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hertzwritings · 2 years

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Dance (part 2 to Fever)

A/N: what can I do, the sweet @one-sweet-gubler asks and I’m soulfully bound to do it. Thank you for your request, love!

Request: Hear me out… part 2 to fever. Daisy has a ballet recital and she really wanted Henry there but he’s out of country filming and she thinks he can’t make it. But you and Henry have a little trick up your sleeve. Or something. Idk. 😭

So here goes, part two to Daddy!Henry - who would ever say no to do that??

Remember, feedback feeds the soul, loves, and requests are always open - nothing is too out there for me, so let me know what you’ve got in mind!

MASTERLIST

HENRY CAVILL + CHARACTERS MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Previous part

Pairing: Henry Cavill x reader

Warnings: FLUFF, teeth-rotting fluff, StepDaddy!Henry, just all in all a sweet, fluffy piece with maybe some implied smut, if you squint really hard. Word count: 2.676

A year later

Daisy danced around the living room, her pink tutu flopping around her tiny legs, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you held the phone up to film it. She grinned at you and bowed down before looking up at you. “I see?” She asked, her chubby fingers reaching for the phone to see the video.

You smiled and handed her the phone, looking at your daughter as she scrutinised the video and made sure that everything was perfect.

She had wanted Henry to come to the recital, but he was in Scotland filming pick-up-shots of The Witcher and couldn’t make it back - you had seen how much it broke his heart to tell her in one of their daily video chats, but she had simply kissed the screen and said okay and that mama would film it. She made you promise that you would film every, single second, and you had happily obliged - not just for you or Daisy, but for Henry, who had become such a common part of your life, it was scary.

It had been almost a year since the first time he met her, and he had fallen in love with Daisy just as easily as he had stepped inside Y/N’s house. He acted like a dad. No bars held, he had dance parties, tea parties, pirate-parties (which you had questioned, but had simply been told by Henry with a patch over his eye and a foam sword in hand, that you wouldn’t understand the law of the sea) and had taken her to him as if he had known her his entire life. Daisy rarely wanted you to read bedtime-stories anymore, unless Henry was away for a shoot, because that was his job - and he had happily done it every night he could, and you were sure there was a small indent in Daisy’s mattress from where he spent most nights.

You hadn’t really talked to him about it, the whole idea of being a stepdad, but he very much had fallen right into the role with no problem. He made blueberry pancakes in the morning and had even started picking her up and dropping her off at kindergarten whenever Y/N had a rough morning or was late for work. It was magical, even with the teachers falling over their feet when they saw Henry Cavill hand in hand with your daughter, some sort of glittery sticker stuck on his cheek or pants. He didn’t care that he might look stupid: He once came back home with a full Prince Charming outfit and had shrugged at your dumbfonded expression, telling you with a smirk that Richard Madden knew someone. And so, he had spent a majority of the last three months dressed as Prince Charming, bringing your daughter teacups and teddy bears at her demand. “Mama, you think Henny like it?”Daisy pulled you from your thoughts and you looked at her - her lips quivered and her eyes were wide. “Oh, baby, he’ll love it. I promise.” You said, engulfing her in a tight hug. She sniffled slightly and pulled away, looking at you. “I miss him.” she said in a small voice, the one that was reserved just for you, whenever she wanted to tell you a secret. You smiled and ran a hand over her hair softly. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.” You answered honestly. It had been hard over the last month, especially since you were both used to him being around all the time, and now he’d been gone for a month and all you had was video calls from him. Daisy sighed and swayed a little on her feet. “What’s going through your head, princess?” You asked gently, trying to coax her to tell you whatever made her look like a lost puppy. She shrugged. “Now, don’t do that to me. What’s our rule?” You said and made her say it with you. “No secrets.” You sat down with crossed legs in front of her and she practically ran into your lap and sat down, her small hands around your neck as she buried her face in your chest. “What’s going on, baby?” “I dunno.” she said, her voice muffled by your shirt. “That’s a lie.” “Yes.” you sighed and pulled away slightly, forcing her to look at you. “You can tell me anything, you know that right?” She nodded seriously. “Then tell me what you’re thinking about.” She grimaced. “I just really, really, really want Henny home.” she finally said. You knew she wasn’t telling the whole truth, but you also didn’t want to pressure her - she’d tell you if she wanted to. “How about we try calling him before we go, Daisy?” you asked, pulling your phone out and speed dialling his number as she nodded vigorously. He answered on the fourth ring, his face popping up - Daisy squealed and waved wildly, almost taking your eye out. “Easy, tiger.” You muttered. “How are my favourite girls?” His voice rang out through the speakers and you felt a deep gratitude for the man, who smiled from the screen. You loved him deeply. “Henny!” Daisy grinned at him and stood up, clearly showing her outfit off. “I got dance today!” she said happily, bending down slightly so her face was on the screen as well. “Aw, darling, you look beautiful.” He said with a soft smile. You frowned as you took in his surroundings - or, rather, the lack thereof. “Where are you, love?” You asked. He grinned. “The car. We had to move location, so I’m driving there.” you nodded. The blackness around him made sense. “Henny, Henny, Henny, wanna see?” Daisy jumped up and down, her tutu flying everywhere. He chuckled and you shook your head lightly. “One move, we gotta go soon, okay?” You said sternly to your daughter, who just squealed and stepped away from you to do a very fast - and somewhat unstable - spin on her feet, before doing a small jump. She looked adorable. “Oh, wow! I wish I could see it in real life.” He said and clapped. You could hear someone whooping and grinned. “Tell Carl hi.” The driver, Carl, had followed Henry and at this point, Daisy knew him as Uncle Carl. He was there most of the time and always brought some weird, stuffed animals with him - you had to make an

entire section of your living room a stuffed animal kingdom with the weirdest animals, because Carl truly knew how to pick them. “Ucnu Carl!” She screamed happily. A deep voice sounded from the speakers. “Hi, Daisy-flower. Good luck tonight!” Carl’s voice rang out and you smiled happily.

When you had started dating Henry and later introduced Daisy to him, you didn’t expect a full, extended family to come along - but it had, and you were eternally grateful for it. Daisy felt more love every day than you could’ve ever hoped for. “Thanks!” She said happily. “Daisy, go grab your shoes, alright?” You asked her as you stood up, smoothing down your dress and looked at Henry. “I’ll send the video in a bit. She’s very proud of it.” You said softly. He smiled. “Can’t wait, love.” You sighed. “We miss you. I miss you so much.” you said quietly. He smiled sadly. “Miss you too, love, but I’ll be home before you know it, alright?” You nodded, feeling your heart tug a little. You wished he’d be able to come home earlier. “I love you, Y/N.” He said softly. You grinned. “And I love you. I better go before she does one of those fancy jumps and trash the vase, your mom sent me.” He rolled his eyes. “As if you’d mind. You hate that vase.” You shrugged and winked at him. “Daisy, love, come say goodbye to Henry!” You yelled and Daisy came out, her pink, glittery rubber boots on the wrong feet and her jacket haphazardly thrown over her shoulder. She waved and took the phone, hugging it tightly. “I love you!” She said happily and handed your phone back. Your eyes were wet, just as they always became when she said those three words to Henry. He was choked up as he blew her a kiss. “I love you, pumpkin.” he blew you a kiss as well. “See you soon, my love.”

—-------------------

Daisy was nervous with a capital N - she was jumping from one foot to another, wringing her hands out as you kneeled in front of her. “Baby, your teacher is right there, okay? I’ll be right down there, watching every second. I promise to film, okay?” You said, your heart tugging a little at the thought of leaving her alone. She nodded with wide eyes. “Promise I can see you?” She asked in a small voice. “Of course, honey.” You nodded. “I’ll be sitting so you can see me, okay?” She nodded and you caught her teacher’s eye, who smiled at you and walked to you and Daisy. “Come on, Daisy, we’re meeting and doing a big group-hug!” The teacher, Ms. Landam said brightly. Daisy threw her arms around your neck and squeezed tightly. You hugged her back just as tightly and finally let go, waving softly at her as Daisy grabbed her teacher’s hand and went to the group of other kids.

