#what am i doing? sitting on my bed in the pants i just finished sewing (FINALLY) and patting myself on the back for my writing lol

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Me: Damn I really wish I’d written more this year, I feel like I barely did any of the projects I wanted to

My AO3 wordcount for 2022*: 255,894 (spread across 34 fics)

[*This is not including the chapters I’ve added to Plans To Make or You Are Of Their Ilk this year since I started them last year and I don’t feel like going back to count the words of the individual chapters from 2022, nor does it include the projects currently in progress in my wip folder]

[[I really like my stats page and I scroll through it for funsies all the time so I’ll be doing a post breaking down what I wrote in 2022 and including some fun (for me anyway lol) stats, so stay tuned for that if you like that kind of thing]]

[inthenameofallthingsholy]

Devils Roll The Dice, Angels Roll Their Eyes

Song: Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift

Requested by @dinonuggiesforliferz

Fandom: Daredevil

Ship: Matt Murdock x Reader

On AO3 this is multichapter so here is the link to read it in that format:

————————————————

June 6th, 4:59 pm

Hell’s Kitchen in the summer is a sweltering box of heat and the small office of Nelson and Murdock has no air conditioning.

You sit at the folding table you call  a desk, sweating your ass off and trying to do paperwork. You glance over at the clock and see it is finally 5:00. 

Matt exits his office first, noticing you immediately packing up your purse and putting your heels back on.

“Eager to leave, are you?” His voice startled you at first, but you eased up and chuckled once you realized who spoke.

“Very eager.” You playfully reply as you sling your purse on your shoulder.

“Sorry we’re not the best company.” Matt chuckles. His tie is loose and his suit jacket has vanished due to the heat. His white button down sleeves are rolled up to his elbow and he has a few drops of sweat on his forehead. 

“Trust me Matt Murdock, you are plenty company. But, I have my last essay of the year due tomorrow and my professor will KILL ME if I don’t turn it in on time.”

“3rd year at law school- definitely do not miss that” Foggy emerges from his office drenched in sweat with two ice packs taped to his face. You giggle and explain how Foggy looks to Matt who chuckles accordingly.

“You’re just jealous cause y’all are hotter than Jason Momoa’s biceps!” 

“Awww you think I’m hot” you tease, nearing the door slowly.

“Anyone would.” You stop only for a second when you hear Matt utter so low it’s almost a whisper. 

“Welp! I’m hitting the road. Bye losers!” You wave goodbye whilst walking through the door.

“Bye!” Foggy yells behind you

“Later, Fordham.” You hear Matt call after. He gave you this “affectionate” nickname after finding out what Law school you go to. You haven’t heard him say your real name since then.

————————————————

June 7th, 12:03 am

You’re sitting on your bed, laptop open, mind boggled. You just barely finished your essay and you’re fairly certain it’s the worst thing you’ve ever written in your entire educational career. 

Welp, it’ll have to do you guess. You get up to make some late-night french toast. 

You take out the frying pan and all the ingredients. That’s when you hear a noise coming from your bedroom. I probably just imagined it you think. But then you hear it again

Picking up the frying pan, you slowly approach your bedroom. “Who’s there?” you ask, holding the frying pan above your head.

You turn the corner to see a bloody and bruised man standing in a black shirt, black pants, and a black scarf tied around his head. 

You scream. The stranger jumps “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE”

“…a friend..Fordham…” The stranger groans out. You instantly recognize the voice. “Matt!? What the hell!? What are you wearing!? Why are you beat up!? What is going on!?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me…” He croaks as he flops on the bed. 

“Jesus, you need medical attention and now! I’ll call a hospital-“

“No!” Matt chokes. “It’s not safe enough.” 

“Well fuck Matt how the hell am I supposed to-“

“You took nursing classes in college right?” He asks, strained breaths between each word.

“Not good ones and how do you even remember that!?” 

“If you can do basic nursing, you can help me…Please.” 

You get him patched up and somewhat well treated as he explains the situation.

“That’s a lot to carry on you’re shoulders, Matt. You need a day off for once, maybe tomorrow so you can recover from whatever happened tonight.” You advise as you sew up a cut on his back.

“I can’t take a day off. If I take a day off, people get hurt.” He winces through the sentence as you pull the needle.

“…why did you come to me? I am far from a qualified nurse.” You gently touch the stitch you just finished before backing away.

“I was just running on pure adrenaline and the first thing my brain thought was, well, you. 

You feel some blood rush to your cheeks as he says the last word, but you contain your reaction quite well.

“Ok, you can take the bed, i’ll take the sofa. That cool?” You stand up and walk towards the couch to prepare it for yourself.

“I’m sorry I did this, really. Did you finish your essay at least, before I got here?” He put on his shirt as he spoke

“God Matt you are the only person who could spend the night getting beaten to shreds and still have the compassion to ask me if I finished my essay.” You grab a pillow from the bed and put it on the couch. 

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t ask everyone.” 

You elect to ignore that comment and throw him some pajama pants and a T-shirt. “My ex’s, thought it’d be better to sleep in that than your shitty excuse for body armor.”

You turn your back as he changes. 

“Thank you. I mean it.” He sounds the most sincere you think you’ve ever heard him.

“Whatever, you owe me one, Murdock.” 

“Anything you ask, Fordham.”

————————————————

June 29th, 11:55 pm.

That routine continues throughout the month. Every few days Matt shows up in your apartment with something bloody, bruised, or broken for you to fix him up and have a room to sleep in. 

It has become such a routine that you’ve thought to leave the window open most nights. Sometimes you just sit there waiting to see him out the window climbing up your fire escape, wounded. 

But today was different…

You’re watching tv when you hear the noise and immediately rush to the window to help him in. After getting him stitched up you start to move the pillows over when he tells you to wait.

“What if you… didn’t sleep on the couch tonight?” He questioned, walking closer to you.

“You shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch, you’re legs won’t be able to move tomorrow you’ll be so uncomfortable-“

He interrupts you. “That’s not what I meant.” 

You then notice how close he is. Your faces were so close you could feel his breath on your face, and you were sure he could feel yours on his neck. 

“What do you mean..” you slowly ask, knowing the answer and wanting it willingly.

He seems to read your mind as he glides his hand up your arm and to your neck. Your spine shivers with electricity. He pulls you closer and you gasp slightly at the feel of his body on yours. 

Only then does he pull you into the kiss, his other hand entering your hair as you grab the back of his neck. He backs you up as you two desperately search for the bed, taking small breaths between big kisses. You find the door handle and slam your bedroom door behind you, closing off the outside world from what’s about to happen.

The last thing you think before you get lost in it is 

I guess we have a new step in the routine

————————————————

July 15th, 8:12 pm

“Oh come on, we all know i’m gonna win this!” Foggy exclaims

“You are so not!” You and Matt say at practically the same time.

“Well you two sure as hell aren’t! I am the king of the chutes and the ladders!”

The three of you were sat around your folding table  desk, with the chutes and ladders board lay flat on the table.

“May I remind you that we are on the same space.” Matt turns to you “Right?” 

“Right.” You respond. They are both 6 spaces from the end. You’ve been far behind the two of them for a while ever since you hit the big chute in the middle of the board.

“Nooooo she’s lyinggggg you hit a chute two turns ago and you’re back at the beginnninggg” Foggy lies

You laugh as Matt replies “See why don’t I believe you! I’ll trust her over you any day.” 

“Betrayal! Of my partner in law! Does the firm we built together mean nothing to you!” Foggy dramatically flailed his arms, nearly flipping the whole board over.

“Alright Matt just roll so we can all go the fuck home!” You chuckle.

“Alright! Matty needs a new stapler for his desk!” You roll your eyes as Matt presses a button on his phone. The robotic voice reveals “Six.”

The three of you erupt in screams and laughter.

“WHAT ARE THE ODDS!?”Screams Foggy

You’re laughing so hard you think you might choke to death. “Alright, i’m gonna go get a drink from the vending machines, I’ll be right back, you boys be nice!” 

“No promises!” Foggy calls as you leave the office. 

You walk down the stairs to the vending machine and start trying to decide what you want when you notice Matt walking up next to you. 

You knew this would happen eventually. You’d have to talk about the fact you’ve been sleeping together for nearly a month and how that’s gonna affect the two of you. You just really didn’t want to have that talk tonight.

“Hey..” he started, hands hiding in his pockets. 

“Hello.” You continue the conversation, refusing to look at anything other than the drinks, but not really looking at them at all.

“We need to talk about it.” He sighs, hanging his head low. The light from the vending machine shines on his red sunglasses. 

“I assumed we would eventually.” You keep pretending to look at the same sprite and coke can.

“We can’t be together. At least not publicly, or an actual relationship. If a bad person found out who I am and they found out I had a girlfriend, they would go through her to get to me.” 

“I know the superhero spiel, Murdock, I read Batman comics growing up, remember?” Sprite Can, Coke Can, Sprite Can, Coke Can.

“How could I forget.” You wonder if he actually did. He seems to never forget anything about you.

“It’s cool, ok. If you just wanna keep it at crazy sex after a stitch up, that’s all it has to be.” Sprite, Coke, Sprite, Coke, Sprite, Coke. 

“Alright, cool, glad we’re on the same page.” You most definitely are not on the same page, but you aren’t gonna tell him that. Might as well have him like this than not have him at all. And it’s not as if you’re in love with him or anything. Right?

“Sooooo, are you gonna get a drink orrrr.” He breaks you out of your trance. Shit. You still haven’t bought a drink. 

“Course..” Sprite it is then. You pay for the drink and walk back up to the office with Matt, taking awkward sips of your drink the whole way. 

You see Foggy pack up the game and grab his satchel to go. “God you two took forever. Anyway, I’m heading home. Hey Matt, you shouldn’t walk home alone this time of night, could be dangerous.” 

You stifle a chuckle. 

“I’ll be fine, Foggy. You have a car, right, Fordham?” 

You choke on your drink. “What?” 

“Well I just thought that you could drive me home since you can drive and I ya know, can’t.” He smiles at you. He knows you can’t say no.

“Yah, sure, i’ll uh…get my keys.”

————————————————

You get in the car and both of you notice the uncomfortable silence is just a tad too thick while driving.

So, you decide to start off the conversation. “Why are we doing this?” Not a strong start.

“What do you mean?” Matt pretends to be clueless.

“I mean, why am I driving you home tonight.”

“You heard Foggy. It’s not safe for me to walk alone.”

“Yeah and we both know that’s bullshit and that he would’ve let you go alone if you had just insisted you would be fine, so why are we doing this?”

“Our last conversation ended somewhat awkwardly. I wanted to fix that.” 

“And this was the best way you could think to do that? Now you have pretend to go home before patrolling. If anything you’ve inconvenienced both of us in one fell swoop.” 

“You seem upset, let’s talk about this when I get home from patrols.”

“I’m not upset, i’m confused and slightly frustrated. I mean, we agreed that we wouldn’t be a couple and that seemed fine but God, Matt, do you hear yourself? We don’t live together and that isn’t our home, it’s my home. Got that?”

“Of course I know that! Do you know that?” 

You gape at him with awe and offense. You pull the car over in front of a random building to regroup.

At first it’s silent. Then Matt speaks up

“I’m sorry. I just need to keep you safe.” 

“I know” you reply “I just think we should-“ You don’t finish. The look on Matt’s face tells you he hears something, and it probably isn’t good. 

“What is it Matt?” His mannerisms turn frantic. 

“Cut the headlights. Cut the headlights now!” He goes back to listening mode again.

“Get down!” The last thing you see before Matt ducks you down is 5 guys exit the building with guns and masks over their faces they shoot the windshield a few times and then run off in the other direction.

“Fuck!” You realize you’re gonna need to pay for that and the price will not be pretty. You glance over at Matt who’s already got his tie and jacket off and is midway through ripping off his button down to reveal the black shirt.

You reach back behind your seat and grab the scarf you left in the car in January and hand it to him. He ties it around his eyes. 

“Don’t suppose you have extra pants in here” he asks

“Not unless you fit women’s yoga pants.” 

He exits the car quickly and says one thing before running off. 

“Get the hell out of here and fast, get back to your apartment. I’ll be there after I deal with this, granted i’m still alive.”

“Don’t say that, you will be.”

He kisses you on the cheek before he closes the door and runs off.

You turn on the car and drive off in the opposite direction, towards your apartment.

————————————————

The waiting for him to arrive is gruesome. Every hour or so the thought enters your head. 

He’s gone. It’s too late. He won’t be back

Hearing the sound from the bedroom is like music to your ears. You help him stumble in, but you can tell he’s more damaged than you’ve ever treated him for before. 

“Jesus, Matt this is really bad” 

“I’ve been in worse shape…”

You sew a bit of the cut on his leg.

“I mean this is cut to the bone, Matt! You are so lucky I have been researching how to do this better because otherwise you would be totally screwed.”

You hear him chuckle at the word screwed. You roll your eyes at him. 

“As i was saying in the car before all the shooty shooty happened, we should have some ground rules.”

Matt is quiet for a moment before responding “I have a better idea. No rules at all.” 

You think that proposition over while finishing the stitch in his leg. “Maybe just one rule.”

Matt shows he’s listening.

“No falling in love.”

Once again Matt is quiet for a moment, and replies with. 

“Sounds good to be.”

You both sit in a tad bit of silence before he continues.

“Can I kiss you now?” 

You laugh before grabbing his face into a kiss that just like every time before, leads to more

————————————————

August 1st, 12:29 am

You hear the noise come from the window like you have almost every night since June. 

You grab your first aid kit and walk over to your bedroom. 

“Hey Matt, sorry I wasn’t at the window immediately, I was feeding the cat-“

That is not Matt Murdock. The blonde man standing in front of you is staring straight at you. No mask, no blind focus, just a stranger in your home that has taken the place of Matt. 

“Who are you….” Where was a frying pan when a girl needed one. 

“I’m a friend of your little boyfriend… the man in the mask. Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.” He speaks with a thick New York Accent and smells so heavily of cigarettes that you think you’re gonna throw up.

“The Devil usually comes alone. So I ask you again, who are you and why are you in my house.” 

“Well ya see, you’re little boyfriend beat up my guys a few weeks ago, and we found him crawlin back here, to you. So! We need you to send a message to him for us. Tell him if he ever comes at my guys again, you’re pretty little face is gonna be pounded into the pavement. Got that.”

You’re too scared to speak, so you simply nod. 

“But we can’t just leave you in perfect condition like this, then he know we don’t mean business. So come here and gimme your leg.”

————————————————

August 1st, 1:30 am

You’re able to stop the bleeding by the time you hear the window again. This time, you don’t go near it. You stay on your couch and wait for whoever it is to speak.

“Fordham?” Thank God, it’s Matt. 

“Matt!” You try to run towards him but instead fall due to the pain of your cut. 

“Jesus, Fordham!” He runs out of the bedroom and finds you on the floor of your living room, tears streaming. 

“What happened, who did this to you..” Matt sounds mad, his voice resembling the growl of a bear. 

“The boss of those men.. from last month… wanted me to tell you that if you crossed them again they would.. kill me.”

Matt is seething now. He scoops you up and brings you to your bed, grabbing bandages from the first aid kit on the way. 

He says nothing as he wraps your leg. A temporary solution to be solved after he defeats the people that did this. He even says nothing when he’s done, simply kissing you on the forehead before leaving through the window

“Matt, wait!” You yell but he’s already gone. It isn’t long after that you fall asleep

——————————————

August 1st, 8:05 am

You wake up slowly, noticing Matt sitting in a chair in the corner. He’s bloody and bruised again, though you suspect most of the blood isn’t his.

You sit up to help his wounds but he gestures to not move. “I’m fine, it’s you that we need to worry about.” 

“What do you mean?”  You look down at your leg again. It looks way worse than it did yesterday. Actually, earlier today.

“It’s not just a cut, he also dislocated your knee. I can set it but I didn’t want to without you being awake. It also probably won’t be completely healed for another month or so.” 

You pause for a moment. “Do it.” 

You feel a pain when he snaps your knee back into place, but it feel better after it’s over.

“Thank you, Matt.”

“Listen, Fordham, we need to talk.” His voice sounds serious and sad. You look up and notice despite still being with you, his mask is still on, meaning he does not want you to see his eyes for this chat.

“What is it?” You shift to sit up straight on your back.

“We can’t do this anymore. This proves that what we’re doing is unsafe and I can’t risk your life.” 

You feel your heart split in two. You know he can hear your heart rate so you wonder if he can hear it too. You can’t lose him, not now, not ever. 

“No…no I can learn self defense! I can get a gun! You can teach me how to fight! We don’t have to stop!” You plead as you desperately wish you could see Matt’s eyes. 

“People like them are gonna keep coming Fordham, can’t you see I’m trying to protect you!?” 

The raising of his voice makes you freeze. 

“I’m sorry… I would just rather not have you like that than not have you at all.” You know your crying you just don’t care. You watch him approach the window to leave.

“See you at work, Fordham.” 

He exits the window for what you think is the last time. You start to cry harder and harder and harder.

Fuck, you think, i broke my own rule.

I fell in love.

——————————————

August 25th, 9:30 pm

You‘re in your apartment, waiting for the noise, and knowing it’ll never come. In the past few weeks your mental state has been in the gutter, and pain in your knee is not helping. Only one more week and it’ll be fully healed, so you can do basic tasks with it like walk from room to room. 

You know what you need. You need to go down to Josies and just get completely wasted.

And that’s what you plan to do.

————————————————

A few hours later and yeah, completely wasted. You wonder if anyone’s concerned but you’re too out of it to even care. 

“AND THEN… Matt SAVED ME but then he left me and i was really really really really really really REAAALLLY SAD.” You slur your tale of woe to Josie you think is invested in every word you’re saying

“Ok hun, I gotta make a call.” 

“Oki Doki Josie! HAHA that rhymed!” You nearly fall out of your seat. 

You see Josie turn around and dial a number you almost recognize in your drunken state. You then get too distracted by your own hand to pay attention.

About 30 minutes of going on and on drunkenly to Josie, you see a man in a black shirt, black pants, and red glasses. Oh fuck

“Oh good ya here, Matt, she’s been goin off about you bein a supahero all night long. Ya need to take her home.” Josie advises Matt.

“Will do, Josie.” He helps you out of the chair. “Here ya go, come with me.” 

You protest fervently “Noooooo! I wanna stay!” You start to run away but you feel him scoop you up and walk with you. 

You then get placed into the back of a cab, with Matt shuffling in next to you. 

That’s when you start to cry like a baby. “Noooo I don’t wanna go home! Josie and I were having fun!” 

“You and Josie weren’t having as much fun as you though, Fordham, seeing as she called me to get you out of there.” 

“Well why do you care, aren’t you supposed to be on…petrols right now?”

“Its PA-trols, Fordham, and I’m taking a day off” 

“Nuh uh uh! Youuuuu said you don’t take days off! Someone could get hurt you said.” 

