protests of other work to do. “All frequencies, twice, nothing. We’re going down with security to see if we can find anyone to talk to.”

“I will join the away team,” April said, and stared Kirk down as if daring him to argue. Kirk considered it. But even if he told April he couldn’t participate, April would just override his orders. “I’ve met Dextrum’s owner before. An unpleasant man, but if he knows anything, he might be more likely to tell a familiar face.” 

Kirk clenched his jaw. Did April miss the days when the Enterprise was his? Was he so desperate to prove that his relationship with Spock was bad for his command? But the admiral’s rank tied his hands. 

He simply said, “Thank you, Admiral. Your familiarity will prove useful.” He and Spock crossed back to the turbolift, April following them, and nodded to Sulu as he replaced Kirk in the center chair. As they passed Chris, Chris met his eyes and glanced at the padd balanced on his chair. 

“Logistics,” he said, and caught Kirk’s eye. Kirk nodded, and some of his tension lifted. Even if Kindinos was in famine, Spock’s regulation revision and Chris’s efforts would make it easier to distribute food. They would be prepared for whatever they found. Kirk would be prepared for whatever they found. 

“Admiral, would you mind staying with Sulu? I’d appreciate you on deck if it comes to that.” 

“Yes, captain,” Chris said, and navigated the hoverchair down to sit next to Sulu. Kirk, Spock, and April piled into the turbolift, and the doors closed behind them, erasing the bridge from their vision. 

“Transporter,” Kirk told the lift, and it began its descent. There were two seconds of silence before April, glancing between them, said, “You’re both going?” 

“Yes,” Kirk bit out. It was technically against regulation, and he knew it, and April knew he knew it, but he had also never been on a ship that actually followed that rule. April opened his mouth but Spock interrupted him, facing resolutely forward.

“As the highest-ranking science officer, and the only one with security and conflict certifications, it is logical for me to join away teams on potentially dangerous missions.” 

April side-eyed him. “And the captain is going because…?” 

“Kindinos VI is not in Federation space, and Dextrum Mining Corporation not a Federation organization. Captain Kirk is present as a representative of Starfleet and the Federation as a matter of diplomacy.” Spock did not say obviously out loud, but it was nearly impossible to miss through his tone, and Kirk suppressed his appreciative grin. 

April exhaled loudly through his nose, but he didn’t say anything further, and the turbolift door opened to reveal a busy transporter room. Scotty stood at the control panel, scanning his readouts, as Giotto and eight security officers waited in body armor, checking and rechecking the environmental protection suits strapped to their backs. Giotto gave him a firm nod as they entered, but he wasn’t kitted out like the others--- he would manage their movements from the ship, where he could see all the teams’ movements. 

“Admiral,” Giotto said, and shook his hand. Kirk slipped away to sidle up to Scotty at the controls, and Scotty smiled distractedly at him. 

“Supervision, sir?” The Scotsman’s voice was quiet, and he glanced at the admiral.

“Seems so. He says he knows someone down there.” 

“Aye, but it seems dangerous to send the brass into what might be a war zone,” Scotty said, leaning closer to drop his voice further. 

“I agree, but I couldn’t exactly tell him no.” Kirk looked over at April again, who talked seriously to Giotto. He didn’t give off the impression that he wanted to relive his glory days as a starship captain--- and yet here he was, joining the away mission. Kirk felt something press into his hand, and he glanced down. 

“Just in case,” Scotty said, and glanced between Kirk, Spock, and Admiral April. “It’s still untested, but in theory it should work.” In Kirk’s palm lay a heavy comms device; the prototype that Scotty had been working on the week prior, now soldered shut and seemingly operational. “Flip it open, hit the button, and we’ll try to get you out. Let’s try for just one at a time at first, though, hmm?” 

“Thanks, Scotty,” Kirk said, and clasped his shoulder gratefully. “I hope we won’t need it.” 

“I do too, sir,” Scotty said, and Kirk left him to return to Spock’s side, where the Vulcan gazed calmly over the assembled crew. He cleared his throat loudly, and the room fell silent around him. 

“We were unable to contact the miners on Kindinos VI upon our arrival,” he said to the away teams. “The last contact we had was the message for help, sent three days ago. We are beaming down to ascertain the situation, assess the need for medical aid or humanitarian assistance, and discover the cause of their silence. We don’t know the cause of any potential disaster, or what situation we may find on the ground, so take every precaution. Any questions?” 

His crew, silent and ready, shook their heads. He nodded at them, looking around to make eye contact with each of them. “Be safe. Be careful. Check in with the ship every thirty minutes.” Giotto handed him an environmental suit, and he slung it over his back as April and Spock did the same. 

The weight on his back settled him. Kirk strode onto the transporter pad, Spock a half-step behind him, and took his place on one of the plates. He settled his shoulders back, bracing himself. He did not know what they would find; whether they were walking into an active conflict, or if an earthquake or other disaster had wrought ruin on the mine. But though Marcus wore the sharp bones of starvation, Kindinos was not Tarsus. His crew was prepared. They were here to help, and they were going to be fine.

Spock claimed the plate to his right, and April stepped up to his left. Kirk mechanically and automatically ran his hands over his belt for his phaser and comm unit, feeling the experimental one tucked into his inner pocket, and then nodded to Scotty.

“Energize.” 

[whymaige]

🎇 Happy New Year 🎇

Made sure to shelter in the community cats!

2023's been very rough. Dad getting into an accident/operation, losing Uncle, getting sick, unfortunate stuff. Just braved through the pull as I grinded on commishies. Hope 2024's gonna be alright for al of us!

I did my best to finish as much comms I can to catch up, but I wasn't able to make it on some. For those I haven't messaged yet- please wait for my dm/mail! for your new ETA! Thank you for your patience !

Thank you everyone for helping us get through this year. Thank you so so much! We'll kep doing our best, and I'll keep doing my best to make my content cool and cute, and my commissions splendid for you guys!!

[junjunjunko]

always eagerly awaiting ur posts they r so good mwah 🙏🏻

Hehe thank you so much for your patience! I've been busy with comms, I really wanna save up despite I managed to get free from college. Plus, I've been buying gift for family for Christmas - although I recently caught a really bad headache and ear infection so I wasn't able to move much these days.

I wish everyone happy holidays tho!

[rescuefield-arch1]

by the time they're allowed to step on the field, claire's expression has already turned all shades of annoyed. she knows better than to burst at anyone - one wrong move and the press will be all over her talking about how she didn't do her job right. it takes so much patience really, to have such a responsibility and still remaining grounded enough to make sure everybody is in position and treating survivors with the care and dignity they deserve.

"gabe i can't see the whole quarantine zone from here, can you fly the drone a little higher please?" she requests through the comms, cheerful roger that! paired with the drone lifting up. "thank you." she counters as gaze drops on her tablet. a sigh pushes past lips, tired smile offered to pedro and inez walking by. and in all this claire still has no idea where the hell ark and neil are - one she can imagine, already on the field after their briefing on the way here ( though switching up comms would be appreciated ), while the other... well, she's stopped trying to understand anything neil does these days.

@deadaim : you sound like oprah, except mean.

when head tilts up, leon is standing by the tent entrance, greeting her with his usual cool guy demeanor that makes claire's heart flutter even though she would never admit it out loud. "i sound mean because you kept making me wait," she remarks, tablet left on the table along with her notes. "you guys took forever to give us the clear." frustration in her tone is hardto miss - sure her organisation is meant to deal with the aftermath of an operation, but it sure would be nice to have some more cooperation.

"is there anything else i need to know before letting everyone in?" she knows leon would never let her walk in a dangerous situation, but then again asking again to be sure can't hurt anyone. slender fingers idly play with the zip of his leather jacket as gaze sets on his features - an implicit way to ask him if he's fine, even though if everything goes as smooth as it's supposed to, she'll swing by his hotel room in between waiting for their respective flights to depart.