As soon as her back was turned, you hurried down from backstage, finding the seat that was reserved for you - you heard mumbling and a few excited voices, but didn’t think much of it, as you sat down next to a broad, tall man. You wrung your hands as you looked to the stage, anxious for it to start.

A big hand found yours and you blanched. “I’m sorry…” You started, turning to the tall man, but your words died in your throat as you saw who it was. Suddenly, the voices and whispers had made sense. “Henry!” You gasped his name and practically tackled him in his seat. He chuckled and hugged you tightly. “What the hell are you doing here? How?” You asked breathlessly. He smiled widely and leaned in, kissing you softly. “I couldn’t miss her first recital, are you kidding? The earth would have to swallow me whole to make me miss this, and maybe not even then.” He said, weaving his fingers with yours. “Oh, my god, she’s going to lose her mind.” You grinned. “Wait, how, though? I thought you were in Scotland?” He grinned and kissed the back of your hand.

“I caught a redeye and Carl and I have been driving all day.” He said, nudging his head towards the seat next to him, where Carl sat with a wide grin on his face. You felt tears well up at the gesture. “Oh, I don’t even know what to say. I love you.” You said meekly. “It’s not not enough to describe what I’m feeling right now, but holy shit, I’m going to show you my appreciation as soon as we’re home..” You said with a grin. He bit his lip and cocked an eyebrow at you. “I’m counting on it.”

The lights in the hall dimmed and you turned to face the stage with a giant grin and Henry’s hand in yours as the curtain went up, and 12 four year olds entered the stage, all nervous energy. Daisy instantly searched for you and her eyes found you quickly - and then they fell on Henry, and the most dazzling smile, you’d ever seen, fell on her lips, she waved wildly and grinned at you, pointing to Henry and then she saw Carl next to him, and jumped up and down giddily.

The recital itself was wonderful. Daisy did really well, twirling and grinning all the time to the tune of Faust and you had clapped wildly, drying your tears quickly, as they finished. You were incredibly proud of your little girl, and to your surprise, Henry had wiped a tear away as well, his chest puffed out with pride. When the lights came on, a man tapped Henry on his shoulder with a shy smile. “I’m sorry, could I…?” He pointed to his phone. “My friends won’t believe me if I don’t have proof.” Henry smiled graciously and nodded, lining up to take a picture as you waited for Daisy to make her way down to you. “Which one is yours? I didn’t know you had a kid.” The man asked. Henry grinned proudly and pointed to Daisy, who was running down the stairs from the stage. “That little fireball.” Henry had answered. You smiled softly. He saw her as his.

“DADDY!” She shouted and almost jumped into Henry’s arms, hugging him tightly. You both stared at each other as he held her tightly. He looked like he had been hit by a grenade, eyes wide and mouth agape. You reeled, trying to collect yourself slightly. He hugged her tightly, burying his face in her curls and you were sure you saw a few tears fall from his eyes. They stood there for a while, hugging tightly and you saw your chance to grab Carl and hugged him. Henry didn’t look like he ever wanted to let go of Daisy, holding her like a drowning man would cling to a liferaft, and your heart felt like it was about to pop out of your chest at the sight; Daisy’s small legs were around his waist, her arms around his neck and her face buried in the crook of his neck. “You came!” She said happily and Henry caressed her face softly and kissed her forehead. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He answered, lowering her to the ground. His hands were shaking. Daisy ran to you and you picked her up easily, wrapping her in your arms. “You did so good, baby!” you said with a smile. Daisy grinned and waved at Carl, who waved back and told her congratulations. “I didn’t fall at all!” Daisy bragged before squirming to get down from your arms. You let her, and she grabbed Henry’s hand with her smaller one, leading your variegated group out of the theatre. You faltered as you saw the car - Henry had not pulled any stops, because he was walking happily towards a limousine, opening the door gracefully for Daisy, who squealed and jumped inside. “MAMA! Come look!” You raised your eyebrows at him and narrowed your eyes. “What did you do?” You asked. He grinned mischievously. “Nothing.” “Liar.” You said and got inside. At first, you couldn’t even see Daisy.

The entire inside of the limousine was covered in red and pink roses (thornless, of course), daisies, teddybears - you noticed a pink dragon, you were sure Carl had picked out - candy, several princess-dresses and a heap of other things. Daisy was laughing loudly, picking different teddies and hugging them, glancing at you. You turned to Henry, who came in behind you and he grinned widely. “What? After such a good performance, it would be a crime not to get her anything.” He said, grabbing Daisy by the waist and placing her in the toddler-seat, he had installed. You rolled your eyes. “Normally, that’s one flower or one teddy. Not five thousand.” you said, but couldn’t help but smile.

“What can I say, I just… I wanted to treat her.” “More like spoil her.” You said before kissing him. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” The car moved and Daisy told every single thing she had done on stage, as if you both hadn’t been there. He had wrapped his hand around yours and found your eyes.

“What am I going to do with you?” You asked softly. He kissed you - Daisy giggled - and he smiled at you. “Just let me be here, forever. I think that’ll do.” “As long as you’re okay being daddy.” His smile was dazzling and he reached for Daisy’s hand - she grabbed his and held tightly. “There’s nothing I’d rather be.”

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TAGLIST:

@acaceta @summersong69 @luclittlepond @keiva1000

@a-skov @thatonechickhere @themanfromu

@spookyboogyuniverse @one-sweet-gubler @timetraveller4

@angelmather1 @kebabgirl67 @yourlocalhoney

@fionnthebandersnacc @herroyalbubbliness @thelastpyle

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #the witcher #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x female ofc #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x reader fluff

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sweetlemontart · 2 years

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miss keiko, i have a random question! it's okay if u dont answer :D but what course/programs do you think would nct dream members have in uni or college if they're not idols? and if a member would be in varsity or sports scholarship

Ooo fun little question u got hereee, okay so this is just my opinion so don't take it to heart,, and this will be based on just my personal opinion and like some stuff I've heard them say and the stuff I've seen them do and sh*t so pls don't take it too seriously ^-^

Mark: I think I remember him saying he wanted to be a writer?? Idk I'm not sure whether that's true but judging from the poems he posted on his insta, he might be interested in that kinda thing so maybe something about literature?? perhaps even something that has to do with songwriting cause we all know his lyrics are just owooo

Renjun: obvi bcs one of his biggest hobbies is drawing, i'd say he would prolly major in something artsy, but also didn't he practise contemporary dance and ballet? but I guess that's still kinda in the art category, I think he's a super expressive person so prolly majoring in something that's kinda in that creative field

Jeno: i'm tempted to say he'd wanna become an actor bcs of those commercials he did when he was smol but i'd just be lying tbh, apparently jeno was a rlly smart kid in school with rlly good grades, and some articles state he wanted to study architecture?? but they also say jeno was really good at sports and honestly that was the first thing that came to mind as i was writing this cause have u seen the guy? every sport just comes so naturally to him, like how?? a sports scholarship would probably be very likely for him tbh

Haechan: this little extroverted pudu would probably major in music, right? he's an attention wh0re so he'd probably wanna work in a field that requires him to constantly work with other people or requires him to,, like, be the centre of attention, ya know? a singer? that's inevitable when his voice and confidence are just so 💯

Jaemin: my baby, my love, my soulmate, Na Jaemin, he's such a caring person I just love him so much, his love for helping people is just so endearing to me, and he did say he dreamt of becoming a surgeon, right? so he'd probably go to med school, and honestly, idk,, his story always just makes me kinda sad, the fact that he dreamt of being a doctor but was pushed into becoming an idol is just... kinda tragic, idk sorry it just breaks my heart a little, but I'm glad he's now able to work with the other dreamies who care about him so much bcs he deserves it, he deserves so much love <33333

Chenle: wasn't he a child star?? lmao like he had predebut albums and everything, right? chonlo our little child prodigy lmaoo i think he has always wanted to go down this path of becoming a singer, and honestly, he probably would've done fine as a solo singer without even going to college lmao but like, yeah definitely majoring in music i reckon

Jisung: I struggle thinking about this one, but he was kinda like chenle, no? like a child star kinda, cause he did appear in some kids' shows, but i don't really know whether he planned to become an idol or something else, but I guess since he was already active in shows and starred in a couple of movies when he was a kid, he probably knew he was going to end up becoming an artist or a performer or something in that industry, so maybe majoring in something that would lead him down that kinda path

#sorry if u wanted something more specific #but it's just so difficult for me to pinpoint like one thing each of them would major in ya know?#so i just made it kinda vague #i tried my best to answer tho so i hope that's enough lol #if u disagree with something i said or wanna add anything or something feel free to tell me :D #thanks for the ask bestie #anon #ask

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thechosenferret · 4 years

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Okay I just need to spam with all the things I could finalllly notice in Hamilton soo

The way the show portrayed time by having two different scenarios being sung about during the same time yet through slowly walking down stairs and stuff they’re both passing at different times

A main one is when Angelica comes back to America and does that by slowly descending the stairs.