“Yeah and you would’ve gotten hurt if I hadn’t taken a day off.” 

“I’m literally fiiiiiiine!” That isn’t true but at least you can still lie in this state. 

The car ride is filled with tears and whining until you fall asleep on Matt’s shoulder. You woke up for a split second to catch a glimpse of him kissing your forehead and jumping out your bedroom window to go fight crime. 

————————————————-

August 28th, 10:40 pm

The few days after the drunken incident are completely Matt free. At least, Matt isn’t in the room, but he’s still in your mind.

You’re cooking yourself pasta one night when you hear to noise. You haven’t heard it since the night you hurt your knee. 

You turn off the burner and grab the frying pan, just in case. Once you make your way into the bedroom however, you notice that nobody is in the room and on the windowsill is just a little note.

Fordham, meet me at the garden outside of your building.

MM

This could be a trap, but you doubt any bad guys know The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’s initials or that he calls you the name of your school, so you decide to take the chance.

————————————————

Sneaking in through the garden gate, you see Matt sitting on a bench surrounded by two pillars covered in Mandevilla.  

“How did you know about this place, I’ve never been here before.” You ask Matt.

“I would smell the Mandevilla on my way to your apartment. Reminds me of you.” He smiles in your general direction. He knows your kryptonite too well.

“What do you want, Matt? I’m not gonna stand here discussing flowers with you. Do you have a point or no?” You cross your arms and impatiently tap your foot.

“You know you haven’t shown up to work in 3 days. I can legally fire you ya know.” He smirks at you. Fuck.

“Well after the disaster-fest that was the bar incident I thought it would be best if I made some distance.” You uncross your arms and stuff your hands in your pockets. It is now coming to your attention you came here wearing sweatpants. 

“I miss you Fordham.” 

You’re taken aback. “What?”

“I miss being with you! And I don’t want to risk your life but it’s killing me to not be with you so I was hoping, with your consent, we could go back to just one rule and see what happens.” He almost looks desperate

“No.” You respond quick. He doesn’t seem shocked. 

“I understand. That night you hurt your knee was horrible, i get that you don’t want to get hurt again-“

“No.” You say again, more firmly. “You don’t understand, I hate the rule. I hate the way things were. I went with it because I thought it was the only way we can exist but now I figured it out. I’m tired of keeping secrets to be with you. And you got one thing right, that night was horrible because that was the night you left, and the night I realized that Goddammit Matt Murdock I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!” 

You scream the last part with all the weight in your chest. It’s quiet for a moment before you continue.

“Ain’t that just the worst thing you’ve ever heard.”

You see Matt look up at your general area. He’s grinning like the devil that he is. He stands up and walks towards you, and you know what’s about to happen, and you want it so bad.

Just like the first kiss that hot night in July, this kiss is soft and sweet at first but delves into a passionate act of love. And just like the first kiss, it leads to more. Right there on the garden bench, sealing your fates. 

It’s beautiful and explosive and loving and you know that tomorrow you’ll have to actually lay down the ground rules of this relationship, but for now the two of you just lay there, enjoying each other’s company on the garden bench.

“So.. i take it you love me too?” You ask, out of breath.

Matt laughs “Fordham, I love you so much I can’t even describe it.” 

You snuggle in closer “Perfect.” 

[whatthehelltony]

could be doing anything else right now but I’m sitting in bed with all the windows open writing text post for tumblr and freezing my ass off. My pants are too big for me and it’s making me so mad and I want to make something but idk what and it’s so messy in here and I need to clean and I feel sick so maybe i should close the windows and maybe I should eat something other than sugar and caffeine and maybe I should make lunch but it’s too late so I’ll just wait til dinner cause everyone knows calories don’t count after dark which is maybe my problem and my throat hurts and I’m cold and I want to talk to someone but instead I’m here rambling to no one and I hope that I remember to delete this before anyone I know sees it but I probably won’t and I feel like I’m wasting time but I can’t stop and I just want to do something but idk what I and I just want to build something but it seems like maybe right now I have to do nothing because the only other thing I can do is destroy and talk to much and maybe I should sleep well tonight but I’ve already decided I won’t until my giant painting has a sky and I know that i cannot move the dresser til after dark and I need to hide my energy drinks cause people are coming over and might want to sit on the closet couch and I also need to move my sewing stuff and the dress I started and of course never finished because if I don’t do it all at once it won’t get done like the book my girlfriend gave me that I had to force myself to read in one sitting cause i knew I wouldn’t otherwise and why is it is a struggle to do things I want to do and why can’t I type and the music is too loud in my earbuds but it needs to be loud and I can’t type and I feel like I’m going deaf and maybe I’m going blind cause my eyes are always blurry now and maybe I should drink some water cause otherwise I’m gonna die at practice and maybe I should eat something but I ate a cookie at midnight last night and my mom isn’t home to tell me to eat and why am I complaining cause I eat dinner and I eat and I don’t have a problem and I’m itching but I know the thing that will make it stop will be too obvious and the last thing I want is for people to know anything and I wanna go home but I’m sitting in bed with the windows open and I am home and it’s cold but the sun is shining and my heart is beating too fast and maybe it’s the caffeine or the adrenaline from talking too much or maybe it’s my heart and I’m going to die and maybe I should close the window and put a period in my writing so that people can actually read it but maybe I’m making it unreadable in purpose so that no one reads it and maybe I could not post this but we both know I have to because I can’t text my girlfriend and even if I could I know I wouldn’t say anything cause she’s got it way worse and I’m actually good so idk what I’m doing here and why I’m typing and there’s a notes app for a reason but it just isn’t the same and I need to stop and I need to put a period somewhere but it’s too bright and my eyes are blurry but I won’t sleep til tomorrow and I need to shut up but my head hurts and maybe this will make it feel better but now I have to go because people are coming over and I need to clean and I keep forgetting things and maybe I’m crazy but people who are actually crazy don’t think they’re crazy so im ok and I won’t put a period because fuck

[pbandjesse]

I really thought I was doing better but I feel so bad right now. I might have pushed myself just a little bit to hard. But I wanted to accomplish as much as possible for our move. And right now I am laying in our bed in our new house. And even though I feel very bad it is emotionally a really amazing feeling.

I wrote my post really early last night. Like I am now. Because I desperately wanted to rest. But I wouldn't actually fall asleep for a long long time. I tried taking a hot bath but it didn't make me feel much better. I was going through it.

When I woke up this morning I was hurting really bad. I woke up around 7 with a weak cough and so much fatigue.

James was already packing up the car. The plan was for me to take the Subaru and then James would bike to get the uhaul. I would take a while to get up. But I was doing okay this morning. Like I didn't feel amazing but I was doing okay enough.

And we got a ton done. Despite my weakness.

When I got to the house I had to park on the opposite side because of street sweeping. They do it 4 days of the week on this block because it's a cross street to two one ways I guess. But I had much to carry so I was a little worried.

I ended up only being able to carry half of the stuff over. With the last box I grabbed I almost threw up. It was scary. I was not feeling good at all.

But I tried to hold it together. And I unpacked the food for the fridge and freezer and put some stuff away. And soon enough James was coming with the uhaul and our bed.

They didn't just bring the bed though. They also brought all their drawers from their dresser. And a few odds and ends. I had them park in the back of the house which is convenient but also there is a grassy area that is basically a dog poop mine feild. Thankfully we scoped them out and did not track dog poop in our new house.

We had a pretty good system going. And once all the pieces of the bed were in I worked on putting that together while James got the last few things from the car that I couldn't pick up.

I would get a little frustrated with part of the bed and then James trying to tell me what to do. But we got the bed together and it actually is smaller then the tape measurements I put down so we have a couple extra inches at the end. I'm very pleased.

We would wait to put the bed down until we got the vacuum and James would do that later on. In the mean time we would head back to the apartment to pack clothes. I also just cleared off my one studio shelf but I was not able to help James so we had to leave them for now. With almost all of James's friends moved away or working on Mondays, we might have to just hire a mover or two. We will see what the next week brings.

I left to go back to the house while James kept moving things. Sweetp was incredibly stressed and would throw up. Which made me feel so bad. James would make sure he was settled before they headed back to me.

Once I got everything out of the car I had to sit down. I was not doing good. I was nauseous and dizzy and weak. Wheezing. I thought maybe eating would help and we had once last Mac and cheese cup in the fridge. I would microwave that while I put the clothes we brought over away.

I sat in the living room and felt freezing all of a sudden. I got a blanket and that helped but I was just doing really bad. When James got back I could barely help at all. One of the bookshelves they brought broke apart into all of its original pieces. I wasnt able to even direct where things were going to go I was doing so bad.

Dad called me and we talked for a few minutes. He teased me about not finishing his pants yet but I promise I will. I just haven't been here and with moving. But that made me want to make sure I get my sewing table set up and ready today.

So once I had a little energy that's what I focused on. James would put the mattress in. And we made the bed once we remembered where we stored the sheets. I would also put all of our bathroom products in their new spots. The space is really coming together.

James would go return the uhaul. And that gave me an hour alone.

While they were gone I worked on the studio. And got things put more where I had imagined them. I had to take a lot of water breaks. But I made progress. And when James got back at 230 I was ready to go to my rhumatologist appointment.

Sometimes when I go to my appointment it takes 15 minutes. Sometimes it takes almost an hour and a half. Today was an hour and a half kind of day.

Firstly I signed in on the wrong sheet. But it all worked out. They were really excited to hear about me and James moving into a new house. And wanted to know the whole story. I wasn't feeling amazing but I tried to put on a happy face and keep it together.

Swallowing became really tough and very very uncomfortable. I would smile through it best I could but I know I was grimacing something fierce.

The phlebotomist also is in the process of buying a house and it was fun to commiserate with her. She also loves the habit for humanity stores. Amazing.

Blood work went well. Injections went well. The sun always beats on that side of the building so we had to move me around to get out of the sun so he could see where my veins were. The last thing I need is this medication blowing out my vein.

But Sincere, the name of the medical assistant who does my injections, did a very good job this time and we talked about tattoos and he is very nice. And while the whole appointment took almost an hour and a half it wasn't unpleasant.

James had waited for me in the car. They got me a donut and a little cheesecake for later. Love them so much.

My spirits were higher but I felt very bad still. It was time to go get Sweetp. And I was nervous. But ready.

First thing I did was shove him in his box. He was not happy with me and it was very unpleasant. But I got him in so we could go pack more stuff in the car and bring him down last.

And that worked out well. I got a lot of stuff in totesbags again and James got all my little suitcases. They would come back for their plants later. But for now we had to get the crying kitty to our new home.

It was not a bad drive and as soon as we got in I brought sweept upstairs to our room and closed the door. Let him get used to this room first. And I think that was a good plan. James brought in everything else. I tried to just take a breather.

But eventually once everything was in I let Sweetp out to explore. I am not positive he has found the litter box yet. Despite me trying to show it to him. But he seems intrigued by the whole space. It's funny to see him go down the stairs.

James went back to the apartment. To get their plants and a few other things. They would also get us pizza. And while they were gone I put all my suitcases away and worked on my sticker drawing for the day.

I started not feeling great. Really bad actually. I was coughing so hard I was gagging and wheezing. I would put on a sweatshirt and lay down and that's where I am now. James should be home soon with dinner. And I hope our first night in our new home is great.

Tomorrow, if I'm not absolutely dying, I will be going back to work. I'm really excited about that. I miss everyone.

I hope you all have a great night tonight. I love you all. Goodnight!!

[garbagefarm]

Mutucule Farm #14

2023-03-20, Session #14 of Mutucule Farm, Spring 13–22, Year 2

Cast:

me (@mothmute)

Belle (@snacco)

Cam (@amanitaspore)

Erin (@salamand3rin)

Highlights include, but are not limited to:

Non-binary sheep!

Erin found the secret note tree and cut it down

Eggfest!

Cam wanders into the eggfest from the woods, still beats Erin there

It’s Fella’s first eggfest! aaand they don’t let him in.

Linus eyes a scrumptious pie

Marlon talks about sleggs

Evelyn wants to know about my hens

Leah misses last year’s boozy punch

Emily sewed little pants and hats for the eggs

Alex wonders what would happen if he ate thirty eggs every day

(he’d be roughly the size of a barge, obviously)

wilf (wizard I’d like to fuck) is nowhere to be seen

Surrounding Lewis and forcing him to start the egg hunt

What’s with all the unobtainable eggs, anyway?

I win the egg hunt with something like 9 eggs, just get 1,000g

Everybody trying to guilt me out of wearing my dumb hat*

* - legally not a hat

Cam brings cookies into my bed, getting crumbs everywhere

The pigs are getting everywhere, they’re above the law!

Embiggening the barn

Selling some of our excess gemeralds

I need to hunt down Penny and propose to her

Hey, can I borrow Fella?

“what’s the magic word?”

After hunting her down on horseback, Penny says yes! Wedding in three days!

Cam’s got a chest full of Fashion

I don’t carry a scythe around, but I do wear a copper pan, just in case

hey, do you think there was ever a version of the game where you could upgrade the copper pan into a steel pan? and then gold, and then iridium?

Erin stays up late to plant these parsnips, even if it kills her (it doesn’t, she’s fine)

it’s called parsnipment! commitment to the snips!

“I love milk as a condiment”

I’ve finished my chores, so I get to go pick berries in the woods now :)

Desynced strawbebbies :(

Hey suckers, guess who just got 2 free gold ore because of their “stupid hat” that is “legally not a hat”?? Who’s laughing now???

Cam invites people to play fashion roulette

Guess who just got 2 free copper ore??

All it cost was my dignity

Maybe if a scythe was a hat, I’d carry it around with me

... can Cam make clothes out a copper pan...? (no)

RIP Erin, collapsed in her own house.

Fella and Pompkin being incredibly cute together!! (see gallery)

The pigs keep digging up evidence truffles

(it’s such a good bit and we’re getting so much good mileage out of it)

Sergeant goes on an adventure!! (see gallery)

Accepting a quest to find a bunch of leeks for George

we’re worried about finding enough leeks in time, so Erin plants a bunch of spring wild seeds

incidentally: Belle consistently pronounces “George” as “Yorg” as a bit, it’s very good

Pompkin keeps spending a lot of time at Fella’s stables, it’s like they're roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

Day 17, I get married! (thanks to Erin for the wedding photos screenshots)

Wearing my stupid copper pan to my own wedding

Everybody can’t believe I made them all sit in the back

they’re glad I invited Linus, though

I was gonna try and wear Lewis’ lucky purple shorts (with slight modifications) but we didn’t have the cloth to pull it off ... but it wasn’t wearing my own clothes, anyway! Is there a rent-a-tux place in town, or what?

oh god it has short sleeves, it’s one of those t-shirts with a tux printed on it

Okay everybody, Penny is your new mom now

Detective is all grown!!

You kick Pompkin like the football???

Hey, crate on the beach! It contains ... omni geodes, that immediately fall into the water!

Please welcome Lieutenant to the family, they’re my wedding gift to myself

Oviraptor longs to be free, and cannot be contained!

It’s wednesday, so I run to joja in case we need to buy seeds, like the big joja fan that I am

Sam wants my input on what to write a song about. Trains, obviously.

Belle and Cam are talking about wrestling, and Erin asks about suplexes. suplexii? anyway, “they always deserve the suplex”

Rainy day! If Sebastian plays his cards right (by not doing much of anything),...

The Mariner rejects Belle’s request to buy a pendant, because she hasn’t upgraded her house yet

Belle concludes the Mariner is classist, and asks about how to upgrade her house

(Erin says something about “Rock and stone!” as a reference)

Cam said something about making a slime shirt, a slhirt

Belle puts in the order to improve her house, she’s gotta appease a probably-racist ghost

I tentatively make plans to crash at Cam’s place (after handing him a mussel) before remembering “oh shit I have a wife now” — either Erin or Belle offers to take care of that for me, I can’t remember which, Penny’s gonna wake up to a surprise

I’ve got magic leek hands, if you see any leeks you should let me know immediately so I can be the one to harvest them

Woolface the sheep!

Erin and I make an agreement where I get to pick the wild seeds (so I get the forage experience) IF I upgrade my watering can and trade with her, so she can get the upgrade without the downtime (I agree)

Free-range pigs, worshipping the meteor (see gallery)

I construct six bees. No more, no less.

Cool rings for everybody! Don’t turn them into fashion, they’re already fashion

Belle: “everybody’s a glow-boy now! look at my radius!”

ha-HA, more sparkles in the water! Except... I can’t reach! My hat* is defeated!

* - legally not a hat

Everybody piles into my bed, Penny is cranky about people getting in the way of her going to bed

Penny going “um nice weather” with everybody else the next day

Corporal is fully grown!

Belle asks if she can uses my kitchen to fry an egg — but she has her own stove now!!

Cam expected more from egg-shirt

yeah the bone mill, we’ve all seen it

Belle thought we had more bones, but alas, we are bonely

I snuck an ancient drum into Cam’s “to Fashion” chest, and it creates a “regal mantle” which “looks swood”

It matches my space boots! Kinda need new pants now though (see gallery)

On the non-canon day, I create a bunch of bombs and explode Erin

Cam hands us some jazz honey “because [we’re] sweet like honey” (see gallery)

TO-DO:

Flower dance, probably

Savin’ money for a rainy day...... (so Belle can try again)

do we wanna make it rain?

more backpack+tool upgrades??

Taller barn/coop/shed???

More hogs

Increased fences????

House upgrades!

Fashion!

More iridium sprinklers!

(more bundles)

More fruit trees!

Save up to buy stardrops from Krobus

Plant sweet gem berries (for stardrops)

Link to gallery post!

[uwingdispatch]

These Gentle Hands

These Gentle Hands

Notes: Bodhi Rook/Reader, everyone lives au, post-rebellion, hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader, established relationship, somewhat domestic fluff, light angst

CW: chronic pain, anxiety, difficulty with disability

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

Your neck and shoulders had ached for days when you realized you were going to need to ask for help. You’d been this kind of sore before, but never to the point where you couldn’t do simple things for yourself. Like brush your hair. Or finish getting dressed.

The first day, you’d managed. Maybe you’d slept wrong. Bodhi was away and you’d been restless, always worried about your partner when he was on missions that could be so unpredictable. Everything had been moving so fast since the Battle of Jakku, and while the Empire was on its way out, there was still so much to do if the Rebellion wanted to keep the people of the galaxy safe, to build a new republic. The New Republic. And it could be dangerous.

But on the second day this pain forced you to leave your workstation early. Your supervisor knew your limitations and was graceful about them. Usually instead of abandoning your work completely, you’d focus on a less strenuous task and save work that would be more difficult for a day when you were experiencing less pain. But you knew when you needed to rest.

An astromech whose pilot was recovering in a bacta tank had taken over some of your sewing. He was a kind little droid, likely needing something to do to keep his binary mind off the recent injuries of his longtime companion. But you had to wonder how easily replaceable you were. If a droid could do your work—not just any droid, but an astromech—were you really needed? Sure, most astromechs were incredibly adaptable. But that was very much what you weren’t.