"good luck you might pass on your favourite girl too, perhaps?" blue hues study her surroundings for a moment, surprised about the absolute silence in the tent. hand reaching for his and bringing it close to her lips to press a kiss on its knuckles. she notes it's all scarred, dirty and bloody - whether his or someone else's she's not sure. "i'd clean you up myself but i still need to find ark before getting in the facility." or more like what's left of it. "see you later? and please tell gina if you're coming or not next week, she needs the exact number to move onto the catering situation."

[lgg5989]

Church Encounters Chapter 16 Part 1

Hey guys! Thanks to everyone for your continued support of this fic, @barbiewritesstuff and I are having a great time writing it. She is posting this on her tumblr as well so jump over and give her a like or a comment. We have had a few requests for side drabbles and stuff about these characters and we will be happy to answer them! Just send us asks :)

You can find the previous chapters on my Masterlist, and you can read the whole series so far on my Ao3! I made the moodboard, I hope you enjoy it! :D

We waffled on in this one...its a whole 11k words...hope you enjoy it! We do also want to let people know that our lives are getting a little busier and our updates might not be out as steadily as they have been up to this point. Thank you for the support and for your patience while we find a new groove :D

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Tagging: @roosterscock  @sydneyhlove​

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight 6TG with service from JFK to Rome, Italy. We are currently second in line for take-off and are expected to be in the air in approximately five minutes time. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for choosing Delta Airlines. Enjoy your flight.” The pilot announced through the comms. 

“Jake,” you whimpered,”I have to -- err -- I have to admit something,” you stuttered out. 

Jake had been leafing through his book, trying to find the page he had lost upon landing in New York. He had tried finding it during the wait for the flight to Italy but the book was nearing a thousand pages and he could only remember the word ‘caravan’, you privately thought he’d still be looking by the time you were due to land in almost nine hours. 

Hearing the tone of your voice made him look up with worried eyes, “Everything okay, darlin’”

“It’s just that -- erm --” you hesitated, “It’s just that I’m afraid of flying,” you finally spat out.

Jake looked at you and burst out laughing, “Sure you are,” he replied.

His laugh quietened down when he saw you were serious. His eyes swept over your face, taking in your fearful eyes, paled skin and moist skin.

“Oh, you’re not joking,” he said, “I don’t get it.”

“It’s a large metal can hurtling through the air, Jake,” you squeaked out, Jake opened his mouth to speak. You knew what he was about to tell you, it was the same thing Cyclone said, and Annie or Audrey whenever you took a plane. 

You weren’t sure why it scared you so much but it wasn’t just flying. Standing on a stool, or going up stairs and looking down had the same effect and when, at the academy, they had made you walk a catwalk, you had to be taken to the medbay after a panic attack and a fainting spell. 

But when you sat in the backseat of an F18, it didn’t feel the same. Even though the speeds were higher and crashes deadlier, the fact that you had some control over the aircraft seemed to make all fear dissipate.

“I don’t like it as a passenger,” is all you could reply to Jake’s silent question.

He considered your response for a minute, “Okaaaay,” he said, “I guess that’s fair?” 

You squeezed as close as you could to him in your seat, your hand reaching out to take his, “I’m just going to borrow this for a moment,” you said, trying to lighten the mood with some humour as you sat anxiously waiting for the plane to start down the runway. Your back was still, Jake’s hand held tightly in yours, and your eyes staring straight forward to the front of the plane.

Jake put his book on his knee and took your hand, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, “Its going to be alright darlin’.” 

You nodded, “I know but that doesn’t help the anxiety, unfortunately.” 

Jake put his mouth right next to your ear, he started humming a song. You weren’t sure what song at first, but then you recognized it as A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square. Closing your eyes, you tried to relax into the deep rumble coming from his chest, but it just wouldn't work. 

When the plane started to taxi from the gate, your grip on Jake’s hand got tighter than before. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, whispering to you, “It’s going to be alright, darlin’. I’m right here, I’ve gotcha.” 

During take-off, you were pretty sure that you crushed Jake’s hand. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any lasting damage. 

Once the plane was in the air you felt slightly more comfortable but you still hadn’t released his hand. Jake didn’t complain though. He had resumed the search for the lost page in his book. 

The flight was fairly uneventful, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. By the end however, if the flight itself wasn’t already grinding on your nerves, the baby that had been crying for the last hour was. 

You thanked God above when the stewardess came over the intercom system, “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing in Rome shortly. If you have a connecting flight please be sure to check that it is still on time. The stewardesses are coming around now to collect any trash. Please stow all try tables and unsecured items for landing, thank you for flying Delta Airlines.” 

You looked at Jake enviously, you had booked a late flight out of the US to ensure that you arrived in Rome during the late morning. You had been planning on sleeping during the flight, but with your anxiety about flying you hadn’t caught any shut eye. Jake had snored practically the whole flight, only waking when you elbowed him because the old lady across the aisle was shooting him dirty looks for disturbing her knitting. 

Once the flight had landed, you deboarded the plane and made your way through customs. After checking your Visa and the card you had filled in on board to the border control officer, they let you through to baggage claim. As you had been one of the last ones to check in in Annapolis, you guessed your suitcases would arrive last on the conveyor belt. You were right, thirty minutes after passing through customs, you finally spotted your luggage coming onto the belt. 

Jake grabbed it for the both of you and the two of you made your way out of the airport and into a taxi. The ride was nice, but you and Jake were both ready to stretch your legs after the long flight. Jake helped you out of the taxi when you got to the hotel a quiet, “My lady,” falling from his lips as he held a hand out to you. 

You laughed at his antics as the two of you made your way into the hotel, Jake checking in using his fluent italian 

You had taken care of the wedding and booked, made and decorated most of the event but he had insisted you let him take care of the honeymoon. The Hotel, therefore, had been a complete surprise. You knew Jake would spring for something a little nicer, but the Bio Hotel Raphael exceeded all expectations.

The entrance had been beautiful, with the luscious green vines climbing up the front of the building and fighting for wall space with other greenery, but once you had walked into the lobby your breath caught as you took everything in. The receptionist handed Jake the keys as you ran your finger over the detailed carving of the large oak front desk, he led you to the lifts, squeezing your hand as the box left the ground floor and stifling a laugh when it stopped rather harshly and you squeezed your eyes shut and gasped.

Jake unlocked the hotel’s door. He pushed it open and bowed, “Mrs Seresin,” he said, letting you pass first.

“Not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” you said, turning around to look back at him, “Not sure I want to, though, I like the butterflies,” 

He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you as close to him as he could and capturing your lips in his. He broke the kiss a few moments later, moving his head to rest right next to your ear, “If those butterflies ever go, tell me. I’d be more than happy to put something else in there instead,” he whispered, letting you go with a laugh.

“You’re a pig, Mr. Seresin,” you joked,

Jake hummed, “I see what you mean about the butterflies,” he said, grabbing you again, “And you didn’t seem to mind me being a pig back in Annapolis… I seem to remember you liking it very much.”

“Jake! At least keep your voice down, the door is still open,” you laughed,

“And,” Jake said, flipping you around in his arms. Moving one arm to rest by your waist he pressed your hips into his own and added, “you haven’t even seen the room yet.”

Your breath caught in your lungs as you took in the room. As you stepped out of the entryway, removing your shoes so as to not mark the beautiful hardwood floors, you came face to face with a gorgeous antique desk, decorated with a magnifying glass, a leatherbound book of Rome’s history and a beautiful lamp. You ran your hand against the cool wooden surface briefly before turning towards the rest of the room. 