The way the lights went out on Phillip when he died

The blue light on John during the interlude.

Just the entire cast, they were all so fabulous

And everyone behind the scenes, just absolutely wowe

How the ensemble had so many different outfits yet they all looked like the same outfit if you don’t pay attention, but they add sooo much more to the world

Very theoretically, would Hamilton be alive if at the very beginning of the dual he rose the pistol at the sky instead of a last second choice? So burr knew he wasn’t gonna kill him in the end.

The ensemble was absolutely wonderful. I love them all, they deserve so much praise. I am very gay for all of the girls in it, especially the top left one. Again, they were all so bloody amazing, I cannot stress that enough.

Also they are all much much gayer on stage, especially Laurens

Those very long glances and looks at Hamilton while the rest of the squad looks elsewhere. That’s gay, son.

Hamilton swipping away a tear as he goes into Non-stop.

Jonathan Groff’s expressions being fabulous when he physically cannot move under the weight of his costume

But also when he took off his crown during the second act to go mayhem with the other, perfect.

Props to him he absolutely controlled the stage up there

And Leslie Odum Jr. Just wow, seeing him made Burr just so much more,,, Burr. Ya know?

I never noticed how sick and stiff Madison is during the show, but everything made so much more sense after realizing that

Another of me not realizing things is the line from My Shot “Enter me, he says in parentheses” is a reference to a script where (Enter me) is referring to ham entering into the revolution and stuff. My brain just didn’t catch that.

On the same note, lots of the lines now have a million more reasons behind them when you can see them deliver it, especially with Burr.

In the first act, I can’t remember who was the amazing soul who did it, but on the second story stairs he jumped up onto the middle of the railing and was having a good old time

Also I really wanna know how they handled the fire, cause it looked like they slipped the extra papers into a different spot in the bucket so that they only burned the single paper.

The way Burr posed in the spotlight after The Room Where It Happens with his fingers pointing down, directly opposite how Hamilton points up. Wowe

Lin’s voice gets really deep whenever he’s tearing up and sad, and it hurt so much more.

The main cast slowly appearing in their white outfits from the start after they died

How, especially in Your Obedient Servant, they separated the songs from what was currently happening ever so slightly so that instead of them singing what he was writing, he sang what he wrote as he signed it off and sent it away. Idk why I like this so much I just do

Of course Ham’s lists slowly making their way to Burr and the ensemble member’s face when she joked with him on the last one!

Ham’s fists were clenched so so much.

Jefferson kept making me smile after sad things with just himself and his wonderful dance moves.

Speaking of dance moves, the chOREOGRAPHY WOW

The small pieces of ballet thrown in, mainly with that one ensemble member.

At the very end when Anthony Ramos was in the second story on the stage, he had to portray both Laurens and Phillip so he showed himself as Laurens and then spun into a spot next to him where he then represented Phillip.

The lights. Just wow. The square lights. Wow. Everything about the lights. Wow

Also I 100% teared up during the first song. I have absolutely no shame about that.

#as you can kinda tell i un really like theatre #like i really would like to go into theatre as a job #imma rewatch it tomorrow probably and add more #hamilton #hamiltonfilm #hamilton musical #hamilton the musical

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danny-chase · 3 years

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Hello, are there any Cassandra Cain fans/stans that could help me out with her characterization? I’ve just started to get into writing fanfiction (I haven’t posted any, and am working towards getting more confident with writing the characters in general so hopefully I’ll post some someday) and I haven’t been in the fandom long. Cass is a confusing character for me to write, mostly because I feel like she’s written differently in everything she’s in. And her personality absolutely got erased and overhauled in the New52. I’ve read some of her Batgirl run (it was awhile ago ngl) and I read the storyline where she was introduced in the New52 and the Rise and the Fall of the Batmen (I think that’s the arc she’s involved in with Detective Comics). Idk, more under cut.

My goal in writing Cass is to make her seem like a real person and I’m drawing more on pre-New52 than post-New52. I feel like she used to have so much more to her than just being like a perfect person and the sweetest person in general. Not that she can’t be sweet (I love cinnamon bun Cass too), but she used to have much more grit to her personality it seems like. I’m blending the two personalities, and I’d really like to focus on her love for dance, it’s one of the changes I really liked, and of course her connections to her siblings because I love sibling dynamics. Currently I’m working on a fic where she ends up dancing with each of her siblings. I like the idea of writing her as a bit snarky or sassy (the kind of person that just stares at you with the “really” expression when you do something dumb), more introverted, a bit of a little shit, self deprecating, but genuinely kind hearted, driven, and a perfectionist. I also don’t want to write her as being a magic character that instantly knows what’s wrong with a character. Yeah, she can read body language, but her family is good at hiding things, they’ve been trained recognizing body language and I’m guessing some of them have worked to have good control over their own. My interpretation is she can tell what people are feeling but not why, and how they’re going to move. I’ve written a little bit of the fic so far (um please don’t feel obligated to read through it, any comments on how you think Cass should be written is helpful) so I’ll post it below. Thanks for reading this far if you made it XD.

I don’t have a title for this lmao but the fic starts here:

“Hey.” Dick gently placed a hand on her shoulder as he hopped down from his spot on the water tower. “You know who’s my most favorite, strongest, most beautiful, spectacular-”

Cass groaned; he was making the face. He was wearing his Nightwing mask, but as she turned to look, she could already tell he was making the face. Dick ignored her groans and continued “-most perfect, amazing, gorgeous, sweetest, nicest, kindhearted, thoughtful-”

Cass pulled away; she would not be doing what he asked. Nope. The last time she heard Dick talking like this, Barbara ended up agreeing to dog sit for Titus. The dog chewed everything in the clocktower; they were still finding ripped up socks in various locations. “He’s so well behaved” he said. “It won’t be for that long” he said. “You’re the best thank you so, so much” he said. On the bright side, Dick had bought her new ballet shoes to replace the ones Titus tore through. But they’d taken weeks to break in and-oh he was still talking.

“-smartest, wisest, funniest, loveliest, badass, awesomest, funnest-” Cass placed her hands on her hips and stood up to meet him. The stakeout had been going fine on her own, at this rate she probably didn’t need his backup anyways, so if this was something stupid, she could always tell him to leave. She gave him her best “bat-glare” as he continued to mumble on compliments. “fantastic, reliable, trustworthy-” his voice grew smaller as she continued glaring. He cleared his throat “sister of all time?” He finished.

Cass sighed and leaned back against the tower’s support. “What do you want?” Dick gave her a weak smile, embarrassment radiated off him. That couldn’t be good.

“Look, I’ll cut to the chase.” Thank heavens for that. “But like, just know I love you so much.” Cass wished she could stick her tongue out, maybe the domino mask was the way to go. She settled for lightly shoving his shoulder. He grinned at her, doing his best to seem casual, but slight tension in his neck gave away his discomfort. Dick was always hard for her to read, he was a performer from birth, and had excellent control of his posture and facial expressions. He gave himself away in movement, in the lack thereof. He could paint the perfect mask, but it slipped slightly when he moved. He was nervous, anxious, exasperated, and worried. Cass was intrigued.

“What is it?” She said, more gently than before, turning back to watch her mark. She could hear Dick let out a deep breath.

“It’s Da-Robin. He got invited to a formal.” Cass turned back and cocked her head. “Don’t give me that look, you know how he is.” He said, shifting his weight. “It’s a school event, so they’ve been learning ballroom dance in gym. But I got a call the other day from the gym teacher saying he’s not participating.”