And now? You were sitting in your quarters alone with a hairbrush, half-dressed and ready to cry because you couldn’t reach over your head.

You were about to call that astromech to see if he could come to your quarters for a minute when there was a series of clicks and beeps at your door. When it slid open, you were surprised to see Bodhi, who wasn’t expected back on base for another few days.

“You’re home,” you said, drawing the blanket to your chest. Pants you’d managed. But the soft sleep tank you’d worn to bed last night was a bit on the sheer side.

“Mission went more smoothly than expected,” Bodhi said. “What’s wrong, love? There was a droid at your work station and he told me you were sick.”

You were barely holding back tears as Bodhi sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m not so much sick as I am…hurt,” you said. “I can’t lift my arms over my head, or bend to use my sewing machine.”

“Did you go to the med bay?” Bodhi asked, taking your hand.

With the top of his orange flight suit tied around his waist, he looked perfectly tidy. He had a clean undershirt on, his hair braided back, beard neatly trimmed. He’d gone to his quarters and cleaned up a bit before coming to see you. And you were an absolute mess. You knew he didn’t care, but it still bothered you a little.

“No,” you said. “I didn’t. They’re pretty full with folks who have serious injuries—I didn’t want to take a bed or bacta when I know this will pass on its own.”

“You’re just as important as anyone in that med bay,” Bodhi said. “You know that, right?”

“I know, people do tell me that. Sometimes…I mean I’m not in combat. If feels different, you know?”

“I know, love,” he said, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face to press a tender kiss to your lips. “But it’s still true.”

You told him how you felt about being replaced by a droid, and he reminded you that the droid was only doing the machine embroidery and some of the simpler repairs. He didn’t have an eye for details like you did. Not with garments. He couldn’t have tailored a jacket perfectly for a new recruit’s body like you had for him.

“Thank you,” you said. “I needed to hear that.”

Bodhi brought your hand to his lips and kissed it. “Stay right here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

When Bodhi returned he had heat packs and a salve. “Baze told me that this salve is similar to something the guardians used a lot in training, back on Jedha, before the occupation.” He turned around and opened a drawer that he knew held your clean shirts. “Let me help you.”

You moved a little in your bed so that Bodhi could sit behind you. He applied Baze’s salve to your neck and upper back. His touch was gentle, delicate as his fingers swept over your aching shoulders. When he kissed your neck just behind your ear, you let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

He helped you change into a soft t-shirt. He was so careful and kind in his movements—this was not a labor to him. This was an act of love

“This is my favorite of your tattoos,” Bodhi said, gently running his fingertips over the convor on your forearm. “It has always felt perfect for you, and your spirit.”

On another day you could have fallen asleep in his arms. Today, though—you just hoped this salve was half as good as Baze had said it was.

“Now where’s your hairbrush?” he asked.

It was still at your side, so you handed it to him. As he began to gently brush your hair, he told you about how his mother brushed his hair for him when he was a child.

“I always found it so calming,” he said. “It was like a ritual we had. And when I was older she taught me to braid hair, and I helped my cousins get ready for school.”

“A lot of you in that one house, huh?” you said.

“Yeah,” he said. “After my aunt died, they came to live with us.”

Bodhi didn’t often talk about his family, about growing up in an occupied area.

“Honestly it’s part of why I enlisted,” he continued. “I guess I also wanted to fly a TIE fighter. But I thought I could help my family, keep them safe. But...” he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” you said, knowing he had lost most of his loved ones when Jedha was destroyed. “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to,” he said. “I mean, a little. Maybe just a little today. With you, love.”

As Bodhi talked, your body began to relax completely. You didn’t know whether it was the salve or the soothing motion of the hairbrush or the stress leaving your body, but your pain had become more tolerable.

When he stopped brushing, Bodhi bent and kissed the top of your head, asked you how you were feeling.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Bodhi Rook,” you said, leaning back into his warm chest. “But I’m so glad I get to love you.”

“Funny,” he said. “I feel the same way about you.”

When he asked if he could braid your hair, of course you said yes.

“This way you won’t have to worry about it for a little while,” he said. “Until you’re feeling better.”

There was something so intimate about his hands in your hair, deftly weaving strand over strand. When he tied off the braid, he wrapped his arms around you and you eased yourself back back to lay against his chest.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Since Jakku, things are finally quieting down. The general has mentioned that they won’t need me for combat missions much longer. Baze and Chirrut were talking about going to Chandrila. They’re getting some temporary housing ready for folks like us. Rebels who…can’t go home.”

The Empire had turned Bodhi’s home into a giant crater, and the inhabitable parts of Jedha wouldn’t be inhabitable for long, given the hole the Death Star blasted in the surface that went all the way to the moon’s core.

And you—you’d grown up in a turbulent environment, which had made joining the Rebellion an easy choice. Presented with the opportunity to get away and contribute to this important cause? It made more sense to you than most things in your life. But even if you’d wanted to go home, the Empire had laid waste to much of your home planet.

“I heard about that,” you said. “The housing on Chandrila. Just outside the capitol, right?”

You, too, had been told you might be less busy in the near future. It honestly worried you, since you had no idea where you’d go, especially if you were let go from your responsibilities before those you were closest to.

Bodhi massaged your shoulders, his gentle hands perhaps as soothing as the salve that was beginning to take effect. “Would you want to go to Chandrila with me?” he asked. “There are other options, but I thought it might be a good fit. I wouldn’t always be home, not at first. They’ll need me to pilot for the relief effort. But soon…maybe a normal life.”

“I wasn’t sure that would ever be possible for us,” you confessed. “But it sounds nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bodhi leans down to kiss your cheek. “Soon, then. I’ll tell the general today.”

You relaxed into Bodhi, a quiet calm spreading throughout your body. The war had felt so endless for so long that any time you thought of a future without the Rebellion you’d felt a panic rising in you chest. But here was Bodhi, with a plan—now you couldn’t imagine any other way to move on to the next part of your life. Together.

You closed your eyes and rested your head on his shoulder. When the little red and white ball droid showed up at your door, you were so relaxed that you almost didn’t notice.

“Mate, you found us!” Bodhi said. “Come on over here. This is the person I was telling you about.”

The little droid rolled up to your bed, tilted his head to the side. He chirped a binary hello.

“Who is this?” you asked.

“This is QR-3D,” Bodhi said. “I’ve been calling him Red, he seems to like that. They assigned him to me right before I shipped out on that last mission. On account of my leg.”

“They gave you a therapy droid?” you asked. You couldn’t help but smile. The droid was cute, and you loved that your partner would have some extra help with his own recovery, especially on days when you couldn’t be there.

“They did,” Bodhi said. “The doctor said I would have had one when I was recovering after Scarif, but there had been a delay at the manufacturer. But he’s here now, and we’re getting along.”

“This is incredible,” you said. “Welcome home, Red.”

Red beeped and whistled, something along the lines of “new friend!”

Bodhi gave Red a little pat.

“He knows he’s assigned to me. But I told him you might need a bit of help sometimes, too.”

A string of beeps and chirps came in response that roughly translated to “Master Bodhi’s support person.”

“We’re going to work on that. I’m nobody’s master. This is a family.”

A little panel opened on Red’s round body and he held out a bag from the base cantina. He chirped a binary phrase for “organic battery.”

“I figured you might not have eaten so I sent him to the cantina” Bodhi said.

Carefully he got out of bed, moving around a few pillows and a heating pad for you before retrieving the bag from the little droid. “Thanks, mate.”

Inside the bag were a few fresh portion bread packets, a little canteen of water, and two pats of blue butter.

“It’s not much, but I’ll bring you a proper dinner later.” Bodhi said. “I have to go debrief in a minute, but Red is going to stay here with you while I’m gone, if that’s okay.”

“I’d like that,” you said. “We can get to know each other.”

Red chirped enthusiastically.

Bodhi kneeled down, tilted your chin ever so slightly toward him, and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. You could just reach to hold his face in your hand, his short beard tickling your palm. When you closed your eyes, you could picture a future for the first time. Actual dinner dates. Afternoons spent in parks and holidays at home. Spending the night together in a real bed meant to fit two people.

“Soon,” Bodhi said, almost as if he could see what you were thinking, kissing you just a little deeper, a little longer, before an alarm on his chrono went off and he realized he was about to be late for his meeting.

He leaned in again to kiss your forehead, squeezed your hand. “Get some rest, love,” he said. “I won’t be long.”

★★★★★★★★

I usually write pretty vaguely described reader characters, but I had this idea and couldn't not do it. I hope you enjoyed this little vignette and that it made you feel seen and loved.

Also, yes, this is Red’s origin story! Or at least part of it. Therapy droids (first?) appeared in Chuck Wendig’s novel Aftermath: Life Debt. They’re canon! I also have it on good authority that BB-8 originated as a therapy droid for Poe Dameron’s father Kes, but I’m not sure where in the canon this information appears. As a disabled person with both mental and physical health issues, I would love a little BB-8 to help me out.

Tags: @waterpancakeao3 @zinzinina @princessxkenobi @maul-ologue @operation-spot @strwrs​

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Say my name

Summary: You are the new head seamstress at the palace and tasked with the making of new clothes for the General who had his eye on you ever since he first saw you.

Pairing: General Kirigan x F!reader

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: pining, fluff (kinda?), smut (oral; f receiving, unprotected sex, cum play👀)

A/N: I fully blame @constip8merm8 for this. You know why. I can't promise there will be more, but I had to get this out of my head. This is just an excuse to write some filth, sorry dudes. Tagging @agirllovespancakes cause she wanted me to 💜

Masterlist

You checked everything you would need in the next hour again, lining it up with precision as you waited. You were nervous. Not because the task was complicated, you had been the King’s seamstress for about three years by now, no.

You were nervous because it was him who requested your services personally.

General Kirigan.

You had only met him once briefly as he passed by. Usually his garments were made by the senior seamstress. But she had retired last month, leaving you in charge. Up until now some of your male colleagues had worked with him. But today he wanted you.

And you were positive you would do a superb job. You just had to ignore the handsome man whose body you had to touch to get the measurements you needed to sew his new cloak, coat and pants.

Rubbing your sweaty hands on your thighs you almost jumped when there was a knock at the door. The door opened, revealing one of the many servants, announcing the man who walked in next, before the door was closed again, leaving you alone with the General. You breathed in deeply, a little smile on your face.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you,” you didn’t know why but you bowed a little. Looking up you saw his eyes looking down at you with amusement.

“There’s no need for that. Yet, you better hurry, I have to leave by sundown,” he said and you nodded.

“Will you please take your cloak and coat off, so I can begin with the measurement?” you asked and he nodded, his fingers working each button of his dark coat. You averted your eyes to ignore how his long fingers worked at getting himself undressed. You heard him take off his cloak as you reached for the tape measure and turned to face him.

“I’m gonna be quick,” you promised as you began to work.

He was quiet and still as a stature as you took his measurements. You had your problems reaching his neck but you managed. He was taller than you and you cursed yourself that you didn’t bring your stool so you could work properly. Everytime you looked at him you found his eyes already on yours. This didn’t help your nervousness at all and you felt yourself flush even more.

“If I might say, this would have been easier if I had Manuel do this, he is taller than me,” you said with a nervous smile as you stopped in front of him. He smiled playfully.

“That might be, but I do enjoy your hands more than I do Manuel’s,” he looked at you and you sucked your bottom lip in, not daring to answer.

Not thinking clearly, you got on your knees to get the measurements for his pants, missing the dark look he gave you at seeing you on your knees just where he imagined you ever since he first saw you all these months ago.

He had been thinking about you more than he would like to admit.

You hummed, writing down everything you needed, ignoring the throbbing between your legs as you measured up his, ending way too close to his groin. You looked up at him with big eyes as he groaned and closed his eyes, trying to get his body, his mind, in control. He wanted nothing more than to pick you up and push you against the nearest wall. You saw his jaw tense and you could see just how affected he seemed to be by your closeness as you looked at his growing bulge.

Wetting your lips you got up, turning away from him to write down everything you need.

“Would you like something similar to before, or can I try out some new designs?” you asked, still not turning around, not trusting yourself to not do something even more inappropriate.

“Surprise me,” he said quietly and you nodded. You took more time than usual to write everything down before you turned towards him again. You only needed one measurement until you were finished. Smiling softly, you looked at him.

“Could you bend down so I can measure your…” you gestured up to his neck and he nodded. You expected him to just bend down to let you quickly get the measurements but he kneeled down, now looking up at you and you were pretty sure you were about to faint. He was so close and his scent invading your nose, making you breathe out shakily. If he noticed your shaking hands he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead you felt one of his hands carefully rest on your waist as if to calm you down. This had the complete opposite effect. You let your hands fall to his shoulder, closing your eyes as you breathed in deeply.

“I got everything I need,” you whispered as you opened your eyes and found him looking at you with an expression you couldn’t name. He was so handsome. You wanted to touch him. To caress him. To kiss him. But you were only one mere servant to the king. Even though you got the impression that he wouldn’t mind, you didn’t want to be one of those girls he lay with and never be heard from again.

“Perfect,” he said quietly, his hand on your waist squeezing lightly before he got up to stand at his full height again.

“I could have something ready until the end of next week,” you said and he nodded with a small smile.

“Send word once you're finished, and I’ll make time so we can try them on,” he reached for his coat and cloak.

“Oh you don’t need me to try them on, General. I can just send someone…”

“No. I need you there,” he said and the look he gave you didn’t leave any room for arguments.

“Of course General,” you whispered and nodded. He stepped closer after he had buttoned his coat and you couldn’t stop yourself as your hands reached up to close the last 3 buttons.

“Call me Aleksander…” he whispered, as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. You closed your eyes, feeling him take a step back.

He was gone by the time you opened your eyes again.

You were nervous. Someone had helped you with the garments you had made for General Kirigain, Aleksander, and now you found yourself waiting for him in his chambers. This was highly inappropriate. But not more inappropriate than the thoughts you had of him ever since you saw him last.

The skin on your forehead where he had kissed you seemed to burn every time you thought of him. Which was; all the time. You couldn’t get him out of your head. You had never felt this way. This aroused at only the thought of someone. Maybe this had something to do with his powers.

The door behind you opened and you turned around.

“I was hoping you would be here when I finished,” he said as he closed the door behind him. You felt the nervous flutter in your belly as he walked towards you, shedding of his thick coat.

“You send word, so here I am,” you said and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“It’s that easy?” he asked and you knew he was teasing.

“Sometimes,” you teased back with a small smile and he smiled back.

“Will you show me what you made for me?” he asked. You only nodded before you turned from him to walk over to his bed where all the garments were spread out.

“I made two coats, a cloak and some pants for you to wear,” you explained and you felt him behind you, not close enough to touch but to feel his warmth as he leaned over your back, looking down.

“You did all of this in 9 days?” he asked and you nodded.

“I’ve already had some sketches. I don’t get to work with black fabric a lot…”

“They’re beautiful. Let me try them on,” he said as he stepped away to pick up one of the coats. He was standing there in only his pants and dark undershirt and this time you didn’t look away as he put the coat on, running his big hands over the fabric.

“All this measuring seems to have paid off,” he teased as he turned around to look at himself in the mirror. He looked regal. The silver ornaments you had used for the shoulders shimmering in the candle light.

He turned towards you as you looked up at him and you didn’t know why you felt so brave but you reached up to run your fingers over his cheek. He leaned into your touch and stepped closer, his chest touching yours. You didn’t know how long you just looked at each other before he bent down, still giving you time to decline before his lips brushed over yours. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feel of his lips on yours before he parted from you. You opened your eyes, your lips still tingling as you felt his hands framing your face before he kissed you again. You sighed, getting on your tiptoes to get closer as he kissed you like a dying man. You wrapped your arms around his neck, one of your hands wandering into his hair. His tongue licked over your lips and you parted them for him, moaning against him as his tongue danced with yours. You felt his hands leave your face only for them to run down your back to pick you up. You crossed your legs behind him, clinging to him as he walked towards his bed, sitting down with you in his lap without his lips parting from yours.

You were out of breath, your insides throbbing and feeling a little light headed. He parted from your lips, his forehead resting against your as he brushed his nose against yours.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you,” he confessed and you couldn’t help but smile. You shifted your weight on his lap, rolling your hips a little as you felt his hardened length beneath you. He groaned, his hands running down your back, grabbing a handful of your ass to push you closer against him.

“Keep doing that and I won’t be able to stop,” he warned. You bit your lower lip, not stopping your movements and he looked at you with hungry eyes.

“Maybe I don’t want you to stop, General,” you teased.

“I told you to call me Aleksander,” he groaned, thrusting up and you gasped.

“Make me,” you grinned, shrieking when you found yourself beneath him as he turned you on the bed so you were under him, his eyes dark and dangerous.

“Hands over your head until I say otherwise,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

“Yes General,” you teased and he chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned down to kiss you again. You parted your legs to make space for him as he began to kiss down your jaw, kissing down your neck, sucking lightly on the skin of your throat before you felt him undo the laces of the blouse you were wearing, kissing down your collarbone and the top of your breasts. You were breathing hard, anticipating his lips as he pushed your blouse open.

“Beautiful,” he whispered before he softly kissed your breasts, closing his mouth around one of your nipples. You fought the urge to touch him, keeping your hands over your head as you arched your back.

You felt him smile against your skin as his tongue flicked over your nipple making you bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out.

“I want to hear you,” he whispered before his lips wandered to your other breast. This time you moaned as he sucked harshly on your nipple. He kissed down your stomach, and you squirmed beneath him as he looked up at you, his eyes asking for permission. You bit your lip, nodding weakly as his finger hooked into your skirt and undergarments, pulling them down your knees, letting them fall to the ground. You were almost completely naked while he was still fully dressed, but you couldn’t bring himself to care. If how he touched you until now was any indication of what was about to come you would gladly stay like this forever.

His eyes seemed to eat you alive, focusing on your glistening cunt as he licked his lips. Only one man had ever gone down on you. Somehow you were sure you wouldn’t even remember the man's name, once the General was finished with you. He got off the bed, taking the coat and his shirt off.

You sighed.

“I really want to touch you,” you confessed.

“Soon, my dove,” he smiled and got down, slowly kissing up your leg. His beard added to the sensation of his lips and you positively lost your mind as he sucked on the skin of your inner thigh, marking you as his.

He teased you, his lips softly running over your folds but not really doing anything. You groaned, looking down at his amused eyes as his tongue dared out, licking one strip through your folds. He moaned at your taste, kissing your cunt before he lightly sucked on your clit.

“Heavens…” you cried out, your fingers buried in the soft covers of his bed as he buried his tongue inside of your cunt, his nose brushing over your clit.

“I want you to cum for me…” he whispered.

His tongue was back on your clit but you felt his fingers at your entrance, slowly pushing two in. You had never felt like this. You cried out when he angled his fingers inside of you, his mouth still sucking, nibbling, driving you insane.