Jake was already lying on the bed, having removed his shoes and unbuttoned the top of his shirt and unbuckled his belt. He had sunk into the mattress of the King sized bed and laid there with his eyes closed, a peaceful expression etched on his face.

You marvelled at the quaint living room, two elegant blue chairs sat opposite of each other across a dark oak coffee table, an expresso love seat took up the space between them. Taking off the light jacket you had worn on the plane and in the airport, you moved to the bathroom. Upon opening the door, you let out a gasp. The first thing your eyes latched on was the beautiful marble bathtub. It was huge, your mind wandering to how many people it could possibly fit and if your new husband would like to share the bath. 

The marble floor and walls shone bright in the white light of the overhead lamp. The dual vanity counter was set on a teak wood cabinet, the light colour of the wood complementing the white marble that was tied into every element of the bathroom.

Wandering back into the bedroom, you found Jake right where you left him, “You’ll have to drag me out of here when it’s time to check out,” you told him, falling back into the mattress to join him on the bed. You cursed under your breath, “It’s like laying on a cloud. Yeah, I am never leaving this place.” 

“That’s a shame, there’s a great rooftop bar…” he said, his voice quiet, like he was on the brink of sleep once again.

You paused for a moment, “Technically, I wouldn’t be leaving the hotel…” you replied.

“You are so easy to persuade,” he laughed, “We can go after we shower and get out of our flight clothes. I feel like I smell like airport air freshener.”

Jake pushed himself off of the bed, shedding his clothes in front of you before stepping into the bathroom, “You know, I reckon we can fit two people in that bathtub,” he called out to you a second later. 

“Is that so?” you replied, a little smirk making its way onto your face.

“Want to try?” he asked, appearing at the door. 

Jake leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes swept over him, taking in the bulging muscles in his arms, his toned thighs and his dark, blown-out pupils. 

“Only if you make me,” you replied. 

In a second, Jake had crossed the distance between the bathroom and the bed and joined you on the mattress. He straddled your waist, making quick work of removing your shirt, before unbuttoning your jeans and leaving the bed to shimmy them off. Then, Jake scooped you up bridal style, eliciting a giggle from you.

“Your wish is my command, Mrs. Seresin,” he breathed into your ear as he carried you to the bathroom.

----

“Room service!” The waiter announced through the door, waking you up. Jake had already been awake for hours, and by the looks of it he had both been to the Hotel gym and on a run around Rome, no doubt scouting out some of the places he had planned to take you to see.

After relieving the waiter of his tray, Jake carried it through to the terrace, dropping off a coffee by your bedside to entice you out of the covers. You joined him ten minutes later after a quick shower and getting dressed in a pair of white linen trousers and a black top. You sat down next to him, both of your chairs turned away from the sliding glass door and towards Rome, over which the sun had started to rise.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked as you finished your last bite of croissant and washed it down with a glass of orange juice.

Jake downed his espresso, “Well, your aunt is taking us for coffee in about three hours,” he said. Your aunt and that evening’s activity were the only things you had asked Jake to include in the planning for Rome. She lived by Piazza Navona, roughly fifteen minutes away from where you were staying, in a townhouse squeezed between two cafés. You had spent many summers sitting with her on the balcony overlooking the piazza sipping coffee and listening to classical music as she painstakingly tried teaching you Italian. Although you could pick languages up relatively easily, younger you had been more interested in people watching to listen to your Aunt Caitlyn. 

After killing time with Jake and little else, you finally got ready to go. You fished out a pair of white tennis shoes and checked out nothing was missing from your bag while Jake fastened his belt, then made your way downstairs and onto the paved roads of Rome. Fifteen minutes later, you were knocking on your aunt’s bright yellow door using the lion’s head knocker.

When she opened the door, she was angrily shouting at someone on the phone, ranting about something you didn’t understand. The only words you managed to catch were Freud, Picasso and mother, which posed more questions than it answered but from the smile on Jake’s face, he had caught all of it and immediately took a liking to Aunt Caitlyn. You walked inside the house, careful not to run into any of the piles of books she had laying about.

She slammed the phone down on her coffee table so hard some leftover coffee flew out of a nearby mug and let out a shaky breath. She closed her eyes to collect herself for a moment, “Y/n, Darling,” she said a minute later with a large smile, “It has been so long!” Aunt Caitlyn threw her arms around you, hugging you tight. Then, seeing Jake, she added, “And you must be Giacobbe,” embracing him as well.

“Jacob, actually. I was the only one not to get the Italian name,” he explained. Your aunt looked at him as if to decide whether or not that would bother her, after a few moments, she shrugged, “Do you have many siblings, Jacob?”

“One sister and two brothers,” Jake replied, “My sister is engaged and both of my brothers are married with children,” he anticipated.

Your aunt picked up the spilt cup and a few more on her way to the kitchen. You heard her empty them in her sink and place them in the dishwasher before turning it on.

“Yes, his sister got engaged at our wedding actually,” you said, looking around the house. Your aunt had always been chaotic and her living quarters reflected that, from piles of books lining the walls to loose sheets of papers littering the floor.

“Ah yes! Sorry I couldn’t make it to the wedding, we got a new set of paintings at the museums and they needed me in restauration,” she said, “I thought we could have coffee near the Pantheon, it’s nicer than next door,” she added, picking up her handbag and walking out into the street. Ten minutes later, Aunt Caitlyn ushered you into a chair after turning them towards the monument. A waiter came by to take your orders and you all settled into a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“I take it you work for a museum?” Jake asked.

Aunt Caitlyn hummed, “Galleria Borghese, I’m the head of restoration for all paintings and artefacts there. I hear you are a pilot,” she added, taking a sip of her coffee almost as soon as the waiter set it down in front of her. 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve just recently been promoted to Lieutenant Commander,” Jake said proudly. You gave him a smile, squeezing his hand in yours. 

Your aunt hummed, a sour look coming over her face, “Hum, too much creamer. So you are going to be able to take care of our girl right? She deserves the best.”

Jake coughed, choking on his coffee, the unexpected question making you shoot your aunt  fierce look, “Auntie…” you started. 

“What? I want to make sure the man knows what I expect, the lord knows my dear sister-in-law didn’t,” she said quietly, her voice sounding bitter. 

Your heart warmed, it was good to know that she thought your mother’s treatment of you to be unfair. Jake cleared his throat before answering your aunt’s interrogation, “Y/n is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The only thing she isn’t above in my life is God.” 

Aunt Caitlyn nodded, “Good, be sure to keep it that way. I’d hate for the Admiral to get a call from an old friend.” 

You saw some of the blood drain out of Jake’s face at the thought, “Of course, we wouldn’t want that.” 

The three of you sat in a somewhat comfortable silence for a few more minutes before Aunt Caitlyn’s coffee ran out. Standing up, she pulled you into a hug, “I better be going, the museum opens soon. Maybe the two of you can come by today for a private tour, humm?”

“That sounds great Auntie, we will see you this afternoon,” you said, squeezing her tightly before settling down in your seat again. 

“Alright young man, keep her safe. I’ll see both of you later,” she said, pointing a stern finger at Jake before shooting him a smile and making her way down the street towards the Galleria Borghese. 

“Sorry about that, had I realised that she would interrogate you–” you started, but Jake cut you off. 

“It’s alright, she is protective of you, and it’s not like I haven’t heard it all before from your sisters,” he said with a smile, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a delicate kiss to your knuckles, “Are you ready mi amore?” 

“I believe so, where are we heading?” you asked, gathering up your belongings from the chair you had been seated in. 

“Trevi’s fountain!” Jake said excitedly as he placed some money on the table to pay for your coffees. 

The two of you enjoyed the walk, taking a few detours to stop in other piazzas before coming upon the fountain. As you stood there, looking up at the intricate design of the fountain, you felt Jake’s arms wrap around you from behind, “What do you think?” he asked. 