“Why should he?” Cass asked. “You shouldn’t force people to do things they don’t want to do.” Living with the family long enough had taught her that. If the kid didn’t want to dance, he shouldn’t have to.

“Yeah, I know.” Dick replied a bit flatly. He moved to crouch where she had been sitting and focused on the building across the street. “But I don’t know if he doesn’t want to, or if he’s just embarrassed.” Cass thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose he grew up with many dance lessons.” He added a bit apologetically. She shook her head.

“Have you talked to him?” She asked. Dick sighed.

“I tried. But he kept switching topics and when I pressed it, he locked himself in his room. Which is why I’m concerned.” Cass hummed in affirmation. It made sense.

“Why haven’t you tried teaching him?” Dick wasn’t a bad dancer, and he’d always performed quite well at the galas.

He looked back at her sheepishly. “I gave it a go last time I was at the manor. But he stormed off before we could get anything done. Something about me being an embarrassment to the family.”

Cass rolled her eyes under the cowl. “What did you do?”

“I just wanted to do some jazzercising to warm up, what’s wrong with that?” Dick spluttered in response. Cass lightly smacked the back of his head. “So anyways, I lost my chance at it. I can’t even play music without him running away.” He continued, ducking away as she tried to tap him again. “Besides, you’re probably a better height to practice with for him.” She scoffed in response.

“When’s the gala?” She asked. It slipped out without her permission. She wasn’t getting involved. The kid could figure it out on his own. Couldn’t he?

“It’s next weekend.” He replied and sighed. “I don’t want him to miss it. He never does stuff that’s age appropriate.” Oh, no. Not that card. Cass would not be involved, she had work to do. She stepped back to lean against the tower again and bit her lip. “And some girl in his class asked him to go. Her name’s Maps and she’s a really good influence on him.” She crossed her arms tighter. Damian was rude to her. He called her Cain. Not. Getting. Involved. “She’s so energetic, it helps him loosen up-” Damnit.

“Fine.” Dick whipped around to look at her, not bothering to hide his disbelief. She squirmed internally. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the kid. It was just easier to spend time on her own. The kid was better off without her influence anyways.

“Are you sure, I could ask Steph or I don’t know-” He continued.

She cut him off. “I’ll do it. I don’t mind.” The others wouldn’t work. Dick knew that going into the conversation. They were too…loud in their judgement. Steph would laugh at the wrong time, Tim would say the wrong thing, Jason didn’t have the patience for the kid’s temper, and Duke would be a safe bet, but was away on Outsider business for the next two weeks.

Dick practically melted in relief. “Thank you so-”

“You owe me, big brother.” Cass reminded.

“Anything you want, little sister.” He promised. “Are hugs acceptable as a down payment? I could kiss you right now.”

“Eww.” Cass made a face under the mask but strode forward as he opened his arms and stood for a hug. He eagerly wrapped her in a bear hug. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re winning sister of the year award.” He said as he released her.

“You’re making me cookies.” She retorted. Dick grimaced.

“Can I buy them?” He asked hesitantly. She shook her head.

“Homemade, with love. And I’m watching.” She added, smirking under the mask. Dick sunk back down into position.

“I’ll do my best.” He promised. Cass snickered. The last time Dick tried making cookies, he apparently caught his oven mitts on fire. There was still a bit of cookie dough on the ceiling he hadn’t noticed yet.

A flash of movement jolted her back into reality, their mark was making his move. She shot her grapple, and Dick quickly followed suit. “I’ll text you the plan tomorrow.” He promised as they leapt into the night.

Thanks so much if you read this far, and please comment or send me feedback directly if you have the time and don’t mind. I’m sorry if you completely disagree with how I characterized her (or Dick/Damian for that matter) I’m mostly relying on Damian’s canon interactions with her and Dick’s half canon half fanon personality (I know they don’t get on great in the comics...but sibling dynamics) and the rest of this portion of the fic would focus on Damian earning more respect for her (and learning to call her Cass - not Cain).

#i don't know how i feel about posting this #this is the first time i've posted some of my writing #and it isn't betad or anything #please help me #i don't know what i'm doing #i don't even have an AO3 account cuz i'm such a noob #it's gonna take time #a whole lot of precious time #but someday i will hopefully post a fic or two #if i ever finish one of them...#cassandra cain #batgirls #batfam #batman #dc #black bat #orphan

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7to3sorcerer · 3 years

Text

Of Waltzes and Sugar Plum Fairies

rating: explicit hehe

word count: 11.5k i am so sorry

warnings: fluff! angst! daddy!kink if you squint, loss of virginity, uhhhh sexy times? porn WITH plot because i can. this is truly filthy and totally self indulgent, enjoy at your own risk.

a/n: ok so first fic on here, yay! also, i recommend visiting this page to give you some context about Arkanians if you don’t know about them. idk if the nutcracker exists in star wars, so just go with it. listen to this if you wanna get immersed in the sounds of the dance scene.

ao3 link here

Din Djarin knew exactly what he was doing bringing her to Chandrila in the winter.

His princess - a literal one at that - from Arkanis, had missed the taste of home. Not in so many words, but he could tell by the wistful look on her face whenever they passed a shop with dancing gear or a music store.

He also knew that Life Day was her favorite holiday.

“It’s perfect,” she had said one day in the cockpit, her eyes starry as she watched the planets fly by. “You just spend the day with your family, dancing and eating and celebrating. Some cultures even give presents.”

He didn’t know what to say to that then, just gave a grunt and kept his eyes on the nav chart.

But since that day, he’s thought of what that would be like, spending a Life Day with his foundling and his crewmate who he wished would be so much more.

Ever since she dropped everything and ran off with him and the child, his life has been so much...brighter. Full of color when she skips around the ship, the child in her arms as they play dress up with her seemingly endless wardrobe (Din still doesn’t how she manages to keep her quarters clean). It’s full of sound when she plays her holorecords from her favorite ballets, the child following behind her as she does allégros and arabesques.

When she agreed to join his crew to take care of the child and give her extensive knowledge of cultures and history that she gleaned from university, he also made a pact: he would give her firsthand experiences of the galaxy that her life as a royal had robbed her of.

Her first wish was to visit a cantina, a wish that was fulfilled within her first three days aboard the Razor Crest. Though the dingy, thin clothes she bought from a merchant blended her in well, her stark white hair, white eyes, and ethereal beauty caused a bar fight, one that may or may not have ended with Din breaking a man’s arm, simply because he looked at her suggestively.

In the year that she’d been traveling with him, he’d tried to accommodate her wishes as best as he could, but with the Empire constantly on their trail, their time had mostly been devoted to tracking down the child’s people. But it seemed that the galaxy was on his side for once.

Life Day was rapidly approaching, and Din was scrambling to try and make it special for her, and with the information that Bo-Katan had given them about Ahsoka Tano, Din was torn about what to do. That was, until he charted a path to Corvus and realized it sent them right by Chandrila - the dance capital of the galaxy. A couple of holonet searches later, and he found a showing of The Nutcracker.

He knew it’d make his princess happy, he just didn’t know how to tell her that there weren’t anymore tickets left. He wasn’t surprised really, after all, it was already Life Day Eve, and he knew The Nutcracker was wildly popular, even though it was a Wookiee ballet that was centuries old.

The rapid beeping of the proximity indicator dragged him out of his thoughts. He disengaged and the ship lurched into real time, the blue streaks of stars fading into black mottled with blinking white. He made up his mind in that moment. Squaring his shoulders, Din set the ship on autopilot and made his way down to the cargo hold.

Stopping in front of her room, he could hear giggles and her soft voice as she spoke to the child.

“...and then he transforms into a handsome prince, and leads Masha away into the forest!”

He hears the child giggle again, and can only assume they’re playing with the wooden toys she had crafted once while bored when Din was on a hunt.

Steeling himself, Din knocks.

“Hey, we’re landing...put on something...nice,” he says through the door. He moves to return to the cockpit when the door whooshes open, revealing the princess’s glowing smile.

“Why?” She asks, her eyes wide.

His hand itches to brush the wisps of hair that got displaced from her bun when the door opened.

“I um, I have a surprise,” he says tentatively, suddenly feeling unsure of himself. He shifts his weight as she turns to the child.