“Come on, cum for me,” he demanded lowly and you came with a cry, your limbs shaking as you rode the wave of pure bliss he had just granted you. Out of breath you closed your eyes, trying to come down from your high when you felt his fingers leave your core. You opened your eyes, only finding him licking off your juices from his fingers and you could cum just from the sight of him again.

“Even more beautiful than I imagined,” he said and you found yourself chuckling, making him smile.

“I think you hit your head down there…” you teased and he rolled his eyes. The man on top of you was so different to how you imagined him to be and you had to be careful not to fall for him.

“I think it’s time for you to fuck me General,” you said biting your lip and he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Still not saying my name. We can’t have that…” he pushed his pants down and you held his gaze until you couldn’t take it anymore and looked down. And you couldn’t hold back the low moan at seeing his already leaking cock, wanting nothing more than to run your tongue over it.

He settled between your legs before you could make any attempt to suck his cock, his arms resting next to either side of your head as he leaned down to kiss you.

“You can touch me when you say my name,” he whispered against your lips as you felt him line up and slowly enter you, the stretch of his length making you moan quietly. He watched you, his face above yours. He was moving slowly, biting his lip as he thrusted slowly until his whole length was buried inside of your tight cunt.

“Say it…” he groaned and even though you wanted nothing more than to touch him, you also wanted to tease him some more. Maybe you could even make The Darkling beg for you. A thought that made you clench around him and he cursed.

“You have to do better than that, General,” you grinned and his eyes seemed to darken.

“Careful what you wish for, Dove.”

“Don’t be gentle,” you whispered as you tilted your head up to kiss his lips and he growled, biting into your lower lip as you felt him bottom out to thrust back in. Hard.

“Say it…” he groaned, his head falling down, his lips brushing against your ear and you cried out as he fucked into you. Slow but hard, letting you feel every ridge and vein of his cock. You wanted to touch him, to run your nails down his back, marking him so as yours even though you had no claim on him.

He sucked on your neck, his chest on yours, his weight almost crushing you. You hooked your legs around his behind, wanting him closer.

“Fuck me Aleksander…” you whispered against his ear as your arms came around him, your fingers running down his back and he growled, pumping into you faster, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. You were so close, you didn’t know where you ended and he began.

“I can feel you squeezing me. Cum. Cum for me…” he said lowly, thrusting hard and you shattered around him, your fingers digging into his back as you came. Hard. While he fucked you through your orgasm.

He moaned against your shoulder, his moves getting sloppier until you felt him pull out, his weight leaving yours as he spilled his seed over your stomach, moaning your name lowly. You looked up at him, a work of art as he tried to get his breathing back to normal, his eyes closed. You looked at the mess he made on you, waiting for him to open his eyes as you gathered some of his cum on your fingers, bringing it up to your lips to suck on it.

“Fuck…” he groaned, watching you with dark eyes.

You smiled, sucking on your fingers.

“Already tired, General?” you grinned, shrieking with laughter when he began to tickle you.

[chil2de]

How are you today? If its alright with you, can I request a Atsumu x fem reader where she has a super tomboy style and ALWAYS wears baggy clothes, but one day atsumu comes over to hang out and the only outfit she has left is kinda a tight fitting shirt and for the first time ever Atsumu realizes just how curvy his girlfriend is

sorry if thats to specific! feel free to ignorethis!

warning - miya atsumu x reader

hiii! i’m doing okay anonie, thank you and i hope u are faring well!!! so um this ended up being a LOT longer than i expected pls forgive me it was supposed to be a cute lil drabble but now its like uh 2k words aJdhfhhd, i really loved this idea!!! don’t worry ab it being too specific i actually like that and it helps give me a general idea about the req

well whilst this isn’t tooooo nsfw there are a few small themes in the beginning + swearing since i write atsumu like that and implications of sexual content ig at the end but aside from that? just some fluff for our fav king. characters are aged up and i am unsure how it would work but call it anime logic and enjoy! thanks for requesting! (okay rereading the ending is lowkey smut why am i like this)

“b-cup.” atsumu huffed with confidence. he took a large swig out of his water bottle, nodding his head wisely in affirmation.

“really? i’d say c-cup.” suna chimed in, his half-lidded gaze narrowing.

“nah, it’s b-cup”

“what the hell are you two talking about?” osamu interjected, concern and disgust thick on his features as he came over carrying a few towels.

“(y/n)’s bra size” suna nonchalantly responded, his eyes flicking up for a few seconds as he accepted the towel from osamu.

“‘tsumu i knew you were messed in the head but, suna? have you caught his germs?”

“fuck are you making it sound like i have some viral disease?”

“you don’t?” suna snorted, plopping down onto the floor to sit cross-legged.

“why don’t you just ask her?” osamu’s gaze flickered onto yours from across the court. you felt your ears burn from the way the three of them were staring at you.

was something on your face?

a bug? dirt?

“huh? like i’m supposed to say, hey baby girl, what size are your tits?”

“i’m still saying b-cup”

“c-cup”

“i think b-cup” osamu joined in, watching atsumu screw his face at him

“you goddamn hypocrite-“ “who’s being a hypocrite?” kita inquired with a half-hushed tone, making his way over with a few protein bars

“oh my god i’m going home” atsumu groaned, resting his palms on his knees as he stood up. he beelined towards you, his exhaustion painted his lazy smile beautifully. he still had the energy to turn around over his shoulder and flip his middle finger up at his team whilst his right hand snaked around to your waist.

somewhere around your waist. it took him a little bit of digging through all the fabric.

it didn’t matter to him, though. as much of a jackass as he might’ve been, he never judged you for the way you dressed. even if it meant that sometimes you looked a lil bit homeless, at the end of the day- he still had that glimmer in his eyes whenever he saw you.

you would be his favourite baby girl, no matter what.

“is that my shirt you’re wearing?” he hummed, glancing down to look at it.

it was, in fact, one of his shirts. it was matte black in colour, with a small dip that would showcase atsumu’s collar bones. it was a little bit faded from the many wash cycles it endured throughout its lifetime, but he would always notice the small tear in the bottom right section of the fabric.

“sorryyy, i know you just washed it but it smelled so nice. also, wow, did you put on deodorant? you actually smell like a man it’s kinda creepy”

“i always put on deodorant you dipshit, you’re always crying about how pretty my face looks so your nose doesn’t pick up the scent. it’s verbena citrus, buy your own because i know you’ll try stealing mine so i’m putting a padlock on that shit.” atsumu scoffed, digging his fingers into your sides to tickle you as you walked. you squirmed, swatting him away as you dug your hands into the pockets of your joggers. they were not atsumu’s, unfortunately, for you found out the hard way that you would literally have to drag the excess fabric behind you like some train dress or bundle it up and fold it, which, in retrospect- did not look too aesthetically pleasing. you settled for your own joggers and favourite high-top sneakers to match.

“you know you’ll say all this but give me your deodorant anyway, right?” you stuck your tongue out at him. he rolled his eyes, ruffling your hair.

“hey.” he called out, causing you to direct your attention towards him.

he nudged your arm with his elbow.

oh.

“give it here.”

you uncurled your left hand out of your pocket, zipping it up to make sure the contents inside didn’t spill. atsumu slid his right hand away from your waist and opened his palm up, intertwining his fingertips between yours into a tight lock. he grazed his thumb over the back of your hand, giving you a small squeeze.

“that was the cheesiest and most corniest thing you’ve done and i hated it” you made a mock gagging sound, averting your gaze.

you could feel the blush fresh on your cheeks, heart pounding in your chest like it was about to explode.

“wait, you thought i was holding your hand because we’re dating? i’m just doing it because i know your dumbass would get lost” atsumu snorted, throwing his head back in laughter.

well,

you could still see the light blush tinting his cheeks. and it wasn’t the sunset.

“mmm, should i wear this one- wait-“ you grabbed the shirt, folding it upwards as you took a small whiff. well,, you did wear it yesterday… yeah, you did put it in the laundry basket,,, no, it didn’t smell toooo bad, but..

you groaned, tossing it back into said basket as you furrowed your brows in concentration.

you heard the doorbell ring which only caused you to panic even further. you just needed a shirt. literally any shirt. you were about to cut your freaking pants out and sew them together to another pair for a shirt.

since it was a friday, you had atsumu walk you halfway home. you only lived a street away from him, and the apartment was conveniently built on a fork between the road down to his house and the supermarket. hence, he dropped you off and went to the store all by himself like a responsible adult to grab some snacks for the weekend.

“it’s open!” you called out, leaning your jaw back as you shouted in hopes for your voice to travel further.

in that moment, just in the corner of your eye- you saw a familiar flash of black.

you swooped the fabric up, quietly humming in pleasure when it smelled like laundry detergent and fabric softener.

you lifted the shirt over your head, struggling to pull it down for a few seconds.

you admired yourself briefly in the mirror.

it was a casual t-shirt. it reached down to the middle portion of your arms, though it was significantly less baggy than all of your other clothes. you liked to sleep in it during hot and stuffy summer nights, but rarely found yourself using it otherwise.

it’s not like you didn’t like these kinds of shirts.

but when given the option to look “stylish” or comfortable, who wouldn’t pick comfortable? that’s what was important to you above all. clothes that made you feel like you were constantly in bed were a godsend from the heavens.

“hey dipshit, i spent twenty minutes jumping stores for you but no one sold any (favourite drink) so i got you-“ atsumu halted in his steps, the grocery bags curled around his fists were suddenly forgotten and discarded as he caught sight of you through the doorframe.

you were clad in a pair of old white shorts and a black t-shirt, complimentary of the fact that everything else was currently in the laundry machine. atsumu could outline every single damn crevice and dip on you, and he burned that shit so deep into his retinas that he would still see it when his eyes were closed.

he felt his breath hitch, something deep inside him resonating, growing feral like hunger.

he still stood by what he said,

baggy clothes or not, you were beautiful.

but he wasn’t expecting this

“so you bought what?” you inquired, twisting your torso halfway to greet him as you finished brushing through some knots in your hair at the vanity.

“huh?”

“you said there wasn’t any (favourite drink) so you got what? did you fall and crack your head open on the way here? cause it looks like it”

you could feel your heart squeeze, body temperature increased twofold as icy hot waves wracked every inch of your skin. there was a cold sweat that rolled down the back of your knees.

“shut the hell up, i hate you” atsumu grumbled, forcing himself to turn away from you and stomp off to the kitchen with a pout.

“jesus christ give me strength i hate this woman, where the hell does she get off thinking she can get away with looking so good like that” atsumu mumbled incoherent curses underneath his breath, shakily unloading everything he bought out onto the counter and stuffing the groceries into cabinets and the fridge.

“‘samu, i hate you but dude i need twin telepathy, give me strength so i don’t deck this woman right here right now” he cursed, gritting his teeth. his self-control was about to fly out the window.

“you okay?” you popped your head through the door, leaning into the kitchen.

he could see the outline of your prominent collarbones, the way the shirt still fell a little bit and hung loosely off of your frame. he could see the start of your stomach.

god, it should’ve been illegal the way he wanted to grab your thighs. he wondered for a second what it would look like with his fingerprints etched into your skin there.

“want a few tissues and some lotion?” you snorted, nestling up beside him to help. you gazed at him, watching him keep his eyes narrowed on the packet of pistachios he was fumbling with.

you thought it was cute.

“listen- if you’re not ready yet then i’d suggest that you find something else to wear cause holy shit if you don’t get away from me right now i swear i will not restrain myself-“

“i’m ready” you hummed, giving him an innocent smile. you toyed with your hands behind your back, fiddling with them as butterflies swept your abdomen.

atsumu snorted, eyebrows creasing in confusion. he turned to face you, setting the pistachios down.

“alright i’m not saying this to boost my ego, but, what did you say?”

“i said i’m ready”

you watched his brain stir, gears ticking and turning like clockwork.

atsumu let out a low sigh.

“yeah, yeah. well, then.”

his right hand slammed against the wall, caging you in. he leaned into you, looming over you as his half-lidded eyes burned holes inside your soul. you felt the air tense and switch around him, carnal desires swirling behind his gaze. his chest was so close to yours, practically flush, save for the tiniest gap. you could literally feel his heart hammering.

he was so invasive, so close, yet so respectful. he still kept his distance, just n case you changed your mind.

“are you sure this is what you want?” his voice was hot and slick against the shell of your ear, voice husky and octaves deeper. you could feel the sexual tension dripping from him.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against him.

“i’m sure, ‘tsumu.”

a loud chuckle ripped from the depths of his chest. it was so hearty, and fuck, it made you clench.

atsumu swooped you up all in one swift motion, hands hooking underneath your thighs as he shoved you against the counter. he sent everything clattering and thudding in the process.

“don’t say i didn’t warn you, doll.”

[redinkofshame]

Arranged Marriage

Hipster AU did not spark joy, so I used the Arranged Marriage joker for day 3 of the @augustwritingchallenge. This is probably the last one I’ll do, unless I also do an arranged marriage for Cedric/Cassandra. It’s also my favorite one :D

The evanuris have survived to the dragon age, Fen'Harel included amongst them. In order to make peace with the free clans of elves a marriage is arranged between the Trickster and one of their own. Like all of Solas' plans, it goes awry.

1882 words, mature for smexiness but no actual hanky panky. Read on AO3

Wedding Night

“You still intend to go through with this, then?” Mythal asked.

Fen’Harel sighed, eyeing her reflection from where he stood surrounded by attendants. They made last minute adjustments to his wedding vestiments, buffed his nails, applied cosmetics. “I gave my word, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but even you must admit you have a proclivity for… last minute ‘tricks’. We must make peace with the free clans—”

“Easiest done with a marriage, and I am the only one amongst us who is yet unmarried, yes, I know,” he said, biting his tongue. He knew better than the rest of them how important this was; they continued to underestimated the power of the free clans.

“It’s merely surprising that you haven’t proposed some other crazy solution to avoid being tamed. You’ve been the lone wolf, all alone all these ages…”

He shooed away his attendants and sunk into the nearest chair. His hair dresser immediately made her move, beginning the bothersome process of brushing, curling, and braiding. An annoyance. A necessity. Long hair; the status symbol of a spoiled man who, supposedly, knew nothing of hard work, nor manual labor. No more a threat than a bunch of unaligned clans who could scarcely produce mages.

That is, of course, until he used this marriage to forge an alliance with his spouse’s people. The final key to in his plot to take down the Evanuris once and for all.

“All good things must come to an end,” he said with feigned disinterest. “Remind me the name of who I’m to wed again? That man from the garden with the curly hair?”

Mythal gave him a scathingly admonishing look. “Really, Fen, the least you could do is remember your intended’s name.” She kept up the look for another moment but when he gave no response she simply sighed. “You’re thinking of the ambassador they sent to announce that your bride was chosen by vote of the free clans at Arlathven.”

“She is important to them, then? A powerful mage?” he asked hopefully.

Mythal snorted. “Hardly. They say she has some skill with the arcane, but she’s better known for her sewing— no, embroidery.” He grunted in disappointment and she continued, almost to herself. “She’s no particular beauty, either. I can’t image she’s the best they’ve got to offer. Frankly, I’m tempted to take offense at the offering, but we already granted them permission to choose for themselves…”

He waved his hand dismissively. “It hardly matters what she looks like, so long as they care for her enough to lay down their arms.”

“I suppose. Her name is Keria, by the way, of Lavellan’s clan. Do try to remember it during the ceremony.” He felt her eyes on him, but kept his head bowed as his hair was adorned with golden toggles. “You know that you will have to gift her with her vallaslin during the ceremony as well.”

“Of course.”

Mythal stepped closer and lowered her voice. “A true vallaslin, Fen’Harel.”

The girl working his hair froze. He didn’t have to look at her to know that she, as all his servants, his “slaves”, wore a convincing imitation of his vallaslin on her face. He’d marked each of them with enough magic to keep them safe from the others, but it held none of the controlling or manipulation that a true vallaslin held.

He saw to it that his people followed him voluntarily, not due to fear or power. Many of them were agents of his grand plan playing a role until it was time to strike at the heart of their oppressors.

None of which Mythal was supposed to know, of course.