“I think it's beautiful,” you said. You and Jake had managed to make it to the front of the fountain and you found yourself distracted by its clear blue water. The crowd surrounding the fountain was pressing around the two of you more intensely and it made you nervous. Feeling you stiffen in his arms, Jake pulled you more firmly into his chest, effectively blocking you from the strangers around you. You felt his breath on your neck before his deep voice echoed into your ear, “Did you know that this fountain was constructed in the 18th century?” he asked. 

You cleared your throat, closing your eyes and letting his arms and voice envelope you in a comfortable warmth, “No, I didn’t,” you said. 

You could feel his mouth form a smile near your ear, “There’s this saying, a myth really, about throwing coins into the fountain. If you throw only one, you’ll return to Rome. If you throw two, you’ll fall in love with an attractive Italian. And if you throw three, you’ll marry the person that you met,” he said, pausing a moment before removing one arm from your waist. You felt him dig around in his pocket, and upon opening your eyes, saw he had presented you with three coins, “How many are you going to throw darlin’?”

You let out a laugh, pressing a kiss to his lips, “Only one. I’ve already fallen in love with an attractive Italian, and he just married me.” 

Jake smiled at you with his megawatt grin before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Feeling better than before, you collected one of the coins from his hand and tossed it into the fountain. Settling back in his arms, you and Jake stood at the edge for another moment before you said, “Are you ready?” 

“If you are darlin’,” he replied, pulling away from your back and taking your hand. Jake’s large frame split the crowd around you easily and you slipped past people behind him. Taking lead, Jake slipped your arm into his, leading you north of the Trevi Fountain and towards the Spanish Steps. You passed through a few piazzas and past a department store before coming to a stop at the bottom of the steps in the Piazza di Spagna. 

Looking up the one hundred and thirty-five steps, you shaded your eyes with your hand. The late morning sun was bright against your eyes. A warm hand on your arm startled you, looking over at where Jake was standing you saw that he was holding out a pair of sunglasses to you. Taking them from him, you smiled as you put them on. They were one of his pairs, but since the two of you had started dating, he began carrying two sets of sunglasses on him. You had a bad habit of forgetting yours. 

Placing the Ray-Bans on your face, you gave him a smile, “How do I look?” 

“Beautiful, as always,” Jake said, slipping his own pair on his eyes before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

The two of you climbed the steps hand in hand, stopping along the way to admire the views provided by the steps and people watch. When you got to the top, you sat on a bench outside of the Trinita dei Monti, the Church of the Most Holy Trinity on the Mounts. 

As the time grew closer and closer to eleven in the morning, a small group of people gathered around the front of the church. Jake turned to you, “They are doing a tour, do you want to join?”

“Sure!” you said, springing up from the bench excitedly and joining the line. Jake paid the admission fee only after confirming with you that it was alright if the tour was in Italian. As you moved with the group through the church, Jake translated for you quietly. You were entranced by the paintings, statues, stained glass, and tapestries that they had preserved and on display. The convent was quiet except for the sound of your feet on the ground and the tour guide’s smooth voice. 

The tour lasted an hour and thirty minutes and by the time you were done, you and Jake were ready to grab some lunch before meeting your aunt at the museum. The walk was going to be twenty minutes, but after being cooped up in an aeroplane for the long flight, you didn’t mind. Along the way, you stopped at a cafe, both of you ordering coffees and lunch. 

“Are you having fun so far?” Jake asked. 

“Yes! I can’t believe we have another ten days of this before we have to go home. I don’t know how you managed it,” you said, taking another bite from your sandwich. 

“Well, when you’re married to the Admiral’s daughter, you get some special treatment now and then,” Jake said, a smirk on his face. 

Letting out a surprised laugh you responded, “You didn’t!” 

“Oh I did, but he didn’t mind too much,” Jake said, “I might be paying for it later, hopefully he will take it easy on me.” 

“What did you trade him for?” you asked, knowing very well how Beau worked. 

“I may or may not have offered up some free babysitting services,” Jake said, a nervous look on his face. 

You laughed again, “Oh my, you are really in trouble then.” 

“Yeah, it’s a good thing I have you to help me, right?” he asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin. 

You let out a quiet humm, “I suppose since I have thus far enjoyed our vacation, there isn’t a reason I couldn’t help you.”

“Good, because I don’t know if I could handle all of his kids at one time. Peter and Matthew are more than a handful by themselves,” he replied, sounding rather relieved at the news. 

Once you had finished lunch, and Jake paid, you finished your walk to the Galleria Borghese. You had let your aunt know that you would be there soon and she met you on the steps outside of the museum. 

“Ah, sweet girl, how was the fountain, and the steps?” she asked, embracing you in a tight hug like she hadn’t just seen you that morning. 

“It was wonderful! A bit crowded, but they were both good to see. We also toured the Trinita dei Monti,” you told her, stepping back from her hug and letting her guide you into the building, Jake following close behind. 

“Good, good. I was hoping it wouldn’t be too busy for you, but this is a popular time to visit,” she said. As you walked through the front doors of the museum, she waved to the woman sitting behind the ticket counter, “These two are with me Luciana,” she called out. 

As she guided you around the museum, telling you the history of each painting, statue, and mural, the time flew by. When you looked down at your watch, you were surprised to find that it was almost six in the evening and you had been walking around the gallery for four hours. 

“Goodness,” you said, cutting off your aunt’s explanation of another painting hanging in the gallery. 

“What’s that love?” she asked, turning to look at you. 

“I just didn’t realise the time,” you said quickly, “We should go back to the hotel or we will be late for the opera.” 

“You’re right dear, shall I give you and Jacob a ride back?” she asked. 

“That would be great,” you said, “We can meet you at the Opera once we are dressed.” 

“Alright, let’s go then,” Aunt Catilyn said, leading the two of you to her car. She had never been overly worried about what people thought of her wealth or status, and her car reflected that. It was nothing special, just a little Camry to get her from point A to B. You offered Jake the front seat, but he declined, “You sit up front with your aunt, I’ll be okay,” he insisted. 

You laughed when he squished himself into the back seat, his legs cramped against your seat back. Your aunt made short work of the drive, and soon you and Jake were back in your hotel room. The length of the day was starting to catch up to you and the bed looked so inviting. Jake caught the longing look you shot at the bed, “No, no, you need to get ready. I’ll order us some room service okay?”

You let out a disappointed huff, “Okay, can I have a double shot of espresso in mine please?” 

Jake let out a quiet laugh before pressing a kiss to your lips, “Of course baby, I’ll make it a double.” 

Nodding, you made your way into the bathroom to freshen up. A few minutes into your shower, you heard the door to the bathroom open, “Coffee will be here in a few,” Jake said, you could see him through the steamed up glass of the shower door. 

“Okay, I’ll be done in a minute,” you called back, but before you could shut off the water, the door opened behind you, “Jake!” you squealed. 

“What? I need a shower too, we are conserving water!” he said, laughter in his voice as he pulled you back against him. 

Wrestling yourself half heartedly out of his grip you opened the door and stepped out on to the bath mat, “You are a pig Mr. Seresin,” you said once again, wrapping a white fluffy towel around yourself. 

“That’s Lieutenant Commander Seresin to you ma’am,” Jake shot back, his smile visible through the steam built up on the glass. 

You stuck your tongue out at him before making your way to the bedroom. Pulling one of the nicer dresses you packed for the trip from your bag, you laid it on the bed and went about getting dressed. 

When you heard the shower stop a moment later, you walked back into the bathroom, holding the front of the dress up on your chest, “Jake, could you do the back up for me?” you asked, turning to present him with the half zipped dress. 

He wrapped the towel around his waist before stepping towards you, “Of course darlin’,” he replied, his voice deeper than usual. You felt him run a hand up your spine before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. His hands followed the same path back down before doing up the zip in one fluid motion. 