“You hear that? Daddy has a surprise for us!” She coos, sweeping him up into her arms as he laughs. She turns back to Din.

His stomach does flips hearing that word come out of her mouth, no matter how innocent the context.

“Well, what is it?”

“That kind of ruins the point of the surprise, don’t you think?” He says, a hint of humor in his modulated voice. He finally gives in to his urges and gently tucks he hair behind her slightly pointed ear.

Din’s heart feels as though it might burst out of his chestplate as she tries to hide her blush behind the baby’s ear, playing it off as though she’s giving him kisses. She hums before looking back up at Din.

“Okay, well what should I wear?”

“I don’t know, something nice.” It comes out a little rough, and Din mentally kicks himself, seeing her face turn into a slight frown.

“Din, I’m a...” she pauses, covering the child’s ears before continuing. “I’m a fucking princess, Din. You can’t just say ‘wear something nice’ expect me to know exactly what you mean by that.”

He huffs. “Move.”

She complies, and he enters her small quarters, stepping over the various toys that litter the floor. He opens her closet, running his gloved fingers along the plethora of lush fabrics inside.

Life Day, Life Day, Life Day, he thinks to himself. What colors go with Life Day?

He pauses on a silky green gown, thinking about how good it would contrast with her skin tone. He hesitates a moment before removing it from the hanger and holding it out to her.

“Here.”

She sets the child down before taking it from him and examining it, a slightly confused look on her face.

“Din, this is...this is one of my nicer ones. Are we doing something quite fancy?”

He says nothing for a moment, watching the way her milky eyes scan the dress before deciding on his answer.

“I just think...that it’ll look good on you,” he says, so quietly that the modulator barely picks it up.

Her head shoots up to stare him straight in the visor, the very faint grey of her irises making her expression unreadable. Everyone likes to think he’s intimidating, but they’ve obviously never never made eye contact with an Arkanian. Arkanians that belong to the oldest bloodlines have pure white eyes, but if you catch them in the right light, you can barely make out grey irises and darker grey pupils.

Experiencing second thoughts, Din quickly exits her room without another word and the door whooshes shut again.

He leans on the wall next to the ladder leading up to the cockpit feeling like he’s just run a marathon. His heart races as he begins to worry that he was too forward.

“Fuck...” he mutters, leaning his head on the wall behind him. “Too late now I guess.”

Sitting back down in the cockpit, he guides the Crest into the docking bay that air traffic control instructed him to, and sets the ship down as gently as possible, not wanting to disturb anything the princess may be doing to get ready.

If she’s even getting ready at all, his conscious supplies. She’s probably gonna bolt as soon as the cabin depressurizes.

But as he descends back into the hold, he’s pleased to hear her puttering around in her room. He checks the time on his chrono.

“Hey, I’m going out for a few. I should be back in a bit...make sure you’re ready by then, okay?” He calls out, holstering his gun and attaching his jet pack.

Something in her room clatters to the floor, causing her so let out a string of curses. He hears her give the child an apology, who just giggles in return before he himself gets a response.

“Yeah! Sure, sure, yeah I’ll be ready!” She says from behind the door, but her voice is unsteady, like she knows she won’t be ready in time.

Din just huffs out a slight laugh before exiting the ship.

...

He returns to find her heels click clacking back and forth between the ‘fresher and where the child sits perched on a box, wiping his face down with a rag and the spots of food on his clothes. She turns to Din, who stands just inside the ship, a dumbfounded look on his hidden face.

Her hair is in a low, loose bun with a few pieces of hair framing her face that he can only assume came out while she was getting the child ready. The matte maroon lipstick she wears gives the allusion that she’s much older than 23, but the subtle blush and highlight adorning her cheeks and nose do well to bring back her youthfulness.

“I tried to get him cleaned up as best as I could. I also fashioned this little hat to fit his head as best I could. I don’t want him to be spotted, and I know it’s cold out there,” she rushes out breathlessly, running back into her room and grabbing the beanie and smushing it on the child’s head. “I know it’s not perfect, but I just want us to be able to have one night where we’re not constantly looking over our shoulders.”

She runs back into her room and returns with a small scarf, wrapping it around the child’s neck. Din wants to reassure her that everything’s okay, but he’s speechless, admiring the way the silk hangs on her body, accentuating her curves. His eyes are first drawn to the slit that exposes her leg almost to her hip when she bends down to pick up a toy the child dropped.

She speaks again, but he still can’t answer. He’s transfixed by the way the neckline plunges down her sternum, just shy of where her ribs start. Her tits are unbound, supported by the fabric that stretches up and over her shoulders, turning into yards of thinner fabric that cinch the dress up across her back. The straps criss cross her exposed back and end in a bow just below the dimples of her lower back, highlighting the expanse of tight muscles that she’s earned in her tenure as a crewmate, and from her earlier days as a dancer.

He watches as that enticing triangle of missing fabric on her chest gets closer and closer until it’s right in front of him.

“Hey, laser brain! Are you listening to me?” She says, waving her hand in front of his visor and snapping him out of his trance.

“What?” He asks, his voice cracking and making it sound like he hasn’t had anything to drink in days.

She huffs, before saying “I was asking if you were ready to go.”

“Oh,” he coughs out. “Y-yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Are we taking the pod, or just carrying him?” She asks, holding the child on her hip.

He thinks a moment before saying “The pod.”

The princess sets him in his pod before slipping on a long black coat and following Din out of the ship. They head out into the busy streets, the child floating in between the two of them.

“Soooooo,” she drawls out, clasping her hands and giving Din doe eyes. “Where are we headed?”

“Uh uh,” he tuts. “Don’t even try that on me. That’s cheating.”

“Why?” She asks, jutting her lip out. “Because it works every time?”

“Yes,” he sighs. “Because it does work every time.”

She just hmphs and says nothing else as they walk along the sidewalks dusted with a light covering of snow. The streetlamps above cast an orangey-yellow glow on the pedestrians that pass them, many of them carrying parcels covered in paper, or large sacks filled with delicious smelling food.

The child makes grabby hands at some of them and the princess chuckles. Din glances over at her and sees the corners of her eyes crinkle as she laughs. They make eye contact for a brief moment before she looks at something above his head and her eyes go wide.

Din flinches, looking up for the threat, but all he sees is snowflakes beginning to fall from the sky. He looks back down at the princess and watches her stick out her tongue to catch a snowflake. They make eye contact again, but this time, she doesn’t look away. She keeps her tongue out until a small fleck of snow lands on it, then she pulls it back into her mouth. She throws him a sideways grin and then looks away, facing her eyes forward.

Din feels his hands get clammy as blood starts to flow south. Fuck, nononononononono, he thinks, balling his hands into fists and trying to think of literally anything else besides they way that snow looked on her tongue. He grits his teeth and looks around, hoping they’re close to the theatre. Thank the Maker.

Just ahead across the street sits the theatre, its twinkling lights and marquee sign dazzling in the white snow. He peeks at the princess without turning his head, and comes away satisfied when she doesn’t seem to notice it yet. He quickly grabs her elbow and pulls her into an alleyway on their right, covering her mouth with his gloved hand when she lets out a yelp.

“Do you trust me?” He breathes out, his chest mere inches away from hers. She nods her head and he lets go of her mouth. He looks down and presses some buttons on his vambrace, quickly recalibrating the child’s pod before shutting its hatch. “Hold onto me.”

She arches her eyebrows before stepping forward and pressing her chest against his, hissing at the frigidness of his beskar against her clavicle. She wraps her arms around his neck as he hooks an arm just below her ass.

“Din...” she warns, not sure where this is going.

“Just be quiet and hang on.” He commands, and with that, they shoot up and into the sky, the baby’s pod going up with them. He feels the princess bury her face into his cape and groan. In his excitement about the surprise, he forgot she doesn’t care for heights.

They land on the rooftop of the theatre, his knees and his back protesting from the extra weight that he’s not used to. Din gently sets the princess down and opens the child’s pod to make sure he’s okay. He smiles up at Din, who waggles a finger in his face.

The princess still hasn’t let go of Din, and Din still hasn’t entirely let go of the princess.

“Hey,” he says softly, and she pulls her head back from his shoulder but keeps her eyes squeezed shut. “It’s okay, we’re done with the flying.”