He met her eyes. “I understand.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, a silent threat, gauging his sincerity. At last, she nodded.

~~~~~

He remembered the name, of course, the ceremony lines, and the spell to apply a proper vallaslin to her pale face in front of everyone. Mythal’s assessment had been harsh — she was pretty enough. Her unruly black hair was short, of course, as was her place. He supposed she would grow it out, now. Her eyes were a shockingly bright blue, when he could get a good look at them, but she largely kept them averted. Her gown was a work of art. The cut of it was common enough, classic, but every inch of it was covered in painstaking embroidery. Her doing?

Not that her beauty mattered; he cared only whether or not she would become his willing ally in their fight, or if he’d have to use her new position as leverage. He’d expected her to fear him as the clans always did — with good reason. He was Mythal’s general, the attack dog she released whenever they stepped out of line or needed to be taught a lesson. At first he thought her unwillingness to meet his eyes was because she was afraid, or worse, because she loathed him. He would not hold it against her.

Surprisingly it was shy glances and flustered smiles he was met with. A blushing bride indeed.

The day was filled with much pomp and posturing, dancing and music and feasting and well-wishers and veiled insults and vague threats. Elgar’nan and the others were jumpy, so certain he was going to ruin this for them that they never considered it had been his idea to begin with. It was many hours before he and his new wife were able to retreat to his suite.

Or ‘their’ suite, he supposed, though he’d happily grant her separate chambers if she requested it. His rooms were plenty large enough for the two of them, but he didn’t relish the loss of this ability to move freely.

He left her for a moment upon entering to get familiar with the space as he stepped into the dressing chamber. He sighed in the relative privacy.

It was fortunate that Keria seemed to be a willing — perhaps eager — partner in this charade, but thus far she seemed too timid of a girl to bring honestly into his machinations. It would take some time to discern best how to proceed from here. In the mean time it was his wedding night…

He was certainly willing to bed her, but he would not press the issue. They needed to discuss rules and freedoms, what would be asked of her and what would not. What she could ask of him. He striped out of his vestiments and pulled on a pair of simple sleep pants. He did not bother with a shirt. He stepped back into the room.

“I think we should discuss our expectations…” He tailed off, not seeing her immediately. He found her in the dimly lit bedchamber, sitting on her heels at the end of the oversized bed, sheets pooling around her hips. She was naked except for the sash from her wedding gown tied loosely about her waist. When she saw him enter she raised to her knees, spread wide, and the blanket fell from her lap, exposing her fully. Her teasing smile beckoned him closer.

Well, then.

All thoughts of planning left him as his blood spiked, and he went to her. He stopped when he stood at the edge of the bed, inches from her, and pointedly looked her offering up and down. He reevaluated his own underestimation of her beauty.

“Lovely…” he murmured. His hand dropped and she arched her back in anticipation, her nipples tight, but it was the tail of the embroidered sash he took. “Did you make it yourself?”

To his surprise he laughed and shoved him playfully, illiciting a snort from him. “I did, in fact.” He ran his thumb over the intricate stitches and she shifted her weight nervously. “Do you, um, know a lot about embroidery?”  

“I don’t know much of the textile arts, I’m afraid,” he admitted, letting the silk slip through his fingers. “Perhaps you could teach me.”

She smiled coquettishly. “Oh, there’s a great deal I could teach you, Fen’Harel.” She sensually unknotted the sash.

He forced his eyes up to hers, determined to seem unaffected. “And here I thought I was wed to someone sweet and innocent.”

“Sweet? Sometimes. But innocent?” Keria flipped the sash up and over his head, where it settled like a scarf. “Certainly not.”

She tugged the ends of the sash and pulled him in for a kiss and he went easily, intrigued by this woman. He felt the brush of her lips but didn’t realize in time that she whispered an incantation, though his eyes flickered open just in time to see the hidden runes among the embroidered flowers light up, paralyzing him instantly. Her hand dashed beneath the covers and came up with a dagger that she plunged towards his chest.

The vallaslin on her face lit up as he activated it and staggered back, spell broken. She was frozen in place, mid-strike. His heart hammered in his chest in a way it hadn’t in decades, a mortal danger he rarely faced unwittingly.

No mortal blade could hurt him, but she would know that. Still shaken, he wrenched the dagger from her hand, careful not to nick either of them as she grunted, struggling to break free. He appraised the weapon, recognizing it easily even without the ravens in the hilt. It indeed would have been able to kill him, and was undoubtedly coated in enough poison to finish the job even if her aim ad been off. Smart.

“Dirthamen sent you, then?”

She still fought her bindings. He released her just enough that she could answer his question. “Yes.”

He tilted his head. She’d answered too quickly. He could see her tells, now that he knew what she really was. “A lie. Interesting. I’m only supposed to believe it was him.”

“You’re supposed to be dead,” snarled his darling wife.

“Ah, a fair point. Me, murdered on my wedding night, and Dirthamen to blame. To what end?” She answered by spitting at him and he paced as he thought it over, able to see how it would have played out — Mythal would exact justice before Elgar’nan could stop her, and Dirthamen’s twin would retaliate. The rest of the evanuris would choose sides. War, distrust, ample opportunity for more little assassinations.

A simple enough plan. One that damn near worked.

He lifted the dagger and it hovered in the air between them. With a twist of his hand he rendered the shining, poisonous thing inert, watching as it turned dull and clattered uselessly to the floor.

Keria looked like she was ready to tear him apart with her teeth instead. “It doesn’t matter what you do with me,” she growled. “Others will succeed where I have failed. You cannot stop us all! Your days are numbered, Dread Wolf — you and every other evil, murderous, slaving evanuris!”

Wordlessly he walked to a wardrobe, feeling her eyes following him as she waited for him to strike her down. How much of her shaking was from anger, he wondered, and how much from fear?

He pulled out a dressing robe and turned back to his bride, every inch of her radiating defiance despite the hold he still had on her.

He tossed her the robe. “Get dressed, vhenan. We need to talk.”

[magalidragon]

So this is in response to a prompt ask I got awhile back from @freesoulladyaic— they requested beauty underneath and I am not sure exactly what but I think there was a mixup for which prompt list and number was requested so I went with the one I thought made most sense I hope you don’t mind and so sorry it has been so long! Enjoy!

Prompt: “I prefer you naked but that dress looks really good on you too.”

"Fuck!"

"Language."

Jon looked up from where he'd stabbed his thumb with a pin, a series of them stuck between his lips.  He made a face at his wife, who was on the other side of the room, working on another dress form.  He lifted up the yards of shades of red soft organza and tulle, which he'd been alternating in a macrame styling on the bodice of the gown.  He'd been pinning them to the waist, already marked on the form.  It was giving it a very ethereal look, but with the deep colors, indicative of the Targaryen crest, the overlay looked equal parts ash and fire.

He finished off the bodice, taking the remaining pins from his mouth, and turned the form, frowning at the back, where he wanted to make the two straps criss-crossing from shoulder to waist thicker, both in black.  The red was just the detailing.  He pursed his lips, contemplating how best to achieve this, and felt eyes on him.  He lifted his, meeting Dany's gaze across the studio.  He smirked.  "What?"

"You're so focused, so intense."  She licked her lips, arching her brow teasingly. She purred, "You know what that does to me."

"Keep it in your pants, we've got dresses to finish."

"Hmm, the auteur himself, Jon Snow, working on his creation."  She sauntered over, in her long black housecoat, which she wore when working, her feet bare on the hardwood and jeans rolled at the cuffs.  Her hair was bound up in a scarf, kept from her eyes while she worked.  It was a decidedly unsexy look, measuring tape over her shoulder, pincushion strapped to her wrist and her pockets heavy with thread and a little set of scissors tucked into a brace on her other wrist, like she was some sort of sewing superhero.

He smirked up at her, the stool he was on swiveling over to her.  "Well I promised the client that I would have my best men on it."  He puffed his chest.  "And that happens to be me."

"Funny, I thought I was the client."

"You are, what do you think so far?"  He chewed his bottom lip, studying her face as she perused the fabric draped and pinned to the form.  He pretended like her opinion meant nothing to him, but in reality it was the only one that mattered.  If there was even a hint of dislike, he'd destroy the entire thing and start again.  It worked both ways.

She trailed a finger along the macrame detailing, the straps across the back, and lifted up the tulle strewn along the floor.  On the table he had sketches of the design, fabric samples pinned to a board on an easel, and at least one of the leather leggings he'd been sewing to go underneath.  While she studied everything, he got up, too nervous to watch her, and went into the adjoining office, picking up his vape.

Clamping his lips around it, he puffed, holding it in his mouth like a 'binkie' as Dany teased him, and picked up some sales reports, flicking through the assessments from their CFO.  They'd poached Willas Tyrell from his grandmother, mostly because he was bored with the steadiness of the established company and wanted something new.  He was brilliant, had taken their sales higher than even Jon had imagined-- and that was pretty far.

Dragonwolf had become the most sought after couture house in Westeros, while he transitioned L.Stark into an upscale ready-to-wear line, headed by Sansa.  Dany still maintained her CEO position over Dracarys, but Missandei had taken over as creative director.  It afforded him more time, he'd discovered, to do the things he really enjoyed doing.

Hanging out with Ghost, coming up with new creations, and Dany, not necessarily in that order.

He sucked down the fake smoke from the vape, tricking his brain it was actually a real cigarette, the action habitual and relaxing his nerves.  He sank into his chair, glancing at the photo of his mother he kept on the edge of the desk, smiling briefly at the image of her laughing, arms around him as he was wrapped up in fabric from playing in her studio.  His gaze darted to the image right beside it, of Dany in the same pose, hugging him after she had wrapped him up in fabric too.  It was in the same place, the same location he'd just come from, their private studio in the old townhome in Winterfell.

The vape still between his lips, he moved to the window, cranking it open and blowing smoke into the nighttime air, glancing towards the castle up on the hill.  The dresses were for the annual Winter's Eve Gala event, something of a who's who in the zoo of the Westerosi peerage and entertainment industry.  It was a chance for the Starks to show off the castle, everyone to arrive dripping in icy couture and jewels, and pretend like they gave a shit about the lesser people among them. There would be a famous silent auction, fundraising for the Lyanna Stark Memorial Fund-- which was incredibly important to his heart-- along with an award that would honor someone who had contributed significantly to Lyanna's chosen cause-- orphaned children.

But the thing people seemed to care most about was what everyone would be wearing.

He was making Dany's dress and she was making a dress for a new young actress as well as the young cousin of her friend Ser Jorah Mormont.  Lyanna Mormont was a Lady, technically, but you wouldn't know it.  She was a pistol.  This would be her first big event after her first movie had hit the scene, garnering her immediate raves and attention.  It was a big deal for her to be getting a chance to wear a Dracarys creation, especially handmade by Dany herself, but it was the least Dany said she could do for the young girl who made her smile and laugh every single time she encountered her.

Jon finished his vape, returning to the studio, and found Dany back to work on Lyanna's dress.  There were no notes left for him, so he continued to work, both of them silent.  He kept at it, accepting her kiss and murmured "don't stay up too late" with a distracted nod, remaining at his station into the night.  He pinned and draped and sewed, every stitch even, like his mother taught him.

Around two in the morning, his eyes burned, but he leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk, and Ghost under his legs, fast asleep.  He was working on the leggings, finding hand-sewing leather to actually be a relaxing task.  It was soft in his hands, buttery almost, and he likened it to his mother, watching her work on making her own riding clothes.  He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it, and pulled on thread, slipping it in and out, until his eyes drooped further and further, until he was fast asleep.

--

The suit he'd chosen to wear was one of Dany's. The irony of L.Stark by Jon Snow, award winning and bestselling couture men's designer wearing a suit from anyone but his own line, especially Dracarys.  It was something he never would have thought possible two years ago when they were at the height of their hatred for each other.  Nay, he corrected himself, it wasn't hating, it was unresolved tension, best resolved by the explosion most everyone witnessed at the MET gala.

He adjusted his tie in the mirror, smoothing the velvet brocade over his chest, eyeing Ghost, who looked like he wanted to run up to him.  He pointed his finger, warning.  "No way. This is black velvet.  I'll never get your fur out."

Ghost wagged his tail, thankfully staying put on the bed.

Indeed, it was an incredibly comfortable and finely detailed suit, black silk tie with matching black velvet brocade along it-- if you got close enough you could see it was wolves and dragons running and tangling throughout, swirls of flames and snow following them.  That was a hallmark of Dany-- her ability to tell stories with her designs and the intricacies of her attention to detail.

He left their room, knowing she was elsewhere in the suite at Winterfell, where they'd deigned to stay that evening to prepare for the event.  He thought it a little silly; they would have to pretend to "leave" just to "arrive" at the same location and walk up the icy blue carpet with photographers.

Price they paid, he supposed, for business.

He left the suite, taking his time down the set of stone stairs spiraling down from their sitting and bedroom areas, into a receiving hall.  Davos was already waiting, their constant taskmaster, and he had Satin floating about somewhere.  "Where's Arya?" he asked.

"I believe she said and I quote 'fuck this shit, I'm not going.'"

He snorted, fixing his cufflinks.  "Sounds about right."

Davos checked his watch.  "I'll go check on the car."

"Stupid Davos, this is stupid."

"It's just a whip around the block."  Davos nodded, signing, resigned.  "Although aye, it is stupid."

"What's stupid?"

Jon heard Dany's voice before he saw her, and turned, looking up the stairs to where she was at the top, waiting for him.  He gaped, mute, and jaw dropping the moment his eyes rested on her form.  It took his brain a second to catch up with his body, which was already responding in kind, and another second for his voice to return.

He choked, watching her smirk at him, knowing exactly how she appeared and what she was doing.  Especially with the slow descent she took, every step tiny, allowing the full effect of her appearance to settle.  He could not believe it.

It was one thing to see a dress on paper, another in progress, and even the final version on the form or on a model down the runway.

It was another when it was on the person who inspired it, who it was meant for, from the first sketch to the final stitch.

Dany floated down the stairs, the dress whispering around her, the crimson and black rippling through the soft tulle.  It gave her a fairy-like appearance, but it was the black macrame, the black strappy heels on her feet, and her black fingernails, leather leggings, and crimson lips that warned eveyrone she was no simpering little thing.  She would burn you alive.

The skirt floated about her and she had topped it off with the see-through tulle gloves he'd made at the last minute.  Her silver tresses were spun in a complicated braided style, mountains of them criss-crossing and tangling in a crown about her head.

Someone asked her once why she always wore her hair in such intricate braids-- it had become her trademark.  "When I was growing up I learned a lot about the Dothraki tradition of a braid for a victory," she explained.  She had smirked.  "I grew up with the Dothraki.  They were my family.  I have never been defeated.  The braids show that."

Jon couldn't believe how gorgeous she was.

Or how lucky he happened to be.

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, found his voice.  "You know, I prefer you naked but that dress looks really good on you too."

Dany beamed, her smile beatific.  She offered her elbow to him, to take and lead her away to their car, but instead he lifted her hand delicately, even though that had was stronger than anyone would have thought at first look.  Eyes on hers, unblinking, he dragged his fingertips up the tulle, delighting in her breathy hiss.

He dipped under the top of the glove, above her elbow, and began to peel it down, agonizingly slow.  Her pupils dilated and mouth fell, her tongue darting out to nervously wet her lips.  He plucked at fingers, removing the glove.  With her skin bared, he stroked her forearm and then lifted her knuckles to his lips, brushing over them.

"Jon," she gasped, brows arching.  "We're going to be late."

"Do you think I care?"

"It took forever to get into this dress and look like this."

He spun her into his arms, tossing the glove down, and nosed at her neck, whispering along her racing pulse.  "I made the dress, I'll be careful."

"Not a word in your vocabulary."

He didn't acknowledge that, because he was kissing her.  After a moment, he lifted her under her knees, hurrying her back towards the stairs, to her delighted giggles.

Occupational hazard, he thought, later when they were late, racing down the carpet instead of allowing photos taken.  He made her the dresses, even though honestly, she looked good in anything.  Or nothing, as the case may be.

"Dany, who are you wearing?" someone called out.

Dany shouted back.  "Who do you think?"

He laughed, racing after her and not even bothering to answer the same question directed at him.

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 11/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

Jack Willis is buried in the boneyard outside of town a week to the day after Mulder and Katherine meet.  Mulder attends the burial, but Katherine does not.  Aside from the gravedigger and the undertaker, no one is there to pay their respects.  Mulder is only there to pay the two men for their time.    

Time has an interesting way of moving.  When Mulder met Katherine, those first few days felt like the longest of his life.  And now weeks slip by and it feels like he needs to slow things down.  He remembers telling her his priority and focus is on the ranch, nothing more, yet now that she’s here, the ranch feels secondary to him in a time where he can’t afford to be distracted.

It’s coming up on October before he knows it and he’s got to get the horses ready to ride out to Fort Worth for the postal service.  If the team he’s built up is satisfactory, there’s more work to be had and a government contract just may be forthcoming.  If that’s not enough to occupy his time, with the new land he has thanks to his wife, he hopes to start in on the expansion before winter sets in.

Katherine fits in so well it’s like he can’t remember a time when she wasn’t there.  He notices that she seems to fill a role with each of the ranch hands.  For Trevor, it’s like the mother he never had.  She darns his socks and patches the holes in his pants and reminds him to wash up for supper.  He ‘yes, ma’am’s’ her more in a day than he’s ever ‘yes, sir’d’ Mulder in five months.

Jesse and Jimmy are often good-naturedly teasing Katherine like a little sister.  They challenge her into imaginary competitions like they bet she can’t drive the carriage in a circle around the barn or they bet she can’t make as good of an apple pie as Melvin or they bet she can’t catch all the suckling pigs in under a minute.  For her part, she seems to enjoy proving them wrong.

Melvin treats Katherine almost reverently, like a father would a daughter.  He speaks of her with pride when he tells Mulder of how she handles the carriage or how she’s put logical sense into the kitchen and the cellar shelves or how she read some beautiful verses from the bible to him.  He notices that Katherine also worries over him like a devoted child as well, telling him to rest more, to sit down, not to overtax himself.

It’s been harder for Mulder to pinpoint the relationship Richard has with Katherine.  Richard keeps to himself most of the time, but he has had the occasion to observe them speaking.  One particular time, they were both crouched low and Katherine was scratching at the dirt with a stick.  Richard was nodding thoughtfully and he moved away looking as though he was in deep contemplation.  Mulder asked Katherine what they were conversing about.

“I asked him to make me a washing line on a pulley,” she said.  “I was explaining where I wanted it, the type of pulley I would need and where the loosener should be fitted.”

“I’m sure he’ll build you a very fine washing line.”

“Oh, I have no doubt.  We were trying to determine which space might maximize efficiency.  There’s a lot to think about; which way the wind is likely to blow, the position of the sun, where to keep the wash basin and ringer, for example.  He’s going to think on it.”

So, Mulder determines that Richard thinks of Katherine like a colleague or an equal.  She’s the one person he’s ever asked for advice from.  If he runs into an obstacle, he seeks her out to talk it through instead of wallowing in self-loathing.  Perhaps if the army had been populated by Katherines, Richard would still be there.