Just as he moved his hands back around to your waist, there was a knock on the door. Picking Jake’s wallet up off the coffee table, you tipped room service for the coffees before taking a sip of your delicious brew, “Coffee’s here,” you called to him. 

“Okay, be ready in a minute,” he called back, you found him in the bedroom putting on the clothes you had laid out for him on the bed, buttoning up the crisp blue shirt and belting up the black slacks while you ran around the room to find your cardigan and a change of shoes. Rome, while beautiful, was entirely unsuited for the pair of heels you had wanted to wear. 

As if on cue, reception called as you laced up your tennis shoes. You went down to meet the cab, gingerly climbing in and sitting quietly as the man made animated conversation with Jake before stepping back out to take in the building of the Teatro dell’Opera. You had been here before for a few auditions but you had never taken the main entrance. Cast and musicians either took the stage door, or the service door round the back. As you stepped into the magnificent theatre, you found yourself nostalgic for the terrible lighting and uneven tiles backstage, something you had cursed almost ten years ago as you tried to negotiate it in your pointe shoes. 

Box number seven had never been your favourite to sit in but your aunt swore by it. Proud owner of a seasonal ticket, she somehow always managed to snatch the box whenever she came and by the way the doorman had greeted her, you wondered if she didn’t have an inside man. Still you had to admit that it offered a great view of the stage.

“Who did Elena say she was again?” Aunt Caitlyn asked as you walked into the box, dropping off your bag by the foot of the chair and trying to make yourself comfortable on the lumpy velvet seat.

“Isn’t it written on the card?” you asked, shimmying in your seat. Your aunt shrugged, “She’s playing Marie,” you replied. 

You had met Elena on your first audition in Rome. You were the two youngest girls, clearly at a disadvantage as all the others seemed so familiar with both the stage and the cast but something had shined through that day as out of the fifty-something young girls the directors had seen, both you and Elena had been cast as Gingersnaps. Striking up a friendship had been rough at first. You spoke English and Elena spoke Russian but you had found a happy middle in French, a language you had taken an immediate liking to in school and seemed to have a talent for despite the hostile grammar and difficult pronunciation. Even now, whenever you found a minute to chat, talking was done in French. 

She had messaged you out of the blue roughly three months ago after having completed a course to become a professor in ballet at the National Dance Academy. Since then, you had chatted nearly every day, shocking her with the news of your wedding and being surprised in return when she announced the birth of a little baby girl in December. In order to catch up, she had extended free tickets and a backstage pass. 

The curtain rose over the stage as the orchestra played the overture and the ballet began. After nearly two hours of dancing including a short intermission, and a few mistakes which you were fairly certain only you caught, it was time to meet Elena by the wings.

"Ça va ma cocotte? Ça fait tellement longtemps!” Elena exclaimed, jumping through the door before you could even touch the handle. She threw her arms around you, squeezing the boning of the corset uncomfortably against you, “Oui, ils ne nous ont même pas donné de nouveaux costumes…” she lamented. You took another look at the costume. The blue dress looked old and worn, pinned in some places and taken in or let out in others. Elena was right, it seemed to have lived through a ballet or three too many. 

“Pas grave,” she said, watching you frown at the state of the dress you had both dreamt of wearing once upon a time. You reached to touch the tulle where it had snagged against something but she swatted your hand away, “Tu ne me présentes pas?” she asked, giving you a pointed look and a nod towards Jake.

“Right, oui. Introductions, sorry,” you told Jake, “Jake this is Elena,” then, turning back towards your friend, “Elena, voici mon mari, Jake,” 

“Mon Dieu, ils sont tous aussi beaux en Amérique?" she asked, shooting you a wink. You usually minded when people commented on Jake’s appearance, not that you would ever admit that you were jealous, of course, but your brain seemed insistent on hearing ‘he’s out of your league’ when the only thing people said was ‘he’s handsome’. When it came from Elena however, you found you didn’t mind, probably because you knew she was rather happily paired with the Nutcracker Prince himself.

“Il parle français?” she asked, suddenly panicked Jake might have understood. 

You shook your head, with a smile,“Anglais et Italien,” you reassured her.

“Russian, too,” Jake said, “Not much, though,” he added when Elena understood.

“Sdelay yey bol'no, i ya sdelayu to zhe samoye s toboy,” she smiled. 

Jake grinned at her threat. You were a wonderful woman, someone that many people held dear and someone people couldn’t help but want to protect. He had been told to treat you right so many times now and with the same tone of voice that he could have heard the first part of that sentence in any language and he would have been able to complete the second part by himself. ‘Don’t hurt her or I will do the same to you,’ was now firmly in the top ten things people had most often told him.

“ya by nikogda,” he replied, with a little nod of the head. Of course he would never.

“Je l’aime bien, Y/n,” Elena winked at you again. The entire exchange had flown over your head but you were happy they both seemed to get along, “Venez, je vais vous presenter la famille,” she said, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you inside.

You had met Nikola before, albeit briefly and over skype, still when he saw the three of you approach with his wife he jumped up from his seat and greeted you like an old friend. 

“My English is poor,” he said in an apologetic tone of voice, “I can understand but you will have to speak slowly. My name is Nikola Popov, I am Elena’s husband,” he added with a thick russian accent.

“This,” he said, moving back to point towards a pushchair, “is our son. His name is Dmitri.”

Elena advanced towards the pushchair, lifting the baby out of it and cradling the five and a half month old in her arms, “Tu veux le tenir?” she asked, already knowing your answer. You had never in your life passed up on holding a baby and you suspected that if you ever did it would only be because you were already holding one.

You nodded furiously under Jake’s amused gaze. Elena gave you her son, depositing him into your arms with a look of warning which you only understood when she let go of the boy and his full weight became apparent. Dmitri looked at you with two large blue eyes searching your face for any sign of recognition, when he found none, his face twisted in a frown. The little boy’s eyes filled with tears and his bottom lip quivered, but when you smiled, gently taking in his little fist into your bigger hand, all traces of sadness vanished and he returned a large toothless grin. You gently let go of his fist to tickle his tummy, eliciting a round of delighted giggles.

“Il est mignon,” you stated, “He’s adorable,” you translated to Jake, who nodded without even looking at the child but instead staring directly at you. You raised an eyebrow at his unreadable expression but he just winked.

"Ça fait envie, non?” Elena giggled, her laugh matching her son’s to a T. It did make you want one, especially when you looked at his cherub-like face and you could see Elena’s nose and ears and Nikola’s eyes and smile. 

Dmitri giggled again, reaching out to you. You flipped him upright carefully so he hung out in front of you. His little hands came up to touch your face, gently petting your cheeks and then your hair, seemingly mesmerised by your golden curls unaware they were much the same as his. 

A thought fluttered through your head as you smiled at the boy, ‘I hope they have Jake’s eyes,’ you thought. The image of a little girl not much older than Dmitri appeared in your mind, bringing with it a wave of butterflies, she had your curly blonde locks, Jake’s bright green eyes and that Seresin smile that could make you do just about anything. 

Dancers changed back into their regular clothes and slowly made their way out of the wings and into the cool Roman night. Before you left, Elena dragged you towards the stage, giving you a pair of pointe shoes. Behind you, Nikola fiddled with his phone, connecting it to the theatre’s speakers. Music echoed through the walls of the empty Opera House. You took a few tentative steps, the shoes having been broken in by Elena and moulded to her feet felt strange and uncomfortable to you but confident that you would not be breaking your ankle, you followed her lead, dancing a few steps of the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy. 

As you finished, you marvelled at how well you had remembered all the steps. You and Elena had often practised together as you spent your summers together, careful not to wake up your aunt as you twirled and pirouetted your way into the night. 