She exhales a breath he didn’t know she was holding and lets go, opening her eyes. Din reluctantly lets go of her and she takes a step back, looking at their surroundings. The faint sound of instruments taking their final warmups can be heard through the duracrete below them, and the princess finally puts two and two together.

“Din,” she gasps, shaking her head and covering her mouth with her hands. “You didn’t...that’s like, impossible. These are impossible to get. There’s no way...”

He grimaces behind his helmet and sighs. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I couldn’t. But I came by earlier and figured out another way for us to get insi-oof.”

He’s cut off when the princess envelops him in a hug so tight, he feels his back creak in objection.

“I thought you forgot a-about Life Day,” she says into his neck. “You didn’t have to do all this. N-no one’s ever-”

This time, it’s his turn to cut her off. He gently pulls her back until he can see her face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“You can thank me later...it’s cold out here, and we don’t wanna miss the show.”

She nods and sniffles, dabbing under her eyes and motioning to the roof access. “Lead the way then, captain.” She says with a blinding smile.

A wall of warmth greets them as Din slices the door open. He glances around to make sure no crew members are up this high before motioning the princess in. The door zips shut behind the three of them and they’re sheathed in darkness, save the warm glow coming from the theatre below them. Catwalks stretch out in either direction, one going across the crowd, the other going adjacent to it toward the stage. They have to be at least 20 meters above the crowd.

The princess rushes toward the railing on the catwalk above the crowd and peaks down and Din finds himself surprised she’s not fainted yet. She answers his question before he asks it.

“This, I’m fine with. What I’m not fine with is careening up 100 feet into the air and 60 miles an hour with no warning and no seatbelt,” she says, fixing him with a glare that could cut durasteel.

This time, he doesn’t hide his chuckle, moving to stand next to her as she removes her coat and drapes it over the guardrail. He leans against the railing, the child floating just to his left, the princess on his right.

“You’re sure no one will see us up here?” She asks, lowering her voice as the lights begin to dim and the music starts.

“Would you be looking up to the rafters during this show?”

“Fair point, but I meant the dancers...”

“No, I think we’ll be fine, it’s dark up here.”

She just nods in return and keeps her focus on the stage as the curtains draw up and reveal the setting of Act I.

Din looks down at the child whose eyes light up at the glimmering tree on the stage. Underneath it sit huge presents wrapped in patterns of paper that Din couldn’t even think up. Multicolored garland hangs from the windows on the backdrop. Fairy lights dangle from the ceiling, bathing the stage in a magical light. He sees the children on stage laughing with each other as their parents dance to the music and suddenly feels the urge to cry,

His heart sinks at the thought that he could’ve had all this if the Separatists hadn’t invaded Aq Vetina that fateful day - and maybe he did have all of this, he just doesn’t remember. Did he have brothers and sisters? He hardly even remembers what his parents look like, just blurry features, sad eyes as they locked him away in that cellar to save him. What did he used ask for for Life Day? Did his parents dance with each other like that?

Resentment burns so hot inside of him that he has to tear his eyes away from the ballet and stare down at the crowd below. He grits his teeth and wills the tears threating to fall away. His bitterness flares briefly toward the princess as he catches the gleam in her eyes, the joy on her face as she looks on with glee as the act progresses. But it fades as quickly as it grew, his features softening under his helmet.

Who am I to be spiteful toward her for something I had no control over?

He looks down at the stage again, having not even noticed that Act II began. The music crescendos as the Nutcracker, having just turned into the Prince, begins to dance with Masha. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the chlid giggle in delight.

Just because I don’t have happy memories of my parents, doesn’t mean he can’t. Woah shit wait fuck. No, Din, shut the fuck up and don’t overthink the weight of that.

Carefully, Din removes both of his gloves and tucks them into his belt before gently resting his hand on the princess’s lower back.

He feels her gasp before she melts into his touch. She looks over her shoulder at him, the light from below causing her features to look sharp and dangerously beautiful. He leans forward so that his helmet is right next to her ear.

“Show me how you’d dance...if that were you on that stage down there,” he whispers, and this time the modulator doesn’t pick it up, so all she hears is his raw, unfiltered voice.

The princess looks up at his visor and smiles before nodding enthusiastically and backing away. She leans down and ties her dress in a knot at her knees before unbuckling her heels.

Din finds himself thinking that she wanted this all along, that she was made for this. His little wild fairy, stripping herself of the titles and the pageantry, barefooted and relaxed with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

She hasn’t taught him much, but he’s tried to listen as best as he could when she’d be doing a routine on the ship.

That’s a pirouette...I think. Okay, okay, plié. That’s first position? No...? Okay, yes, that was first position because this is second position, and now she’s in third.

Din finds himself swaying back and forth and nodding his head to the sweeping instrumentals, and the princess seems to smile when she notices this. She completes an attitude devant before slowing and giggling at him.

“What?” He asks, not quite laughing, but the smile in his voice is evident.

She just shakes her head, her own brilliant smile still plastered on her face before holding out her hand.

“Come on...look, he wants you to,” she says, pointing at the child who has long forgotten the ballet below, instead focusing on the ballerina in front of him.

Din watches the child for a moment more before pushing himself off the railing and taking her outstretched hand. He would be lying if he said this wasn’t the outcome he was hoping for, but when she pulls him into position, he realizes he’s in way over his head.

“I...I really don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing...” he murmurs, trailing off when she places his hand on her waist, his fingertips meeting the bare skin of her back. She grabs his other hand and holds it up at a 90° angle and it completely swallows her own. He watches her eye their conjoined hands for a moment, an almost awestruck look on her face.

“I’ve never...I’ve never touched you before,” she whispers, looking into his visor where his eyes are. “Like this at least. Your skin.”

He leans in closer to her before whispering “Would you like this to be the last time?”

She slowly shakes her head, keeping her eyes trained on his visor.

“Me neither,” he breathes out. “Now show me what to do.”

She inhales as if falling out of a haze. Clearing her throat, she adjusts Din’s legs by tapping them with her feet before getting into her own position.

“Okay, now I’m not going to tell you it’s simple but you are a fast learner, so I expect you to excel, unless you have two left feet,” she chuckles, straightening her back. “But I’ve seen you in a fight, and fighting and dancing are actually more similar than you’d think. Just like in fighting, if you’re not doing a practiced routine, you have to predict your partner’s moves, and for you, this isn’t a routine.”

“Mmm, cocky are we?” He teases, her reassurance easing a bit of his tension.

“For good reason,” she purrs, giving him a smirk. He doesn’t have time for a smartass reply because she’s already moved on. “Now, the music should be at a good tempo for us to start at any moment if I remember correctly. We’ll take it slow, just remember, feel me, okay? Anticipate my movements, and you’ll be fine. Nothing fancy for now until you get the footwork down.”

She taps her foot and looks out over the balcony, and Din swears he can see the notes swimming in her brain. He notices that in this light, he can see her irises better than he ever has before. But again, before he can complete the thought, she begins moving.

He follows her feet, feeling the way her muscles tense and flex underneath the tips of his fingers. Her eyes move back to his visor from their position over his shoulder and it’s like it clicks for him. If he weren’t going to sound crazy, he’d say it was like she transferred her consciousness to his.

They glide together like that across the catwalk, the child’s giggles following them as the pod, still connected to his vambrace, moves with them. The princess moves to twirl them around and Din’s foot catches a little, but he quickly corrects himself, getting back into step with her.

She suppresses a laugh before asking “Ready to step it up a notch?”

He just nods and she - seemingly reluctantly - lets go of her grip on his hand and twists so that her back is facing his chest. He readjusts so his grip is on her opposite hip, and she guides him to take her other hand.

“Same steps as before...yeah, good job,” she instructs, and it kindles a fire in his stomach that he thought he had quelled about an hour previous. “Okay, when I tell you to, keep stepping but lift me as you do a 180°, got it?”

His heart stutters, mostly out of fear of his poor, abused back. At 37, he shouldn’t be groaning every time he gets out of bed. But when he glances over at the kid, who is excitedly clapping his hands, he decides he’ll do it.

“Sure, but you’re gonna have to give me a few bacta patches on my shoulders later,” he says, slight amusement in his voice.