He’s been too busy to take Katherine out on another picnic, but they spend almost every evening sitting on the porch together.  She is usually sewing and he tells her stories about the constellations or reads to her from his favorite book, Gulliver’s Travels.  It’s a good thing she seems to enjoy listening because he’s never met a silence he can’t fill.

He’s packing for the trek to Fort Worth and remembers that Katherine still has his valise.  It’s late, he wonders if she might be asleep, but he can see light coming from under the door, so he knocks quietly.

“Katherine?” he calls, as soft as he can in case he might disturb her.

“You may come in,” she answers.

He opens the door and then cuts his eyes away for a moment when he sees she’s in her nightdress and a robe, sitting at the edge of the bedstead.  “Oh, uh…”

“Yes?”

He looks at her and she’s combing her hair.  He’s never seen it loose before and it’s wildly curled, like endless fiery waves over her shoulders and down her back.  She always keeps it braided and he’s surprised she’s able to tame it so well.  

“I’ll be needing my valise.”

“Oh!”  She sets the comb down on the bed and goes to the wardrobe.  “I should have returned it to you weeks ago.”

“I’ll get you one of your own in Fort Worth.”

“What would I need with a valise?”

“For traveling.”

She hands him the valise and their hands meet on the handle.  She doesn’t let go.  “Traveling?” she asks.  “Am I going somewhere?”

“Maybe one day you might like to take a trip somewhere.  We could take a trip.  A honeymoon, perhaps.”

Her brow shoots up and she releases the valise into his grip.  He feels foolish for saying such a thing and bites his lip for a moment and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I only meant that maybe you’d like to accompany me when I need to return east some time.  We could stop in New York City.  See the electric bulbs in the park.”

“You would...you would take me east with you?  To New York City?”

“I’m needed in Boston from time to time and I would love to bring you along.”

“I would like that very much.”

“I wish I could take you with us to Fort Worth.”

“I wouldn’t be able to go anyway.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have my own valise yet.”  She smiles at him rather coquettishly and he chuckles.

“I will remedy that soon enough.  Do you think you might miss me when I’m gone?”

“I may not have time to miss you.  With half of you gone, I was planning to give the floors a good scrubbing.  Not to mention, Richard is installing my washing line and I hope to get all the bedclothes washed.  And of course there’s-”

“Alright, you can’t wait to see me gone and have me out from underfoot.”

“No, I…”  She pauses, drops her chin and cocks her head to the side just a bit.  “Keeping busy helps take my mind off things like missing people.”

He tries not to smile too broadly, but he knows the grin on his face must look foolish.  He bites his lip and nods.  “I’ll say good night, then,” he says.  “And I’ll let you get back to...your bedtime rituals.”

“Good night.  I will see you in the morning.”

He hesitates and then gestures a sort of farewell with the valise.  As he starts to close the door, he can’t help himself and he stops.  “I will miss you, in case you were wondering.”

“I suggest you try to keep yourself busy, then.”

He chuckles and closes the door behind him.

↭

Katherine is up early in the morning to make breakfast and to pack a nice noon dinner for Mulder, Jesse and Jimmy.  Richard, Trevor and Melvin will be staying behind at the ranch.  Even though she’s up before sunrise, the wagon is already packed and the horses have been saddled and hitched.  The men eat quickly, eager to set out on their journey.  Before they leave, Mulder pulls Katherine aside and gives her a bankroll.

“Don’t think I didn’t remember the first of the month is just a few days away,” he says.  “I assume you’ll want to head into town and see Mr. Skinner about the mortgage due.”

“This looks like more than we agreed to.”

“Well, call it an advance.  There’s a nice little cafe in town.  See if you can’t treat your lady friends to a noon dinner while you’re there.”

She crushes the bankroll in her fist and tries to think of a place she can keep the money safe.  He puts his hat on and then winks at her.

“Keep yourself busy,” he says, and then heads out into the morning light.  She follows to the porch to watch him go.

Jesse is driving the team of horses pulling the wagon and Jimmy rides next to him on the horse they call Faithful Jenny.  Mulder mounts Blondie and turns to give her a wave before he takes the lead on the small party and then they are off and she already feels a pang of longing for him to return.

The first two days, she keeps busy with the scrubbing she’d told him she wanted to do and prepares for a day of heavy laundry.  She helps Richard with the hanging of the washing line and with a few adjustments and tightening of the rope and pulley, it works as smoothly as she’d hoped.

On Friday, she dons the new calico skirt she’s only just finished sewing, a fresh blouse, a pair of black gloves she purchased at the mercantile but has not yet had occasion to wear, and ties on the hat that Mulder gave her the day they married.  She asks Melvin if he could hitch up the carriage for her and though she’s terribly nervous about her first foray into town by herself, she knows she can do it.  She’s put in a good amount of training with Melvin learning how to drive these last few weeks and there has to be a first time for everything.

Lady is ready and waiting with the carriage when she comes outside after having secured her money into a hidden pocket she’s sewn into her skirt.  She’s more afraid of losing the money or having it stolen off of her than she is for problems driving the carriage.

“You sure you don’t want me to ride with you?” Melvin asks.  “I can saddle up George and follow you even, if’n you’d like me to do that.”

“I’ll be fine,” she says.  “I’m just going to go to the bank and drop in on Mrs. Byers and Mrs. Doggett.  I’ve boiled some eggs and took out some canned pears.  There’s enough salt pork left to fry up.”

“Don’t worry about the kitchen today, go have yourself a nice time in town.  But, if’n you’re not back here before the sun drops west, I’m comin’ out there after you.”

“Lady, walk on now.  I’ll be back soon!”

She can scarcely believe she’s driving a carriage on her own, making her way into town, and yet she is.  Even Lady seems to sense her excitement and prances down the road in a nice, quick trot.  Katherine smiles when she passes the trees she recognizes from her picnic with Mulder.  Her arms are tired by the time she makes it into town, but she feels exhilarated by her accomplishment.

“Well done,” she tells Lady after tying her to the post and rubbing her cheek.  Lady nods and shakes her head.

The bank is busier than when she was there before.  The teller is assisting a man at the window and two others wait behind him.  One of them nods and tips his hat to her when she walks in.  She waits as well and looks past the line to see if she can spot Mr. Skinner, but his office door is closed.  She becomes a little anxious when she waits, not sure of what she is to say to the teller.  She thought she might just walk in and be able to speak with Mr. Skinner.  Soon, it’s her turn and she steps up to the window and then fumbles for the money concealed in her pocket.

“I am here to pay my mortgage due,” she says.

“Name on the account,” the teller asks.

“Um, Jack Willis, I believe.”

“One moment.”

The teller turns away and then opens a box.  He takes out a stack of small cards which he quickly shuffles through and removes one.  He returns to the window and takes up a pen that he dips in ink.

“Ten dollars and sixty cents,” he says as he’s writing on the card.

Katherine carefully counts out eleven dollars and then slides it into the tray at the window.  The teller counts it as quickly as he shuffled the cards and he puts it into another tray below the counter.  He slides forty cents change back to her and the card as well.

“Sign, please,” he says.

She hesitates with the pen in her hand.  She does not know what name to write.  Should she sign Katherine Willis, or Katherine Mulder?

“You can mark an ‘x’ if you are illiterate,” he says.

“No, I am not illiterate,” she answers.  “I was recently remarried, I am unsure if I should sign with that name.”

“Who’s your husband?”

“William Mulder.”

“Wait here.”

She begins to feel nervous all over again.  Another man has come into the bank as she’s been at the window and is now waiting for her to finish.  She doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know if she should leave and come back, but the teller told her to wait and so she waits.  She starts to perspire and she loosens the tie on her hat.  She whirls around when someone says her name.

“Mrs. Mulder,” Walter Skinner says.  “I’m glad you’ve come by.”

“You are?”

“I’ll take it from here, Mr. Crawford.”  He takes the card from the counter and gestures for Katherine to go ahead of him to his office.  She returns the pen and then goes with Mr. Skinner.  He makes an imposing figure and rather reminds her of her father, which makes her all the more nervous.

“Is something the matter?” she asks, taking a seat in front of his desk.

“Not at all.  Mr. Mulder was in earlier this week before his trip out to Fort Worth.  I just have a paper here for you to sign adding you to his account.”

“Adding me to his account?  What does that mean?”

“It means you are able to make deposits or withdrawals on your husband’s account, provided we have your signature on file.”

She stares at him, incredulous.  She doesn’t even know what name she should sign with to pay her mortgage and now she’s expected to have access to a bank account?

“I have my own money here,” she says.  “I don’t think I need Mulder’s account.  Do I?”

“He added your name on Monday and asked that when you came in to make the mortgage payment that I have you sign the paperwork.”

“I must confess this is all very new to me, Mr. Skinner.  I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to sign this card as Katherine Willis or Katherine Mulder.”

“That card just keeps a record of the payments.  My teller signs it saying he received the money and you sign it saying you paid it.  You don’t have anything to worry about there, but I think that you should go ahead and sign as Katherine Mulder from now on.”

She nods and he gives her a pen to sign the card.  It’s the first time she’s written her married name on anything and it feels strange.  She never did get accustomed to being Mrs. Willis, but when Skinner had called her Mrs. Mulder earlier, she answered without hesitation.  She hands him the card and he passes her the paper she’s to sign for Mulder’s account.

“And just so you’re aware,” he says.  “I expect the transfer of your lease to be returned by next week.  It will be filed under your joint account, so be sure to request the mortgage under your own name next time.”

“I will remember.  Thank you for helping me, Mr. Skinner.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Mulder.”

She leaves the bank with much less of a triumphant feeling than she felt in successfully driving the carriage.  In fact, she feels as though she has hardly taken a breath in that whole time.  She steps down to Lady and rests her forehead against the horse’s neck and strokes her mane.

“We’ve done it,” she whispers to the horse.

“Katherine?”

Katherine steps back from the horse and turns towards the voice that called her name.  She sees Monica Doggett hurrying towards her across the dirt road, waving to her.  She waves back.

“I thought that was you,” Monica says, greeting Katherine with a warm embrace.  “It’s so good to see you.”

“Yes, you as well, Mrs. Doggett.”

“Ach, Monica, please.  Mrs. Doggett is my mother-in-law and trust me, there’s only room enough in this world for one Mrs. Doggett.”  Monica laughs and squeezes Katherine’s hands.  “What brings you to town?”

“I had a banking matter to attend to.”

“Are you here long?”

“Actually, I’m glad I ran into you.  I wasn’t sure how to find you, but I was just on my way to drop in on Susannah Byers and I thought she might know.”

“We’re down on this road if you keep going over the bridge ahead.  Can’t miss it.  If I’m not there, it’s probably because I’m running something over to John.”

“I’ll remember that.  Mulder told me there was a cafe in town and I should invite you and Susannah for a noon dinner.  I’d understand if you’re busy with chores or errands though.”

“Are you kidding?  I would love nothing more.  And if I know Susannah, she will be absolutely delighted by the offer.  Is this your carriage?  Did you drive in all on your own?”

“I did.  Though Lady did most of the work.”

“How thrilling.  Shall we?”

Katherine climbs up into the carriage and Monica hops up next to her in the passenger seat.  It takes nothing but a few minutes to end up at the mercantile and Monica steps down first and waits at the foot of the porch steps for Katherine.

John Byers is standing before a display table with a clipboard and pencil, taking notes.  He smiles when the ladies come in and puts the pencil behind his ear.

“Good morning, ladies,” he says.

“Mr. Byers,” Katherine answers.

“We’ve come to collect your wife,” Monica says.  “You won’t mind if we borrow her for a bit to have dinner at the cafe, do you?”

“Not at all.  Let me go and get her.”

“Oh, how darling.”  Monica holds up a knitted pair of baby booties that she picks up from a table.  “Sometimes I sure can’t believe my little ones used to fit into socks this small.”

“You have children?”

“Two.  Luke and Sarah.  Sarah just turned nine and Luke will be fifteen in just a couple weeks.  Do you have any children?”

“No.”

“Well, there’s plenty of time.  And when that time does come, I promise I’m the best midwife all of Texas has to offer.”

Katherine gives Monica a polite smile.  “I’m certain you are.”

“Oh my word, is it true?”  Susannah comes bustling into the storefront, throwing off an apron that she carelesses flings in her husband’s direction.  John catches it with one hand.  “We’re going to go out to dinner?  Is that right?  Oh, let me get my hat.  John, how could you let me walk out without my hat!  I’ll hurry back.  Don’t go nowhere you two!”

Monica laughs and then winks at Katherine.  “I told you Susannah would be delighted.”

When Susannah returns, the three ladies head out of the store and Susannah leads the way down the boardwalk to the cafe.  Katherine worries a little about leaving the horse and carriage, but Susannah tells her not to fret that it’ll be fine where it is.  They’re seated next to a window at a table for four and after ordering some cold cut sandwiches and lemonades, Susannah and Monica start to gossipping about people Katherine has never heard of.  She’s content to listen to the conversation and doesn’t mind that she isn’t required to participate.

“Oh, but listen to us,” Susannah says.  “We’re being rude.  Katherine, I haven’t even asked after your husband or how you’re faring out on the ranch.”

“Mulder is well.  He’s in Fort Worth right now to take a team of horses to the United States post office.”

“You didn’t join him?” Monica asks.  “When John and I were first married, I’m telling you he couldn’t hardly walk down the road without pulling me along.”

“I’d much rather stay behind anyway.  There’s so much to tend to at the ranch and...well, the truth of it is, I would just like to stay put for awhile.  That was one of the reasons I married Mulder in the first place.  To just...to just stay still.”

“You did a lot of traveling around with your first husband, didn’t you?” Susannah asks.

“Too much.  In four years I don’t think we were ever in the same place for more than a few weeks.  And then we ended up here and it was like there was nowhere left to go.”  

Monica nods and then she reaches across the table and puts her hands over Katherine’s. “I did have the occasion to meet Jack Willis once,” she says, petting Katherine’s hand lightly.  “He had the blackest aura I’ve ever seen.  You must have been miserable.”

“It wasn’t a very happy marriage.  I don’t know what an aura has to do with that.  I don’t even know what an aura is.”

“Oh, Lord, Monica, not the auras!”  Susannah throws her hands up, but chuckles.

“There’s a belief that all people put off energy,” Monica says.  “Like a candle putting off heat.”

“Monica is an enthusiast of alternative ideas.”

Monica laughs.  “John was posted in San Francisco for a few years and I met the most fascinating people there that believe in some of the most extraordinary things.”

“We had a preacher come through here once that called her a heretic,” Susannah adds.  “In the middle of a sermon.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have become a preacher if he didn’t want to answer questions.”

Katherine looks between the two women and shakes her head.  “Energy is the quantitative property that must be transferred to an object in order to perform work on the object,” she says.  “Like measuring the temperature required to boil water.”

Monica glances at Susannah and she shrugs.  “I don’t know what any of that means,” Susannah says.  “I just turn the stove on and wait for the bubbles.”

“Have you ever gotten a bad feeling when you meet someone for the first time?” Monica asks.  “Or even a really good feeling?”

“Yes.”

“You’re feeling their energy.  Auras are like...I suppose they’re like a way of measuring a person’s disposition.”

“I don’t know how you would measure a feeling.”

“Auras are the colors of the energy that people put off.  Some people are lucky enough to see them.”

“And you’re one of those people?”

“I am.  Anyone can see them though if they want to.  It’s about opening yourself up to possibilities.”

“How does one open oneself up to possibilities?”

“I think it starts with inner peace.  Really letting go of fear and doubt and not worrying so much about the past or the future and being extremely present in the moment.”

“I see.”

“Your husband is mostly blue, but there is some red there too.  He’s very compassionate, loyal, trustworthy, and nurturing, but also driven and hard-working.”

“I don’t really think you need an aura to tell you that.  Just as I don’t think you need an aura to tell you that Jack was surly and unpleasant.”

“No, but I could tell right away, even without knowing you, that you and Mulder belong together.  You can’t tell me you weren’t drawn to him immediately, even if you didn’t know why.”

“I was intrigued by him, I will admit that.”

“And you knew he was someone you could marry even though you’d only known him for a day.”

“But, she didn’t really have much of a choice in that,” Susannah interjects.

“I did though,” Katherine confesses.  “He offered me money for my land, land I didn’t even own, and he said he would help me start out somewhere if I wanted.”

“And you chose to marry him.”  Monica smiles.

“He was kind to me when he didn’t have to be.  I know I didn’t know hardly anything about him, but still I felt...very fond of him.”

Monica nods knowingly.  “Your auras.”

“I’m a yellow,” Susannah says.  “But, Monica, you haven’t said what Katherine is.”

“Would you like to know?”

“You might as well tell me.”

“You are almost equally tan and crystal.  Which means you’re very private, cautious and practical.  And you’re a healer.”

All of those things are true, but Monica could come by those conclusions without more than a few minutes conversation with her.  The part about being a healer though, that is a little disturbing.  The waiter comes over with their tray of sandwiches and lemonades and the conversation falls to the wayside.  Katherine wonders what color Monica is, but doesn’t want to ask, lest Monica think she somehow believes in that kind of foolishness.  People emitting colors?  How absurd.

[highonchocolate]

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 3

First   Previous   Next   Ao3

Bruce sat at the head of the long oak dining table and waited for his children to make their way into the room for dinner. They came in as a staggered group; Jason arguing about some novel with Dick while Tim and Damian brought up the back as they discussed their patrol routes for the night. After Alfred and Damian helped serve the food, Bruce cleared his throat pointedly and waited for everyone to pay attention. 

Once everyone had looked up from their discussions he spoke. “Alfred has a friend named Gina; and she had called this evening to see if her granddaughter could stay with us. She lives in Paris; but her classmates were bullying her and her parents thought a change of scenery would do her some good. I have agreed to let her stay with us in the Manor.” Even before he had finished speaking the table erupted with different questions from his children.

“Bruce are you sure this is wise?” Tim questioned over Dick’s ecstatic squealing (“I’ve always wanted a little sister!!!”), and Jason’s grumbling (“Shut the fuck up Dickhead. I don’t know why the fuck B is bringing someone into this house to live with this dysfunctional family.”). Ignoring his siblings; he pressed on “I mean, how are we going to hide Batman and the vigilante stuff from her?” As Bruce paused to answer Damian stood up and scowled. “Tt. This is a moronic decision. Inform me of when this girl is to arrive and inform  her to stay out of my way.” He lifted his chin and crossed his arms before marching out of the room.

After Damian’s outburst, Jason looked over from where he was arguing with Dick and added his input “Timbo’s right, B. How are we going to hide that from her?” 

“We’ll have to make sure at least two of you remain in the manor each night so that she doesn’t get too suspicious.” He answered. “Now, the only reason I agreed to letting her stay here was namely for Alfred, and also because of what her classmates did to her” 

“What do you mean, Bruce?” Dick questioned. “Did they like assault her or something?”

“Or something” He responded grimly before sending the photo to all three of them. 

As they looked at the photo, he observed their reactions to the image. Dick was not smiling for once, and his sunny blue eyes had darkened to an icy frost. His whole body was tense; and his jaw was so clenched his teeth were grinding together. Jason was standing up with two guns locked and loaded in his hands. He had also managed to procure a knife from somewhere, which appeared as he leant forward and asked “What were the names of the people who did this again?” in a completely lethal tone. Tim, already hacking away at his computer responded “Not there yet, but from what I can find out, she goes to College Francois DuPont and she’s fifteen.” He briefly looked up and made eye contact with Bruce before asking “How fast do you think we can get our lawyers onto those kids B?” At the declarations of his children, Bruce closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “We can not file any lawsuits yet, not without Marinette’s permission.” He answered, sighing tiredly. “Marinette?” Dick questioned. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Tim responded instantly. “That’s her name.” 