A flash woke you up from your reverie and you looked back at Nikola who had taken out his phone and snapped a picture of the two of you. You walked over to him and looked over his shoulder to see a surprisingly nice photo of your and Elena pulling concentrated faces as you danced. To the left of the frame you saw Jake, looking at you with a bright smile, his phone out as he filmed. 

—

The next morning came quickly as you and Jake spent only some of the night sleeping. Your aunt was kind enough to take you to the Colosseum in the morning and the two of you enjoyed the day together. Jake had scheduled a tour of the ruins in the morning and you both were quickly worn out from your lack of sleep and the walking from the previous day. The long walk through the Colosseum had taken you through the ruins and under the Colosseum where gladiators used to prepare for battle against one another. 

When the tour was over Jake took you to a cafe overlooking the Arch of Constantine. The ceremonial arch was the place where the great rulers of ancient Rome returned to the city after a victorious battle. 

After eating your fill of pasta marinara you finished your lunch with an espresso. Jake took your hand and led you to the Roman Forum, where you had another tour awaiting you. After viewing the crumbling ruins, the tour guide along the way explaining how the forum used to be used for all kinds of events, you were thoroughly amazed by the fact that the ruins were still standing all of these years later. 

Once your second tour of the day was done, you insisted on taking a break at another cafe. The coffee in Italy was something to die for and you wouldn’t be passing up any opportunity to have another barista’s creation. Dragging Jake into a corner cafe on the way to Palatine Hill, you ordered two cups of coffee as well as a plate of cookies and cannolis. 

“This is your secret isn’t it?” Jake asked, his mouth full of a bite of cookie. 

You looked at him, confused, “What do you mean?” you asked, taking another sip of your latte. 

“This is how you are so sweet all the time, they do say you are what you eat,” he said, giving you a wink. 

You tried to hold back the laugh, but you couldn’t help it. Everyone in the cafe turned to look at you when you burst out laughing at Jake’s innuendo. 

“You are so funny, mio amore,” you said when your laughter subsided, trailing one finger up his arm gently, watching as he got goosebumps from the slight action. 

Leaning in close to him, you whispered in his ear, “You haven’t seen how sweet I can be.” 

Jake looked at you with wide eyes as you pulled away from him, “Is that a promise.” 

“I don’t know, you’ll have to find out,” you said, daring him to rise to the challenge, before he could respond, you finished the last of your drink, “Let’s go husband, I believe we have one last tour to go on,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the cafe. 

The Domus Aurea tour at Palatine Hill was in ruins like the rest of the Roman buildings you had visited that day, but it was more beautiful, in your opinion, than even the Colosseum. The dirt walls of the building were still standing strong, a dark tan against the blue skyline. As you were guided through the buildings you couldn’t believe that people were lucky enough to live near something so beautiful all the time. 

You were sure people might say the same about the United States’ National Parks, but at that moment, you weren’t sure you would believe them. Once the tour was over, you and Jake meandered your way back to the hotel. The long walk was killing your feet, but the time spent together was worth every moment of pain. 

When you finally made it back to the room, the two of you enjoyed a relaxing bath together before ordering room service for the evening. The Caesar salad that you received was one of the best you ever had and the hotel’s dessert selection did not disappoint. 

You laid back against the headboard of the bed, your eyes closed as Jake rubbed the soles of your feet from the long day of walking. 

“Are you having fun?” he asked. 

Opening your eyes, you saw the vulnerability on his face, “Yes, I’m having a wonderful time. You are in charge of planning all the vacations from here on out.” 

Jake laughed at you, “Are you sure? You seem tired.” 

“I am tired, but it is a good tired, I promise,” you replied, smiling at him sleepily. 

“Alright Princess, well let’s get you to bed then, we have another early morning tomorrow,” he said, pressing a kiss to the sole of your foot before letting it drop to the bed. 

“What are we doing?” you asked through a yawn as you got up and peeled the sheets back on the bed. 

Jake hummed, “I can’t tell you, it's a surprise.” 

Jake climbed into bed next to you, and you laid your head on the pillow, you were content to never move from Jake’s arms again. His warm chest pressed to your back, and his quiet breathing sounding in your ear. 

“Goodnight mi amore,” Jake said into your hair, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. 

“Sweet dreams Jakey,” you replied, your eyes already closed as sleep started to drag you under, hopefully you would get to have a lie in tomorrow morning. 

—-

You were woken up in the morning by Jake climbing out of the bed, leaving your back cold without his body heat. 

“Where ‘r you goin’?” you called after him sleepily. 

Jake turned around, coming back to the bed for a moment, he pressed a kiss to your cheek before saying in a whisper, “To shower, we have an early morning this morning for my surprise.” 

You let out a groan, “Jake, we are supposed to relax on our honeymoon.” 

“Come on darlin’, you’re going to like it I promise,” he said, “Come shower with me?” 

“Coffee?” you asked, cracking one eye to glare up at him blearily. 

He laughed quietly before grabbing your hand, pulling you into a sitting position on the bed, “I’ve got it coming princess, come on, time to shower.” 

“Be there in a minute,” you said, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, watching as your husband turned and made his way into the bathroom. You heard the shower start, deciding to appease him, you climbed out of bed. Walking into the bathroom, you squinted your eyes at the harsh light. 

“Why did you have to be a morning person?” you asked as you put toothpaste on your toothbrush. 

Jake wiped some of the steam from the glass of the shower to look at you, “Because the Lord wanted you to get up earlier,” he replied, a smile cresting over his face. 

“Speaking of the Lord,” you said after spitting into the sink, “I think we can attend mass with my aunt, if you want.” 

Jake hummed, “I think that sounds like a plan, why don’t we see what we feel like doing after my surprise?” 

“Okay,” you said, stripping off your clothes to join him in the shower, “What do I need to wear for your surprise?” you asked, flinching at the heat from the water, “Goodness!” you almost shouted into the bathroom, moving away from the steamy spray, “I thought you only took cold showers!”

“Darlin’ we’re married, I’m not taking another cold shower for the rest of my life,” Jake said, turning the water dial down so the water would cool off for you. He nuzzled his head into your neck, “Speaking of a cold shower, if I don’t get out now, I might have to go back on that promise.” 

He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck before opening the shower door and grabbing his towel from the rack. You watched as he sauntered out of the bathroom after putting some gel in his wet hair. 

When you had finished in the shower, you pulled yourself from under the calming spray. After you dried off and did your skincare routine by the sink, you wandered into the bedroom to find that Jake had laid out an outfit for you: A white maxi dress and a cream coloured woollen jumper that he had paired with your usual white tennis shoes.

“This looks nice,” you said, glancing over at Jake who was dressed in a tan t-shirt with a pair of slacks. 

“I’m allowed to dress up for my wife, aren’t I?” he asked, looking over at you while he snapped his watch on to his wrist. 

Squinting your eyes at him, you said, “I’ll figure out this surprise eventually, Seresin.” 

“Sure you will darlin’, but until then, get dressed, I don’t want to be late!” he teased, rubbing his hand across the top of your bare back. 

When the two of you left the hotel twenty minutes later, a cup of coffee in your hand, you still had no idea where he was taking you. Jake signalled a taxi and held the door open as you climbed in first. Leaning into the front seat, he whispered something to the driver, not allowing you to hear the destination. 

The ride was a quick fifteen minutes, and Jake kept you distracted the entire time, pointing at different buildings and cafes as they passed by. When you climbed out of the cab you were surprised by the crowd, looking up you recognized the church immediately as Saint Peter’s Basilica. 

“We are at the Vatican?” you asked, your voice sounding excited even to yourself. 

“Honey, we are Roman Catholic, of all the places to visit in Rome this had to be one of them,” he said sarcastically. 