“I’ll do whatever you want...now!”

He falters for a moment, his brain short-circuiting like a C-1 series astromech before he realizes she means the lift is now, not...everything else that he wants. She pushes off of her right foot and he lifts her into the air, spinning counter clockwise before setting her down just as the music crescendos and finishes with a loud clash of cymbals and flutes.

They’re both breathing heavily as she turns in his arms to face him, and neither one of them go to move away. The tension is palpable at this point, with Din wanting to just bend her over and take her right there. His helmet tilts down to where her chest heaves and he swears he can see her heart beat in the pulse point on her neck. The thought of sinking his teeth into it and marking up her skin is suddenly overwhelming.

It’s only when the child squeals in delight that they’re snapped back to reality.

“I...I think we should go,” he says, catching his breath and tightening his grip on her waist. “Y’know, because the show’s over and crewmembers are gonna be up here any minute.”

She nods.

“Do you wanna take the elevator this time?” He asks her, hesitantly removing his grasp on her.

Again she shakes her head. “No,” she says hastily, donning her coat and looking like a ball of nervous energy. “Just do whatever gets us to the ship faster.”

They exit the way they came in, the princess clinging to Din, but he notices she’s not nearly as stiff as she was on the short flight up. They land near the same alleyway as before. The princess immediately exits the alley, setting course for the ship as Din struggles to keep up with her brisk pace.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing her arm. “You okay?”

She huffs air out of her nose before crossing her arms and shifting her weight. The snow has picked up since they entered the theatre, big enough now to cling to her hair and eyelashes. He watches as she leans over and snaps the child’s pod shut.

“I don’t know how to say this...” she begins, and Din’s heart sinks.

Dank farrik, I’ve gone and fucked this up, he thinks, his thoughts so loud that he only catches onto the last part of her sentence.

“...a virgin because of tradition on Arkanis, but I’ve wanted you to fuck me on every surface of the Crest since you asked me to join you. And I know this is forward, and maybe too brash, but I can’t stand it anymore and I just think that...I think I lo-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. I...” he licks his lips under his helmet and lets his brain catch up. “You want to...you want to have sex with me?”

She fixes him with a look that says “duh, weren’t you listening, dumbass?”

He sighs before responding. “Okay, look, I want this too, I have since the first time Karga, Dune, and I saw you at that library on Coruscant. But listen, if you’re...if you’re a virgin, then this is something I don’t want you to just decide to do on a whim, you understand me? That’s something that should be done with s-someone you care about.”

“Is that how your first time went?” She questions, narrowing her eyes. It’s a low blow because he revealed the answer to her one night while they were both drinking up in the cockpit. In this light, he can’t see her irises at all, and it’s extremely intimidating.

“I, well, no, but you’re missing the point-”

“Am I? I care about you, Din. Do you care about me?”

There’s no trepidation in his voice when he answers this time. “Yes.”

“Then what’s the holdup, hm?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you!” He shouts, earning furtive glances from the few last minute shoppers out and about. He sighs. “I’m not a prince, okay? I’m not some nutcracker that turns into a handsome prince and runs away with you into the forest. I’m not what you were taught to look for in your happily ever after. I’m not supposed to be your forever. I’m not even supposed to be the kid’s forever...”

The princess glares at the sky, clenching her jaw, and Din can tell from past experiences with the cauterizer that she’s trying not to cry.

“And don’t even try to tell me that it’s not about that. I know you. You crave connection, you feed off of it. You just deserve someone better than me. After I find his people, I’m gonna go back to the only thing I was ever any good at: killing.”

She sniffles and he suddenly, selfishly wishes he hadn’t been honest with her. That he would’ve just lied and whisked her back into the ship so he could fuck her every day until he inevitably broke her heart.

She looks back down, and the placid look on her face terrifies him more than the thought of someone ripping his helmet off (though his faith in the Creed is becoming increasingly shaky). She just sets her jaw and nods, turning on her heel and getting back to her brisk pace from before. It’s then that Din realizes he’s turned the sexual tension into the need for a nasty, ugly fight, having denied his feelings for so long that he’s used to feeling anger and frustration after a close encounter with her.

“Since when are you one to run away like a Corellian hellhound with your tail tucked between your legs, huh?” He says, grabbing her elbow again once he’s caught up with her.

She yanks her arm out of his grip and faces him with a scowl on her face. “Since you decided you were so unlovable, that’s when. You think you’re this horrific, terrible person. Well, Din, I’ve got news for you; plenty of people all over this galaxy do what you do for a living, and then go home and eat dinner with their partners and kids. It’s you,” she says, jabbing a finger into his chest. “That has decided you’re so unlovable. Not this galaxy, not your profession, you. You can’t even call your son yours because you’re so afraid of what? Commitment? Someone giving a damn? And guess what? Even more bad news; you’ve failed so fucking miserably at that, because he loves you. You’re his father, Din, and he loves you. I love you. And you’re not doing yourself any favors by ignoring those two blatantly obvious facts.”

The unshed tears in her eyes start to fall and Din wants to rip his helmet off right there and kiss them off her face, but he doesn’t even know what to say except that she’s right. She’s exactly right and oh, Maker, he’s a dumbass.

“To have you sit here and say that you even might possibly feel the same way about me but in the same breath say that you’re afraid of breaking my heart is...well it’s fucking stupid!” She exclaims, tossing her hands up in the air. “I’d be stupid not to love you, I would know, I literally have three degrees, Din. You risked your life to save your son, you’ve risked your life to save me, Karga, and Dune on multiple occasions. You’re trekking halfway across the galaxy to find some fabled wizard, all for your kid to be reunited with his people. You are one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met, and the only person you’re convincing that you’re some bad guy is you. You’re the good guy...that much is true.”

“I’ve done...I’ve done bad things, sweetheart. I can’t even begin to name them all...” he mutters, looking over at the child’s closed bassinet.

“Okay? We all have. My parents were grooming me to be a politician for fucks sake. What could possibly be worse than that?”

She turns and walks away then again, while he sits there staring at her before his brain, reliable as ever, finally does the mental math. “Oh, Maker, I insulted you, didn’t I?” He calls out.

“Yes!” She barks without turning around, stomping through the snow that builds up on the sidewalk. “If you got me a present for Life Day, I’ll consider it forgiven. Come on, it’s cold, we can talk in the ship...after you’ve fixed that.”

Things Din Djarin needs to stop forgetting: 1) don’t ever insult an Arkanian, or you’ll spend your whole life savings trying to get back in their good graces.

...

They don’t speak a word until they get back to the ship, and even then, words spoken aren’t to each other, only the child. The princess gets him fed and tucked in for the night before disappearing into the ‘fresher. Din fiddles around, unsure if he wants to keep going on their journey or stay on Chandrila for the night. Eventually, he decides to keep going, knowing that the temperatures will drop too much overnight on Chandrila to keep the engine off.

He hears her emerge from the ‘fresher just as the ship lurches into hyperspace, and he reaches over and grabs a parcel from underneath the control panel before heading down into the hold. He gets a strange sense of déja vu, except this time, he knows where he stands.

She’s in her quarters, but the door isn’t shut, so he takes that as an invitation to enter. He sits on her bed, watching her wrestle a chunky knit sweater over her wet hair.

“That’s more like it,” he says, and she turns to face him, a quizzical look on her face. She spots the parcel in his hands, but says nothing of it, just looks at him expectantly. “Your look, I mean. You looked, incredible tonight, but this feels more authentic, more you. You look freer.”

She just nods and bends down to slip on some socks. He holds the parcel out to her when she’s finished and she takes it without a word, sitting down next to him and unwrapping it.

The paper reveals a box. Even though her irritation at his earlier behavior rolls off of her in waves, he can almost feel her excitement piquing.

She opens the box to reveal a pair of pointe shoes in a blush pink color, delicately wrapped in red and green paper.

“...does this make up for me being a fucking idiot?”

She holds the shoes up to the light to inspect them, a revered look upon her face.

“I...I don’t even know what to say.” She whispers.

“Well, you could start with ‘thanks’.” He says, which earns him a light punch on his pauldron.