“She will be coming on Monday, and Alfred will be picking her up from the airport. She is also going to attend GA, so someone please tell Damian.” Bruce said as he stood from the table. “Now hurry up, we have patrol tonight, and there have been rumors about a drug ring near Crime Alley.”

---

After coming back from the hospital and having a sleepover Thursday night, Chloé and Adrien were completely sleep-deprived as they trudged into school the next morning. Settling into her usual seat beside Sabrina, Chloé silently thanked all the Kwami that she didn’t have to sit next to Lila. Halfway though class, Mrs. Bustier suddenly frowned and looked at the back row. “Does anyone know where Marinette is? She still hasn’t arrived yet!”

“Probably still sleeping at home! She’ll come in completely late as usual!” Alya cackled. At her words, Chloé felt her entire body heat up with righteous indignity. She opened her mouth to tell that wannabe tabloid reporter to get her facts straight, but then Adrien caught her eye and shook his head. He then pointed at his phone, and mimed unlocking it before pointing to her. Catching the hint, she checked her messages to see that Marinette had sent them a text.

FashionableBug: Mari said to tell Chloé and Adrien not to do anything to Lila or anyone else that starts making stuff up. (From Luka btw)

You’reUnderAgreste: Me-ouch, My Lady. I would never!

QueenofMean: shut it with the puns, Noir. Maribug, I will only listen to you because you’re injured and I’m not going to go against your wishes.

Putting her phone away, Chloé resigned herself to a miserable school day. 

---

After school, she walked into Marinette’s room and flopped dramatically onto the chaise, before letting out a long groan.

“That bad?” Mari chuckled as she scribbled sketched one-handedly in her design notebook. 

“You have no idea.” Chloé responded. 

Their conversation continued into mundane things, such as everyone’s patrol routes, and various theories on who Hawkmoth was. Totally normal topics for teenagers. As the day drew to a close, they made plans for everyone to come over to start packing the next day before Chloé left the bakery and headed home.

---

Come Saturday, Marinette, Chloé and Luka spent the morning playing board games one handed “to level the playing field” as Luka put it and eating lots of cookies and pastries-provided by Marinette’s parents of course. Adrien and Kagami were attending their various classes until afternoon, so the remaining three spent their time relaxing, and coming up with a list of things to pack for Mari’s stay in Gotham. Two o’ clock rolled around, and the bells over the bakery jingled to announce the arrival of the final members of the packing committee.  

Any plans to begin their assignment of somehow fitting all Marinette’s fabrics into the suitcase were cut short by an Akuma. 

They all transformed, even though Kagami and Luka has been  extremely reluctant to let Mari go even though the suit temporarily healed her injuries. Climbing through her roof hatch, they set out across the rooftops to defeat their latest villain.

---

Five hours later, the teen heroes dropped into her room, and detransformed in various flashes of multicolored lights. They collapsed onto the bed and chairs and silently agreed to just  sleep , and get the packing done the next day.

---

All of Sunday was spent throwing various clothes and accessories into Mari’s pink and black suitcase. There were several sweaters and hoodies (added by Chloé), as well as several leggings and many thick pajama pants (Sabine).

Adrien (with the help of Tom) had somehow managed to pack over ten different pun-covered t-shirts, and by the time they were discovered, they had been buried under piles upon piles of fluffy socks from Kagami. Luka also threw in some scarves before Marinette added some toiletries, her sewing kit, and her computer.

Picking up the backpack she had decided to use as a carry-on, Marinette rifled through it to make sure she had everything in there as well.

Spare change of clothes in case she loses her suitcase? Check. Phone, headphones, and charger? Check. Sketchbook and pencils? Check. Disguised Miracle Box? Check.

She turned to her family (Not her teammates, not her friends, but her family.) and smiled. It was small, and bittersweet, but it was a smile. “Alright guys, I guess I’m all set.” She said, before joining them all in a group hug. They offered her soft, tearful smiles before Tom carried her big suitcase down the stairs. 

That night, Marinette fell asleep surrounded by all the people she loved, and she couldn’t have been happier.

---

The next day, her Papa carried her downstairs and placed her into her wheelchair (since she had a broken foot, and couldn’t use her leg, they had given her a wheelchair) before wheeling her outside and placing her into the car waiting by the street. 

Her friends were all inside, and she gripped Adrien’s hand tightly as they drove to the airport. 

As she stood to board the plane, she turned back to catch one last glimpse of them all. Chloé was leaning into Kagami’s side who was holding her girlfriend’s hand tightly. Adrien was waving wildly, and Luka and her parents all raised one hand in farewell. Her Maman and Papa has some red rimming their eyes, but they smiled at her as she was wheeled into the plane. Next stop: Gotham, New Jersey.

Since her flight left Paris at 10 AM, she was set to arrive in Gotham at around 12 PM/noon. With that in mind, she decided to stay awake for the entire flight so that her body could adjust better. 

As they crossed the Atlantic, Marinette, sitting in first class thanks to Chloé and Adrien’s combined nagging; popped her earbuds in, and began to sketch. 

She stared out the window as she touched down, shocked by all the dog and darkness in the city. As she collected her bags, and wheeled her way outside to look for her host family, she couldn’t help but notice how everyone in this city was much more on edge than most normal people. ‘They act as though they are expecting an attack at any second of the day.’ She mused to herself. Her train of thought was cut off by the sight of an elderly man with a powerful aura standing next to a limo with a sign saying “Marinette Dupain-Cheng”. She wheeled her way over to him and smiled brightly. “Salut! My name is Marinette! What is yours, Monsieur!” She questioned, holding out her hand for a handshake.

“It’s lovely to meet you Miss Marinette, my name is Alfred Pennyworth.” Alfred responded, smiling gently down at her. “Now let’s get you and your bags in the car, shall we?” He reaches out to shake her hand, and the moment their fingers touched her vision was filled with dark blue and red. She laughed and smiled up at him. “It is an honor to meet you, noble Peacock.” She greeted him in the Guardian language, honoring his position as a True Holder. “And it is an honor to meet you as well, Ladybug.” He answered. She grinned and allowed him to help her into the back of the limo before he climbed into the driver's seat and they sped off to Wayne Manor. 

---

When he saw the young girl, Alfred was shocked to say the least. She was roughly 5’ 4” (162.5 cm), and was very petite. Her stature, combined with her wheelchair, wrist brace, and the cast on her leg, all strengthened his resolve to protect the young girl from any further harm. That was only intensified when their auras recognized each other. How could anyone place the responsibility of upholding balance on such a young child? 

As he drove to the Manor, she informed him that the Cat, Bee, Dragon and Snake were active on her team. Before he could ask her what the threat they were battling was, they had arrived at the Manor, and she had immediately tensed and gone silent.

Deciding that it was better to ask more questions later, he got out of the car to retrieve her bags and chair. Master Bruce and three of his children except for Master Damian were waiting in front of the doors to the Manor, and they all waited patiently for her as she exited the car. 

---

Marinette was nervous. Sure, taking to Monsieur Alfred was really fun, and she couldn’t wait to tell him more about Paris, but now she was meeting her actual host family! What if they didn’t like her? What if they decided to send her back?! Then what would she do?? A small cough interrupted her downward spiral, and she looked up from her lap to see Monsieur Alfred waiting in front of the open door with her wheelchair. Grabbing her backpack, she awkwardly maneuvered herself into the chair and allowed herself to be wheeled out in front so she could meet Monsieur Bruce Wayne.

---

Note: Alfred doesn’t know that Marinette is the Guardian. He just knows she’s a Ladybug holder.

[pbandjesse]

Amazing news! The heat has come back on! It happened late this evening after we went to get some groceries. But it's not an ice box in here anymore. It's still cool, because the windows leak so much air, but it's much more comfortable.

Last night I actually slept mostly okay I wore very big fluffy hoodie my brother got me for Christmas a few years ago. It is the warmest thing for sure. Like wearing a blanket. And I did wake up cold this morning but James covered me back up and I was just fine.

I had a text from Alexi at 630 that camp was going to be closed for the day because the roads were unsafe and it was still snowing. Which was just fine with me. A free day off? Amazing.

So I slept until 9. And I felt pretty good when I woke up. I didn't want to grt out of bed but I was in a good mood and was happy to see James and Sweetp sitting in the other room. I could hear children outside laughing. James said they were the families who were attempting to sled yesterday and they were actually succeeding today. Good for them.

While I love looking at the snow, I had no desire to go outside. James would go for a very long walk around the city. And I'm glad they had fun but it was not something I wanted to do.

So after I was dressed I got cuddled up in bed with my tablet to draw. James warmed me up one of my leftover breakfast quesadillas and I had a lovely breakfast watching the world from the window and working on some drawings. I am working on my countdown project and it is just fun working on a new style.

James would leave for their walk but this was not just a fun walk through the snow. This was a walk with purpose. James was going to the bank to make the transfer for the down payment on our house. It makes me so nervous and excited I get a little nauseous. But like. That's wild! We only started this process really in October. We saw our first house on Halloween. And now we are on the eve of signing all the closing documents. It feels wild. But I'm so proud of us.

They would strike out at the first bank though. They were so busy after being closed yesterday the wait was going to be two hours. But the teller was really nice and called another branch and was able to get James in there no problem. So James's continued their walk and made the wire transfer and got the receipt and everything. And would come home before noon.

I was finishing up my drawing. And was feeling a bit tired. I was very cold. The heat was still off at this point and the space heater kept tripping and turning off. Leaving the bed felt impossible. I would just lay there and watch videos and bullshit around on my phone. I had lunch but I was just feeling. Bleh.

So eventually I decided I had to do something and I started working on the zipper pants project for my dad. Apparently he has not really been able to wear jeans since he got the prosthetic because the leg can't go over the foot. He saw a picture where someone put a zipper in the leg and that made it possible to open the zipper, put the pants on, then zip it closed. I would text him to confirm what would be more comfortable and we decided on the inside leg instead of the outside. I think it'll be easier to reach. And I cut and pinned those up. I was not up for actually sewing them because the studio was so cold but at least they are both ready to go and I'm very pleased with how they look. I will probably get those sewn up in the next week. While moving will be my first priority I will still have time. And I will get them done. And I really hope they work for him.

James would get in bed with me and they would read for a long time. And I would fall asleep. I don't think I was asleep that long. But my limbs felt heavy and weak after I woke up. James made me a peanut butter and jelly. Which did help but I was still struggling a bit.

James decided they would go to the grocery store. And I asked to come with them. Just to be out of the house for a little while.

James went down first to warm up the car. I got my shoes and my chapstick and headed down. On the drive there we discussed that Larry, the mortgage guy, sent James some documents and I was like. Why didn't I get any documents. Larry called me and I sent him an email back and he was just congratulating us and said we only need our IDs, our checkbook, the receipt from the wire transfer, and our energy and then put a smiley face and a whole bunch of exclamation points. I love how unserious everyone on our team is sometimes. Makes me feel more comfortable. I don't know why but I love that.

The grocery store was fine. We got everything we needed. We wandered around a little. We paid and headed home.

Where we found that the heat was back on and I was very excited about that.

James would take the trash down to the alley and we would start looking over the documents. We had some stress over our outstanding debts that we were able to work through understanding but it will be fine. I ended up calling my dad to explain a mistake we made but it's fixable. It also helped me sit down and work out my new budget now that we have actual numbers and I'm excited that it's $200 less then I had originally thought. So we are already doing better and I am proud of us. We will be able to have an actual emergency savings fund. And in talking to Jess we have an idea of what bank were going to use because it has a 4.5% interest. Amazing.

After going through all the house documents and making a phone call where I had to talk to a bank rep to get a new password for an account I was having trouble accessing, I was feeling good. Like the nerves are very high. But this time tomorrow we are going to have the keys to our new house??? Crazy. We will have to get the electric and gas set up in our names but I think it will go smoothly. And I'm just so excited and nervous and I have so many different feelings. It's great.

I would take a shower and asked James to please make up the bed for sleep now instead of later. Alexi sent us a text that work might be canceled again tomorrow because the roads might not be safe at camp. But my plan is to go to work in the morning. And leave with enough time to practice the commute to the final walkthrough. And then it's paperwork time. Which should take about an hour. James might go right back to work. I might go to the house and do more planning. We will just have to wait and see. I am so excited.

I love you all. Thank you for supporting me through this journey. Goodnight everyone! Until tomorrow!

[geralt-of-baevia]

Happenstance

Summary: Henry is about to go to bed one night when he suddenly gets a text from a random number he doesn’t know. What happens when you accidentally text the star actor of The Witcher? Memes apparently. Lots and lots of memes.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Lizzy Moore)

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: None...yet! Just some fluffy flirting. Well okay and lots of mention of his crotch? 😬😘

A/N: So I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my brain for a LONG time and finally pulled the trigger and wrote it! It’s in texting format, and I hope you like it! This is my first time posting fan fiction on here so I’m nervous and excited!

Beta: Thank you to @avengeful-bunny​ for being my AMAZING beta. I don’t know what I would do without you. 💛💛💛

Tagging: I’m going to tag all those whose work has inspired me to write and post my work! Much love to ALL of you! @littlefreya @dancingwendigo @mary-ann84 @yespolkadotkitty @viking-raider @cavillhoney

Part 1: Oops.

(405:) God, girl. You will not BELIEVE the day I had. I'm pretty sure I lost a pint of blood today from how many times I stabbed myself sewing. 

(405:)

(Henry:) You should probably get a thimble for that. 

(Henry:) Also, I do believe you have the wrong number. Considering you started the text off with 'girl' and I am quite the opposite. But even so, please spill the tea. I’m dying to know about this UNBELIEVABLE day you’ve had. 

(Henry:)

(405:) Oh my god, MR. CAVILL I AM soooo SO SO SORRY. I must have accidentally clicked on your name and not my friend's name. 

(405:) I feel really awkward having your number when you don’t have mine. Do you want me to delete it? Just to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Also so some random crew member doesn’t have your number?

(Henry:) Oh god, please call me Henry. There’s no need for such formalities. And it’s fine, there’s no need to delete it. Since you mentioned crew and sewing, I'm assuming you work for the costuming department? 

(Henry:) Also, I have your number now, don't I? :P

(405:) By it’s fine do you mean this kind of fine?

(405:)

(Henry:) Oh no, it’s LITERALLY fine. I promise. 

(Henry:)

(405:) But to answer your question, yes! I work for the costuming department. I’m newer, so I get to do the usual stuff. Mostly just lots of mending at the moment. And JUST TO BE CLEAR, I won't do anything to abuse this number since you're Henry Cavill.

(405:) And you’re Henry Cavill. Also you are my co-worker, my I’m assuming super rich, god tier co-worker that I’m not supposed to make eye contact with nevermind TEXT. 

(Henry:)

(Henry:) But yes, my name is Henry. Please keep my number, we’re coworkers after all, it’s normal for coworkers to have each other’s numbers. Have we met on set before? 

(405:) We have once or twice, just in passing mostly. Once I brought you clothes to your trailer.

(Henry:) Are you the one with the brown and pink hair? 

(405:) That's me. :)

(Henry:) Don't tell me your name, I know what it is. 

(405:) Are you sure about that? You don't seem too confident :P 

(Henry:) I know it starts with an E. Is it Eloise? Eleanor? I know it was something old fashioned, too.

(405:) Man, you're so close. I mean, kind of. Think of historical dead English queens. Like, for example you were best friends with her dad. You were a fancy Duke who was good with the sword and ladies. Also, I’m sorry, aren’t you supposed to be a big nerd?  

(Henry:) ELIZABETH! 

(Henry:) And I am a HUGE nerd thank you very much. 

(Elizabeth:) Yes, that's my name haha. Also, whoa whoa, settle down there cowboy.  

(Elizabeth:) And it’s just Lizzy, with a Y. The thought of spelling it with an IE makes me cringe. 

(Lizzy:)

 (Henry:) Pretty much everyone? Who doesn't call you Lizzy? 

(Lizzy:) My dad, my grandma, my teachers, my victims, my doctor, the one girl in high school who hated me. 

(Henry:) Haha that's quite the list there Lizzy Borden. I think it’s your turn to settle down. :P

(Henry:) Well then Lizzy with a Y, it's nice to finally talk to you, even though it's over text. 

(Henry:) So I have to ask, I take it they were cracking the whip pretty hard in wardrobe today? 

(Lizzy:) You know, I was doing what I thought was a pretty damn good job of avoiding that subject.

(Henry:) Nope, you can't slip past me. This brain is like an iron trap. 

(Lizzy:) If you MUST know...

(Henry:) I really do. I'm sitting on the edge of my seat in anticipation. 

(Henry:)

(Lizzy:) Okay well that just sounds sarcastic. I don't HAVE to tell you... :P

(Lizzy:) I'm kidding, kidding. Well, since you MUST know, I spent at least half of my day mending clothes, particularly the crotch of multiple pairs of your pants. Also a few pairs had the butt blown out. 

(Henry:) The crotch?

(Lizzy:) Yes, the CROTCH OF YOUR PANTS HENRY. :P Honestly I'm used to it at this point though. It's not the first time, or I'm assuming the last, that I'll have to mend the crotch of your pants. It’s not your fault the studio wants you in tighter fitting clothes that can show off how muscular you are. It’s just my job to fix it. ;) 

(Henry:) I guess I never really thought about who it was having to mend them when that happens. 

(Lizzy:) And it’s not just your crotch area I mend, it’s your inseams as well. I think your thighs got a little bigger since the initial fitting. :P

(Lizzy:) And yes, us little people taking care of you famous movie stars, making sure you stay looking like the heartthrob you are. Since that is your job and all. :P

(Henry:) Hey now, I’m more than just a pretty face. You make me sound like a talentless hack. But thank you. For your sake I'll try and not blow out any more seams, especially the crotch. 

(Lizzy:) You don't need to thank me, it's literally my job. ;) 

(Lizzy:) I mean, if your muscles didn’t rip through clothing on a regular basis I’d be out of a job!  How rude.

(Henry:) Well I mean in that case I COULD make it a habit. ;) 

(Lizzy:) All I have to say is I’m SO glad we don’t have to worry about shirt buttons on you during this. I’ve seen the stress you put on buttons during press junkets. The anxiety I feel, Henry. So much anxiety.

(Lizzy:)

(Henry:) Yeah, those shirts never seem to fit my chest right. I taught myself how to sew buttons on my shirts so I could stop asking others to help. 

(Lizzy:) Okay, the fact that you taught yourself how to sew on buttons because it’s a CONTINUING issue is both hilarious and adorable. :P

(Henry:) 

(Henry:) So I’m curious about something, costume wise.

(Lizzy:) Yes? I’m sure I can answer, costume wise. ;)

(Henry:) How long does it take to sew together a shirt from scratch? 

(Lizzy:) Well, it all depends on the type of shirt, and what it’s for. For the sake of film, there are so many steps. Design, pattern making, grading, construction, fitting. That’s just a fraction of it. It’s a very long process.

(Lizzy:) But if I was at home making a shirt for a friend, I could do it start to finish in a couple of hours. They're not hard. I can sew them together in my sleep.

(Henry:) A few HOURS? That's amazing. 

(Lizzy:) Eh, it's what I went to school for. ;) It’s not that impressive to me. 

(Henry:) Well, to me it is at least.  ;) 

(Lizzy:) 

(Henry:) 

(Henry:) Unfortunately, it's time for me to go to bed. I have an early call time in the morning. 

(Lizzy:) You're going to bed at 6 in the evening? I’m assuming you have a super crazy call time? One time I had a call time of 1 am because there were things that had to be fixed by the time you and Anya got to set at 4 am. Although it does have it’s advantages. I get to have the first pick of craft services, and sunrises are always nice to watch. 

(Lizzy:) But I’m sorry, that sucks. :(