You gave him a light hearted smack across the chest before walking towards the crowd, “Where are we all heading?” 

“You’ll see,” he answered, winking at you as he took your hand in his own and led you towards the doors of the church. 

When you got inside, Jake presented two tickets to a man just inside the door and he let you both inside the breathtaking church. You found a seat in one of the hundreds of pews that filled the room. Suddenly feeling self conscious, you turned to Jake, “I didn’t bring my veil.” 

He gave you a small smile before pulling a neatly folded piece of fabric from his pocket, “I knew you wouldn’t want to come without it, I grabbed it from your case this morning.” 

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you, do you think you could help me?” you asked, trying to position the veil on your freshly cleaned hair. Jake’s hand disappeared back into his pocket, pulling out two bobby pins. He helped you straighten the veil on your head before he threaded the pins through it and into your hair. 

A bell rang, signalling the beginning of the mass, and you both stood up, facing the front of the glorious church that was now packed to the brim. Jake took your hand in his, and you felt him give it a little squeeze when the pope himself walked up the aisle holding the holy bible up for all to see. You let out a quiet gasp, realising that you were about to attend not just any mass, but a pope’s mass. 

“You didn’t,” you whispered to him quietly under your breath, shock and surprise filling your voice. 

“I did,” he said, a smile splitting his face.

The mass was read in Latin, which neither you or Jake could understand a word of, but that didn’t matter. People from all nations and languages were standing in the church and the chorus of voices that spoke through mass wasn’t just one language but several. The two of you managed to keep up with what was happening, Jake still pressing a kiss to your cheek when it was time to share peace. 

When the mass was over, as you were leaving the church, disappointed that you had to leave so soon. Jake glanced back at you and you tried to cover up your disappointment with a smile, but he still caught it. 

“Don’t worry, we’re coming back,” he said, “I figured I should feed you first.” 

You gave him a genuine smile, “That sounds lovely!” 

Jake took you to brunch at a quaint cafe just outside of Saint Peter’s Square. Once the two of you had eaten your fill, you walked back through the square and into the church. Jake presented tickets for a tour and you waited for a large enough group to join before he took you around the large church and some of its grounds. The ticket included the opportunity to climb the steps up the Dome and get a view from the top of the church across Rome. You looked at Jake nervously as you boarded the lift that would take you to the steps. He took your hand in his and whispered in your ear, “It’ll be okay, I’m right here, alright?”

You nodded at him silently, gripping his hand tight. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as the lift started moving. Glancing out the glass windows, you were able to take in the breathtaking art that decorated the walls of the church. When the lift came to a stop you both climbed out along with the rest of the tour group and started climbing the remaining stairs that the lift didn't cut out, all three hundred and twenty of them. 

When you climbed the last step, you thought that your journey was over, but you were sorely mistaken. You watched with horror as the tour guide started walking in a small path around the edge of the dome before disappearing through another hidden doorway on the other side, leading somewhere else. You turned to Jake with wide eyes and he squeezed your hand again, “You can do it baby, we will let the rest of the group go first.” 

An older man placed his hand on Jake’s arm, “Actually why don’t you two go first, that way you know we are all right behind you!”

You looked between Jake’s questioning face and the man, “Alright, we will go out first then,” you said, trying to give him a polite smile. 

“No pressure dear,” his wife added, “I used to be terrified of this climb and now I love it, just take your time.”

Nodding, you let Jake lead you to the doorway. He went first, gently pulling you along with him onto the walk path. There was a short railing but not one enough to make it comfortable for you. Gripping his hand tightly, you followed him around the dome, trying for the life of you to keep your eyes facing up and not look down towards the floor. When you finally made it to the other doorway, you were almost blinded by the light from the sun.

When you pushed it open you were surprised to find that you were standing on the roof of St. Peter’s Basilica. You felt your hand clench around Jake’s in a death grip as you stepped out onto the roof, but when you realised that there were tall, human height, railings around the decking, you let out a sigh of relief. You felt safer up here than on the narrow walk path at the top of the dome. 

Jake led you towards an edge and the two of you looked out into the distance Jake pulled out his phone, taking a few pictures of the skyline. The older couple from earlier approached you, “Honey, would you mind taking our picture? We can take one for the two of you as well.” 

“Of course,” you said, taking her phone and holding it up, “Big smiles!” you said before clicking the shutter a few times before handing their phone back to them. 

She took Jake’s offered phone from him, waiting as he wrapped one of his big arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. 

“Alright, say Amore!” she said, smiling as she took the picture of the two of you. 

She handed Jake’s phone back to him before thanking you one last time, her and her husband making their way to the railing. 

“They seem nice,” you said, “Cute. Do you think we will be like them one day?”

He raised a brow at you, “Old or cute?” he asked teasingly. 

“Both,” you said with a giggle, taking in the skyline around you. “Thank you for taking me up here, it was worth the little bit of fear.”

“I’m glad you like it, I was a bit worried you would refuse,” he said, “I hadn’t realised that you were afraid of heights or I wouldn’t have booked this.” 

“I’m happy you did,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze, “Where to now?” 

“Well, now we are going to the Vatican Grottos,” he said, “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you teased as he led you back to the doorway into the dome. The narrow path didn’t feel so scary since you had made it across the first time. This time around you walked a little slower, not from fear but just to take in all the wonderful works of art around you. The mosaics and statues that were mounted to the walls of the dome were spectacular. 

You climbed the three hundred and twenty steps back down to the lift and closed your eyes for the descent. Once you were back on the solid ground you let out a sigh of relief. The experience was wonderful but not something you were likely to do again for a while. 

Jake led the way towards the first Grotto of the day, the Clementine Chapel or the Chapel of Saint Peter. It was breathtaking and your tour guide made the facts he was sharing interesting. The chest in the Grotto protects the sepulchre of Peter the Apostle and it is the only part of the cathedral that maintains its original purpose and function. People make their way there every year to pay their respects. 

The tour guide then led you into the tomb of John Paul the second. Your tour guide informed you that of all the tombs you would see today, this was the most extravagant. The man was buried in a cypress coffin, then inside a zinc casket, then placed inside another casket which was nailed shut with pure gold nails. You and Jake shared a look, while you loved being Catholic, sometimes the popes were a bit dramatic.

Next was the Chapel of the Madonna of Bocciata. The guide informed you that it is one of the oldest areas on the grounds, commissioned in fifteen eighty. The chapel itself looked like it was six hundred years old, and you were careful where you stepped, not wanting to knock anything over. Jake wrapped his arm around you as you looked around, allowing you to lean into him. The long walks of the past days were wreaking havoc on your feet, and your caring husband was more than happy to try and help you relax. 

After the Chapel of the Madonna of Bocciata was the Icon of the Madonna Dolorosa where a large depiction of the Holy Madonna is painted on one whole wall of the room. You walked up to the ropes separating you from her and gazed in awe. The painting was taller than you, and it was in great shape, they didn’t know exactly how old she was but if you had to guess, several hundred years. 

The rest of the tour went fairly quickly, with your tour guide leaving you at the archeological rooms. You browsed through the parts of the original church that had been destroyed centuries ago before Jake took your hand and led you through the rest of the tour. There were a few statues of a pope and Saint Peter before you entered the Peribolos. There were two sections and while one was in pristine condition, the other was falling apart. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jake said, looking around the ruins, “Can you imagine building something that could last this long.” 

“No, it’s amazing,” you said, your neck craning to see the ceiling. Tiny tiles went all the way up the walls, depicting holy images across the expanse of the ceiling of the Peribolos. 

When you had both had your fill of the Vatican Grottos, your stomachs were begging for food. Walking past the Vatican gardens you looked back sadly, hopefully you would be able to see them before your time in Rome was over. 

You and Jake sat down to a traditional Italian dinner, served family style in the restaurant. It was easily the best fettuccine alfredo you had ever had, even though Jake insisted that yours was better. 