(Henry:) Some days it does, especially when I can't seem to fall asleep. But today was exhausting so I don't think I'll have any issues tonight. Plus Kal has been extra cuddly tonight so I definitely won’t have any issues. 

(Lizzy:) Well then, I guess this is where we say goodnight. I hope you sleep well. :) 

(Henry:) Thank you. I hope you do, too. Hopefully tomorrow will involve less bleeding onto garments. ;P

(Lizzy:) Haha, I mean it really doesn’t matter. If anything it makes the garment just look THAT much more legit. I hope you have a good day on set tomorrow. :) 

(Henry:) Thank you. It was really nice talking to you Lizzy. I hope we talk more again soon. :) 

(Lizzy:) It was nice talking to you, too. And I would really like that. :) 

(Lizzy:) Goodnight, Henry. :) 

(Henry:) Goodnight Lizzy. Sleep well. :)

[thelastspeecher]

Stanuary ‘21 - Week Two: Sacrifice

I haven’t actually posted any writes here on tumblr with my Fashion AU, and I don’t think I’ve even really talked about it much.  So, why not use that AU for Stanuary?

What you need to know for this AU: Stan and Ford go to art school together (Stan for drawing - he wants to work on Lil Stanley, Ford for fashion), it’s a modern AU (aka they are born much later, becoming adults post-2000), Ford starts his own fashion brand, and Stan...well, you’ll see what Stan decides to do.

Enjoy.

———————————————————————————————————–

              “Son of a-” Ford muttered.  Stan looked up from his sketches.  They were both working on their school projects, though for once, Ford was swearing under his breath more than Stan.

              He’s still pretty new to sewing, that’s all. While Ford excelled at designing clothing, he struggled with actually creating it.  As Stan watched, Ford accidentally stuck himself with a needle again.

              “Fucking-”  Ford trailed off, mumbling darkly.

              “You all right there, Sixer?” Stan asked. Ford looked up.  “You keep swearing.”

              “Did I offend you?” Ford asked snidely.  Stan snickered.

              “Not even close.”

              “Well…”  Ford set the fabric on his lap with a sigh.  “I didn’t realize that going into fashion would entail making the clothing I designed.  If I’d known-”

              “You woulda chose a different major?”

              “No.  But I would have asked for sewing lessons from Mom.”

              “You’re in luck.”  Stan got up from his desk.  He walked over to Ford’s bed and sat next to his twin.  “Mom got sick of patching up my clothes all the time when we were kids, so she showed me how.  Hand it over.”

              “You have your own work to do,” Ford protested. Stan took the fabric from Ford. “Your studies shouldn’t suffer just because I can’t sew!”

              “Eh, I’m pretty much done with Lil Stanley for the day,” Stan said, shrugging.  “Gimme that.”  He took Ford’s needle.  Ford grumbled wordlessly, but wisely didn’t continue to protest.  “Anyways, here’s how you sew without sticking yourself every second.”

-----

              Stan stared blankly at the worksheet before him.

              Why the hell do I have to take a physics class? I’m here to work on my comic book. I don’t need physics for that! After a few more moments of trying to make sense of his worksheet, Stan gave up.  With a sigh, he turned to face Ford, deciding to finally ask for some help. If I fail outta this class, I’ll have to take it again and miss my chance for Advanced Character Design next semester.

              “Hey, Ford?” Stan asked.  Ford, who was once again sitting on his bed sewing, grunted wordlessly.  “You know physics, right?”

              “Yes,” Ford mumbled.

              “I’m stuck on my homework, think you could-”

              “Normally, I’d be thrilled to help you,” Ford said, “but I’m kind of in the middle of something, Stanley.”  Ford huffed impatiently.  “The last few times I’ve finished my design prototypes, they look all right on the hanger, but terrible on an actual model.”

              “Why don’t you put them on, then?” Stan suggested. “The person who was in this room before us left that full-length mirror.  You can look at yourself in that.”

              “That might work, but it would be exceedingly slow,” Ford said.  “I’d have to make marks, then take off the clothes to make adjustments, then put them on again, then make more marks, then-”

              “I get it,” Stan said, stopping Ford’s rambling. “You can’t mess with it properly if you’re the one modeling it.”  He frowned. “What about getting a mannequin?”

              “I don’t have the money for that!”

              “Doesn’t the fashion department have some?”

              “Yes, but I can’t take it home with me!”

              “Okay, okay, calm down,” Stan said.  He leaned in.  “Want me to…liberate one for you?”  Ford glared at him.  “No stealing. Got it.”  Stan glanced at his physics worksheet again.

              Honestly, being poked by needles is more of a good time than working on that bullshit.  Stan looked back at Ford.

              “I’ll model your clothes.”

              “Really?” Ford asked, his eyes wide.  Stan shrugged.

              “Sure.  Why not?”

              “Well, you have your own schoolwork to do…”

              “I can do it after.”

              “But I don’t know how long it will take for me to finish adjustments-”

              “It’s not like I’d be able to get much done without your help, anyways,” Stan said dismissively.  Ford chewed on his lip.  “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Ford.”  Stan got up and took the clothes from his twin.  He removed his shirt and slipped on the top Ford had been working on.  “Let’s be real, I was made to be a model anyways.”  Ford smiled faintly.  “Hand me the pants.”

-----

              Stan threw open the door to the dorm room he shared with Ford.

              “Guess who just got Lil Stanley in the school paper?” he crowed.  Ford, once again sitting on his bed attempting to sew, looked up.

              “Hmm…” he said, feigning thoughtfulness.

              “And don’t say that chick friend of yours who hates my guts,” Stan said.  Ford snickered.  “I’ve seen her sketch.  She can’t draw for shit.”

              “Congratulations, Stanley,” Ford said.  Stan preened.  “With all of your hard work, it’s definitely well-deserved.”

              “Yeah, my adviser says that if I keep working on it, I might be able to make Lil Stanley big.”

              “If you did that, it wouldn’t be ‘lil’ any more though, would it?” Ford asked.  Stan laughed. “Seriously, I’m very happy for you. I know that you never intended to attend a ‘fancy art school’ with me.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan sat next to Ford.  “But I like it.”  He eyed Ford’s latest project.  “How’s your clothes stuff coming along?”  Ford sighed heavily.  “Not well, I’m guessing.  Want me to try it on so you can make adjustments?”

              “I greatly appreciate the offer, but, no, my problem is different.  The person who was going to model this for my final got sick.  Now, I have to scramble to find someone.”

              “Doesn’t the fashion department have a warehouse of students to model?” Stan asked.  Ford frowned at him in confusion.  “I think the warehouse has some weird name, like, Theater Department or something like that.”  Stan elbowed Ford playfully.  Ford rolled his eyes.  “Am I wrong?”

              “No, you’re right, many of our models are theater students.”

              “Makes sense.  They like wearing weird clothes and being the center of attention.”

              “Stan…”  Ford shook his head, trying to hide his chuckle.  “Unfortunately, it’s finals for the theater students as well.  None of them have the time to model for me.”

              “I’m not a theater student,” Stan said.  Ford looked at him.  “I can model for you.”

              “Are you sure?”

              “I do it all the time so you can make adjustments on your stuff.”  Stan shrugged.  “It’s not like I’m walking down the catwalk at New York Fashion Week or whatever.”

              “Don’t you have finals?”

              “None of ‘em are tests.  They’re all projects.”

              “Have you finished your projects?” Ford prodded.

              “Pretty much.”

              “Stanley…”

              “What did I tell you about looking a gift horse in the mouth, Sixer?”

              “…Don’t do it?”

              “Exactly!”  Stan flicked the fabric that Ford was still holding.  “Make this fit me, and I’ll walk the runway.”

-----

              There was a ping from Stan’s computer. He minimized Photoshop and pulled up his email.  His mouth went dry.  It was a message from a publisher.

              Don’t get your hopes up, Stan.  You’ve only been getting rejections, this is probably just another one.  Holding his breath, he opened the email.  His jaw dropped.

              “We’re pleased to inform you…”

              “Holy shit!” Stan shouted.  He punched the air triumphantly.  “I did it!  I fucking did it!  I-”  A door slammed somewhere in the apartment, closely followed by heavy stomps.

              That can’t be good.  With a sigh, Stan got up from his desk.  He exited his bedroom, walked down the hall, and entered the living room.  Ford had thrown himself onto the couch face-down.  Sometimes I hate being right.

              “What’s wrong?” Stan asked.  Ford lifted his head.

              “You recall that I have my first show tonight, right?” he said.  Stan nodded. “Angie’s still on board to model the women’s line, but my male model…”

              “Let me guess.  He fell through.”

              “He went to a competitor who could afford to pay him more.”

              “Ah.”  Stan walked over to the couch.  “Scooch.” Ford obediently sat up and moved. Stan sat next to him.  “Remember what I did for you while we were still in school?  Before you managed to start your own fashion brand?”  Ford frowned at him.  “C’mon, Sixer, did you really forget?”

              “Are you…referring to how you modeled my clothing for my classes?”

              “Yep.”

              “You’re offering to model for me in an actual show?!” Ford asked, aghast.  Stan crossed his arms.

              “You don’t think I’ve got what it takes?”

              “No, not- I just- you don’t actually have any training on modeling!”

              “I’ll get Angie to show me.”

              “She despises you.”

              “Yeah, but you’re like, her best friend.  She’ll show me how to model if it’s for you,” Stan pointed out.  Ford put his head in his hands.  “You can’t let this chance pass you by, Ford!  This is your first show, it needs to go off without a hitch!”

              “Yes, but-”

              “No buts.  I’ll call up Angie, you work on altering those clothes of yours,” Stan said firmly.  Ford sighed. He looked at Stan.

              “She won’t pick up if you call.”

              “I’ll call from your phone,” Stan said, already grabbing Ford’s phone from the nearby end table.

              “Don’t spill anything on it or drop it this time, okay?”

              “You got it.”  Stan got up.  Before he had left the living room, Ford spoke.

              “Stanley?”

              “Yeah?”

              “…Thank you,” Ford said softly.  “I think you’re right.  This- this really is the only way for my show to not end in disaster.”

              “Of course I’m right!” Stan said dismissively. He threw a grin over his shoulder. “And it’s not a problem.  Not like I’ve got anything better to do.”  Stan headed for his bedroom.  Just as he pulled up Angie’s number to call her, his computer chimed again.  He sat down at his desk and checked his email.

              “Mr. Pines, please respond promptly so that we can set up a meeting for tonight to discuss publishing your comic. Unfortunately, if you are unable to speak tonight, we will have to pass on you as a comic creator with our company.” Stan’s heart sunk.

              “Really?” he whispered, staring at the email.  “That’s bullshit.”  Ford’s phone in his hand buzzed.  He glanced at it.  Ford had received a text from Angie, asking if he had figured out the male model problem. Stan looked at the email again. He swallowed.  

              If this is how they do business, it’s probably a scam anyways. Stan tried to push away the fact that he had sent Lil Stanley to that company because one of his professors recommended them.  Yeah.  Just a scam. Gotta be.  Ford’s phone buzzed again, this time with a call from Angie, rather than a text.  Stan picked up.

              “Ford figured out the model situation,” he said into the phone.  “I’ll be stepping in.  So, what kinda tips do you got for me?”

-----

              Stan tromped into his bedroom, still wearing the makeup from the show.  He threw himself onto his bed with a loud groan.

              Hours later, Stan was woken from his unplanned nap by Ford poking his head into the room.

              “Stanley?” Ford asked.  Stan sat up.

              “You finally got home, huh?”

              “Yes.  Sorry, I had to-”

              “Schmooze, I know,” Stan said, waving a hand.  He yawned and stretched.  “No worries, Sixer.  I get it.”

              “This time, I didn’t have to approach anyone!” Ford said excitedly.  “People wanted to talk to me!”

              “Hey, you’re making a name for yourself!  It’s about time people picked up on your genius. How many shows has it been now?”

              “Too many,” Ford said with a chuckle.  Stan grinned.

              “That’s great, Ford.  Really.  But, uh, I did all the work at the show, so I’m pretty beat…”

              “You want to go to bed.  I’ll leave.  We can talk in the morning,” Ford said, bobbing his head.  He paused.  “Don’t forget to wipe off your makeup before going to sleep.  It’s not good for your skin if you leave it on.”

              “I know, I know.  This wasn’t my first rodeo.”

              “Yes.  Correct. Well…good night.”

              “Good night,” Stan said.  Ford smiled again, then left, closing Stan’s door quietly behind him.  Stan got up, stretching again.  His computer dinged.  “What now?” Stan trudged over to his computer and sat down.  He pulled up his email.  His eyes widened.

              “We greatly enjoyed the materials that you sent us and would like to publish Lil Stanley as a weekly strip in our paper. Please respond if you are still interested in working with us.”  Stan grinned.

              Only weekly?  Perfect.  That sounds like the kinda commitment that I can still do modeling with.

                He began to draft a response.  

              After all, who knows what would happen to Ford if I wasn’t there for him?

[niksixx]

Homecoming

Requested: By a lovely Anon! 

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Female Reader 

Description: “I’m sending an ask now for tomorrow (12th) bc I’m in a different time zone and don’t wanna miss the first day submitting requests because I love your writing so much! Can you do a Nikki x Reader, of Nikki having been on tour, and when he gets back he’s missed the reader so much that all he wants to do is please her, and he asks her to ride his thigh and then his face? Ahhh! With lots of dirty talk and praise. Thankyouuuuu”

Warning: Smut

A/N: If you enjoyed this, leave a comment! 

*GIF is not mine, credits to the owner*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten more minutes, just ten more minutes Nikki thought to himself, eagerly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. It had been a long seven months of touring different cities in Europe, and though Nikki was living the dream with his three best friends, there was a woman waiting for him at home who he could not wait to see.

The calls, the texts, the sexts, nothing compared to seeing your face and holding you against his chest. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on your body, his mouth on your sweet lips. Just thinking about all the sex he’d be having to make up for lost time caused him to groan loudly inside his car as the fabric of his jeans constricted against his tight bulge.

As your house came into view, goosebumps littered Nikki’s arms. Intense excitement coursed through his body. Nikki wanted his homecoming to be a surprise, so he had given you a fake return home date when you’d called him the week prior.

With suitcases beside him and other bags slung over his shoulders, Nikki quietly fished for his key, gently turning it in the knob before pushing the door open. The house was unusually quiet, and for a moment Nikki thought you may have gotten stuck at work, but when he heard the shower running as he approached your bedroom, his face broke out in a smirk.

He perched himself on the bed just as the water shut off, clasping his hands together between his legs. Any second now…

Nikki’s heart raced as you stepped in the room, body covered by a towel as water droplets slid down your body. Looking up from the floor, you immediately let out a scream, running forward and tackling Nikki to the bed.

“Oh, my god! Baby, what? You’re here!” The words came rushing out of your mouth, smushing together in one erratic sentence. Never in a million years did you expect Nikki to surprise you, but boy were you glad he did. “How is this possible?”

“I was always coming home today,” Nikki grinned, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Sitting up off the bed, Nikki adjusted you against his lap. “How are you, baby girl?”

“A lot better now,” you admitted, the tears in the corners of your eyes betraying you. It had been so long since you last hugged your boyfriend, felt his skin, touched his hair, kissed his lips. The last few months had been so lonely with just you at home, trying to come up with new ways to distract yourself. You cooked, painted, learned how to sew, but none of those activities made the time pass. “I’ve been so lonely without you, Sixx. I know touring is your job, and no one supports you more than I do, you know that baby, but it’s been hard for me.”

Pulling you against his chest, Nikki buried his face in the crook of your neck, the fresh scent of soap filling his nostrils. “I’m here now, love. I promise. And I’m not going anywhere for a long time, so you’ll have me all to yourself.”

You hummed against Nikki’s head, the soft sound sending a rush of blood straight to his cock. God, he couldn’t wait to completely ravish you for hours. Seven months without sex? How the fuck had he managed that?

“I haven’t even been able to…you know…please myself properly,” you whispered, cheeks burning as Nikki’s jaw clenched. To your surprise, the towel wrapped around you had been peeled off by Nikki’s hands, and now you were perched against his jean-clad thigh, completely exposed. Your bare clit brushed against the rough fabric, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“Don’t you worry,” Nikki said, lips brushing against yours as his hands squeezed your hips. “I’m gonna take good care of you.” His hands guided your hips in a slow back and forth motion, a harsh breath escaping your mouth. You held on to Nikki’s shoulders as your hips followed his motions, the feeling of the crisp material meshing perfectly with your delicate clit.

“That’s right, baby, keep that pretty pussy right here for me,” Nikki was an expert at dirty talk, always had been. He never held back either, always whispering in your ear with his low, gravelly voice. “How’s that feel, baby?”

A hushed moan, followed by a drawn out “fuck” was the only answer you could manage. It pleased Nikki to see you get off on just his thigh. It was something you’d never tried in the bedroom, but now it was the only thing Nikki wanted to do. He was fully clothed himself, but seeing his woman, his sweet, beautiful lady, naked and writhing as her pussy rubbed against his thigh was the best sight to come home to.

“Nikki, fuck, faster,” Pleading wasn’t something you found yourself doing much with Nikki. Occasionally, he’d make you beg for it, whether it be his fingers or his tongue, but for the most part, Nikki didn’t play games when it came to sex. “Please, please, faster.”

Nikki gripped your waist tighter, fingertips digging into your skin. Hard enough to keep you steady, but not enough to cause you pain. Your head fell back in total pleasure, a groan slipping past your mouth as that familiar ball of pressure built up in your lower stomach.

“Oh God, Nikki, I’m gonna come,” Pushing forward, desperate for a release, you rubbed your clit harder against his jeans, collapsing into Nikki’s arms as your orgasm rocked through your body. You rode out the high, juices sliding down your thigh and staining Nikki’s pants. You glanced up from the wet spot on Nikki’s pants, the lust in his eyes making you hot all over again. “Holy fuck, I needed that,” you said, flashing a satisfied smile. As you went to stand and clean off your legs, Nikki pulled you toward him.

“I’m not finished with you yet,” Desire dripped from Nikki’s voice as he pulled off his shirt, licking his lips as he lie on his back. “Come sit on your throne, princess.”

His voice alone sent jolts of electricity through your body. With shaky legs, you crawled up Nikki’s body, positioning your pussy at his mouth. A squeal fell from your lips as he pulled you down to his mouth, his warm tongue darting up and down your pussy skillfully. As Nikki feasted on your body, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling gently, which you knew he loved.

“The sweetest pussy I’ve ever had,” The quick flits of his tongue drove you wild, the vibrations from his voice sending you into a frenzy. “So fucking good, baby.”

Aside from today, the last time you had experienced an orgasm was the night before Nikki left for tour. It’d been a night of sensual foreplay and making love until three in the morning. After he left, you found it extremely hard to get off. Vibrators, dildos, and even your own fingers didn’t seem to do the trick. But now that Nikki was back, you were on the brink of your second orgasm.

“You ready to come for me, sweetheart?” Nikki asked, sucking your clit between his lips. Your face scrunched as Nikki flattened his tongue against your pussy one last time. “Come for me, baby.”

And his words had you come undone. Your legs shook violently as your second orgasm crashed over your body, whimpers leaving your lips and Nikki continued to lap at your clit. After what seemed to be a minute-long orgasm, you buckled next to Nikki, sweat coating your body.

“I am so glad you’re home,” you said, finally catching your breath.

Chuckling, Nikki gathered you in his arms, lovingly kissing your head. “Me too, pretty girl, me too. I’ve missed you,” he stated honestly. “And since I’m not going anywhere for a very long time,” Rolling on top of your body, Nikki kissed your lips before reaching a hand between your thighs, fingers gently rubbing your sore clit. “I’m going to please you. All. Night. Long.”

And as his fingers dipped between your slick folds, you knew that Nikki would be determined to give you one more orgasm until he was completely and utterly satisfied. And you? Well, you didn’t mind one bit.