The sun was dipping low on the horizon when you exited the restaurant, “Do you think we have time to walk through the gardens?” you asked, your head resting against Jake’s arm. 

“I was hoping so,” he said, you could feel him shift to look down at you, “Do you want to?”

You nodded your head, giving him a quiet, “Yes.”

He squeezed your hand once before walking leisurely back to Saint Peter’s Square and to the entrance for the Vatican gardens. 

----

You walked around the Vatican gardens, the audio guide’s headphones squeezing your head a little uncomfortably as you passed Saint John’s tower. 

“ -- Today, this tower is mainly used for papal apartments. It was also the site for important meetings over the years, including Pope Benedict XVI’s meeting with the US president George Bush in 2008,” the voice inside your ears announced. The woman had been a good companion for the past two hours, explaining things in a clear and interesting manner, and yet you couldn’t concentrate on a thing she said.

You removed the headphones, letting them hang around your neck as you massage your temples to alleviate the headache that had sprung up in the last minute. Jake looked at you with an eyebrow raised asking a silent ‘are you okay’ you replied with a nod, not quite ready to give up on the tour. You passed by the fountain of the eagle without much issue but as you arrived at the Lourdes Grotto, you started to feel a little light headed with pain.

“How about we take a break,” Jake suggested, grabbing your wrist and leading you to a lonely plastic chair, left to stand by itself onto the concrete floor, “Do you want anything to drink?” he asked, quickly swinging the backpack off of his back and unzipping it to fish out a water bottle. 

Come to think of it, you had done a terrible job staying hydrated, too lost in the excitement of the day to remember to drink anything other than a cup of coffee. You gratefully accepted the water bottle and took a large swig. Resting the bottle on your knee, you took in the view.

The grotto was a copy, you had learned that much from your school’s brief venture into teaching religion. The original was located in France, somewhere near the Spanish border, if you remembered correctly, the site of which had been where a young girl saw a vision of the Madonna, the Virgin Mary. 

“It’s a copy you know?” you asked Jake, he glanced towards the grotto, shaking his head, “No I didn’t. Where’s the original?” 

“France, Lourdes I think,” you said quietly, losing yourself in your thoughts. 

Jake looked at you for a moment before asking, “What are you thinking?”

“Just about Mary. You know she’s my confirmation saint,” you said quietly. 

“Yes, I do know that,” Jake said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Well I had a specific reason for picking her, I’m sure like you did for Saint Christopher,” you said, “I just always thought of her as the perfect mother you know? She’s really a mother to all of us, and with how my mom treated me, I don’t know, I just wanted someone better to look up to.” 

Jake nodded, rubbing your arms, “Do you want to go to Lourdes? To see the real grotto?”

“We could do that?” you asked, excitement making your stomach clench at the idea you might get to see her real grotto. 

“I could add a day to the trip, or maybe I can cancel one day and do that?” Jake asked, looking at you for permission. 

“I don’t want to ruin our plans, I know you worked hard on them,” you said, not quite meeting his eyes. 

“Princess, if that’s what you want then that’s what we will do, I just want to make you happy,” he replied, nudging your chin with his knuckle to get you to look at him. 

You smiled widely, “Alright, can you do it?”

“I will make it happen, darlin’,” he said, pulling you into a hug, him squatting down in front of the chair you were sitting in. 

“Thank you, for being so wonderful to me,” you said, your eyes tearing up a little at the thought that this wonderful man was changing plans on the trip he had made possible just for you. 

“You are wonderful to me, I’ve got to make it up to you somehow,” he said softly, squeezing you a little tighter. 

When he pulled away, you dabbed at your eyes with your finger, trying to keep the tears at bay. Jake’s face filled with concern before you reassured him, “I’m alright, I’ve just never had someone take such good care of me.” 

He pulled you up from your seat and into a full body hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “It’s my job, and I love it,” he said, pulling you a little tighter, “Are you ready?” he asked. You pulled away from him, noticing that it was becoming dark. 

“Yes, let’s go back to the hotel,” you replied, taking his hand and leading him from the gardens, a smile on your face that only he could put there. 

[unilateralis]

LAST commission update for those who have commissioned me! info under the cut, leading with a tl;dr 🫶

the TL;DR: expect me to send you your commission (for grayscale comms) or reach out about your commission between now and september 15!

hi all! once again i’d like to thank everyone for the tremendous amount of patience as life throws me curveball after curveball. for the past few months i have been dealing with a detrimentally hostile work environment, which has thrown my commission progress. while i have some finished commissions sitting around that just haven’t been sent off yet, i am officially sending off commissions between now and early to mid september. because of my unfortunate (and frustrating) work situation, i cannot offer reimbursement at this time (i legit haven’t had enough money to feed myself)

after i finish my current queue, i will likely not be opening commissions again for the foreseeable future to avoid a repeat of this very annoyingly lengthy process (trust you me, if it’s frustrated you it’s been frustrating me even more.)

if i do commissions again, it will have to be if someone were to privately reach out to me or in “first come first serve” system batches of three, should i want to publicly open commissions again. because i still have a wrist injury, and it takes me longer to do even what i consider my more “basic” work, prices would likely be raised slightly. but take all this information with a grain of salt, because i don’t know if i will take on commissions again anytime soon after this!

that being said, anything that is done to support me and my art never goes unnoticed, unappreciated, or taken for granted. i’ve received many kind words, so much understanding, and a shit ton of grace. so, genuinely, thank you all!

[intheticklecloset]

commissions open (+general life update)

This is a bit more rushed than I wanted it to be, but life decided to throw everything at me at once so I'm a little backed into a corner. Anyway, TLDR: I'm taking commissions again! There's no slot limit this time (unless y'all get crazy on me lol), but there are restrictions, so please read my updated commissions info page carefully before requesting. I'll try to put something a little prettier together when I have a minute to breathe. Also since paypal screwed me over I've had to move to Cash App. More info if you follow the link.

In addition, coffee shot requests are still open (and free!) so definitely feel free to send those in as well. It just may take me a bit to get to them. I'm scrambling a little, but I'll get caught up one day!

For those who wanna know all the things:

The good news is, I've finished moving into my new place! The bad news is, my car started acting up right as I was getting everything finalized, so all of my savings has gone into 1) paying double rent to give myself the month to get out of the old place and 2) paying for this expensive car repair (and that's only the first half of it - I have more to do next month).

I'm excited to be in this new environment that is a significant improvement over the old one (it's a lot quieter here so I'm able to hunker down and focus on writing a lot more, as well as being able to finally start getting caught up on all this anime I've fallen behind on), though I admit I have been very overwhelmed by the amount of things that I have but don't need anymore, so I've now got to start the process of unpacking/sorting through/donating things. Also I'm still working full time and have not had much time to myself due to all the chaos. And, as I mentioned, I've depleting my savings making this big life change.

Good news number two is my workplace underwent a management change due to so many people wanting to quit under our old boss, so we have a new one and they're a LOT better! So at least I'm not having to stress about that at this time anymore.

Overall I'd say things are definitely looking up, so I'm feeling good about life except for my financial situation. And on that note, I appreciate all the help I can get, but please don't feel pressured. This is my mess and I'll get myself out of it somehow. But I've been wanting to get back into writing regularly here again for a while, and thinking about opening commissions even before all of this went down in the last couple of weeks. I'll continue to share with everyone, regardless of if you're supporting me financially or not. I have a couple of fics already written that I plan to share soon, so you'll not be without content even if I don't get comms. Your moral support is just as needed and appreciated, trust me. <3

I think that's all I've got for now. Thank you again for all of your support, patience, kind messages, and general care/interest about my life outside of the writing. You're the reason I decided to stick around, so thank you. <3