“I hope you know it’s customary to give the present on Life Day, not the night before, so don’t think this means you get yours tonight. But how did you know?” She asks, finally turning to look at him.

“Well you only drool all over the sidewalk every time we pass a store that sells them, so I picked some up a few rotations ago when we stopped to fuel up.” He answers softly.

She smiles bashfully and tucks her hands into her lap, suddenly finding a spot on the floor very interesting. Din gently takes her chin in between his pointer finger and thumb, guiding her to look at him again.

“I’m sorry...for everything I said. I’m not used to this, any of it. I didn’t mean to insult you in anyway, but you understand that you and I come from completely different worlds, different realities...” he trails off, trying to find the right words to say. “The truth is...I’m scared, terrified of you leaving me. Everyone I’ve ever loved has...has, well, left. I know the kid is gonna have to leave at some point...I don’t want you to, too.

“After we left Nevarro, before we came here, I wanted nothing more than to take off my helmet and tell you...tell you how I love you face to face, and I’ve wanted to do it so many times tonight, but I don’t think I’m ready yet...to take off the helmet, that is. I-I don’t want you to think less of me for that, but I do love you.”

The princess, his princess, cocks her head to the side.

“I knew what I was signing up for, silly. I never expected you to take it off in front of me, not now and maybe not ever. That doesn’t make it any less meaningful.” She tells him with a smile, resting her hand where his cheek would be. “Even though I would really like to kiss you right now.”

“Well, that I can make an exception for.” He says, and removes his hand from her chin, moving it to the lip of his helmet and pulling up slightly.

He knows she’s staring at his bronzed skin and three day old stubble when he says “Well, kiss me then.”

It’s awkward at first when their lips meet, the angle of the helmet meaning that she has to tilt her head almost sideways to avoid a large gash on her nose from the sharp edge, but after a second or two, it’s like magic. They move in sync, chapped lips moving against perfectly moisturized ones. After a moment, Din takes the lead and deepens the kiss, keeping one hand on the helmet and moving the other to the back of her neck. He tentatively pushes his tongue into her mouth, but his eyes almost pop out of their sockets when she starts to suck on it. He groans and she moves her hands up to the sides of his neck.

“How’d you get so good at this?” He asks as they both pause to take a breath.

“Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I wasn’t a horny teenager once. I spent plenty of summers at the Young Senators Retreat and-”

“Yeah, okay I get the picture,” Din huffs.

She laughs a full bellied laugh, the kind that crinkles the skin around her eyes and shows her teeth.

“Aw, is someone jealous?” She teases, poking the sliver of his cheek that was revealed to her.

He slips the helmet down and moves to stand up, and she does the same.

“Wait I didn’t mean to-”

“Sit down. I’ll be right back.”

He exits her room and takes a deep breath. He’s wanted this for so long, to be touched by another...to touch another. To touch her.

He returns moments later with a strip of thick black cloth in his hand and shuts the door behind him.

“As much as I want to see the look in your eyes when I make you come, I’d much rather be able to see the pretty little expressions you make when I eat you out.” He says moving to kneel on the edge of the bed. Her mouth drops into an “o” shape, her face flushing as bright red as it possibly can.

She clears her throat as he ties the cloth around her head, sheathing her in darkness. “You’re, um, good at complimenting.”

He laughs darkly, removing his helmet all the way and setting it on the floor at the foot of the bed before placing his lips next to her ear. “I think you mean dirty talk, angel.”

If it was possible for her to flush anymore, she would’ve, he thinks. He suddenly stops when a thought flashes across his mind that maybe she’s just doing this because he wants to.

“Hey, is this okay? I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with or not ready for, so if you want me to turn off the lights, or we can just stop altogether, just-”

“Din,” she whispers, reaching her hand out until she finds purchase on his knee. “It’s okay. Please, just touch me before I melt into a puddle of goo.”

Din just hums and stands, beginning to remove his armor. The pieces clank to the floor by the edge of the bed one by one, and he swears her face gets redder and redder from the anticipation. Finally, he’s left only in his underwear. He reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling her to stand. His fingertips move down to brush against the hem of her heavy sweater.

“Is this okay?” He asks, tapping his finger over her stomach and he feels her muscles flutter. She nods her head and he tries again.

“No, you have to use your words, sweet girl. Is this okay?” This time, his tone is more firm.

“Yes,” she replies breathlessly. “Please, Din.”

“Please what? What do you want?”

At this point, he knows he’s just riling her up, making the tension palpable before she snaps. He hears a whine in the back of her throat before she responds.

“I-I want you t-to do what you said you’d d-do to me earlier.” She mumbles, looking down at the ground as if to avoid his gaze, even though she can’t see anything.

“Mmm,” he tuts, stepping closer to her and leaning down to nuzzle his nose against the pulse point in her neck. “Which was?”

She huffs. “I want you to eat my pussy until I cry, and then pin me down and fuck me however you want.”

He pulls back at her sudden forwardness, not expecting her to be baited by his teasing. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides and her chest heaves. She huffs again and starts pulling at her clothes.

When her sweater comes off, Din’s cock gets ten times harder at the sight of her bare chest. He’s so caught up in the way her nipples harden and her chest flushes that he doesn’t realize she completely naked until she gingerly steps back toward the bed and flops down.

“Are you even still alive?”

When Din catches a glimpse of wet slick in between her legs, he decides that he’s not.

“N-no, I’m still here...you’re just. Looks like you were sculpted by the Maker himself. I’m not ever gonna to be able to keep my hands to myself around you.” He murmurs, stepping in between her legs and drawing a finger up her calf.

“You haven’t even hardly done that yet.” She grumbles, twitching as his hand trails behind her knee.

“Mmm, that may be true, but I’m never gonna want to leave this room ever again.”

She smirks and he leans over her to plant a kiss on her mouth, his body not yet touching hers. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in closer, winding her legs around his torso. When Din feels her wet heat touch the skin just below his bellybutton, his patience thins. He deepens the kiss, carding his hands through her hair and holding her flush to him. She lets a soft moan out and he thinks he might explode.

He pulls away and moves down her body, leaving wet kisses in his wake that have her shivering. He licks a long stripe with the tip of his tongue from just above her clit to her navel and she claps a hand over her mouth.

He stops himself from drowning in her cunt and reaches up to pull her hand away from her mouth. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that I wanna hear you, sweet girl.”

As soon as she says okay, he dives in, immediately attaching his lips to her clit and sucking gently. Her hands fly to his hair and tug, which makes him groan at an ungodly loud volume into her pussy. He releases her clit and licks figure 8′s on her fluttering hole and back up to her clit.

She squeals and brings her thighs up to cage his head, and Din resolves that if he dies, this is how he wants to go; devouring her pussy and soaking up the cute little noises she makes, getting his head squeezed by her thighs and his hair pulled by her tiny hands.

He sucks on her clit again and she lets out a long moan.

“Din, please, s-something put something-”

He cuts her off by slowly wedging his pointer finger into her and starting to thrust. Her back arches off the bed and she lets out an even longer moan than before.

He lets go of her clit and asks “Is this what you wanted, angel? My thick fingers? Or just my mouth?”

She hums before shaking her head. “I-Is both an option? I w-want both, please.”

“Good job using your manners. And yes, both is an option.” He says before diving back in.

This time, instead of hearing her moans, he’s not even sure he can hear her breathing. He inserts a second finger and she exhales, letting go of his hair to fist the sheets. His dick jumps at the loud squelching sound his fingers make in her pussy as he picks up the pace.

“Ohh,” she groans out, and his eyes flick up to see her tits moving slightly with the force of his fingers. “Din, that feels so good.”

“Mhm, I’m gonna have to give you one more finger, sweet girl. Do you think you can take one more?” He asks, his voice muffled as he keeps slurping on her clit.

“One more? B-But it already feels so...so...” she trails off into a whine when he curls his fingers up and gives her the ‘come here’ motion.

“Tight? Yeah, angel, I know. But I’ve gotta do one more if you wanna be able to take it.”

Her pelvic floor contracts at his words and she squirms, bringing her hands back up to his hair and tugging.

He slowly gives her a third finger and watches her face to control his pace. It scrunches up into a frown that wrinkles her nose, but relaxes when he uses his tongue to lick a flat stripe across her clit. She uses her purchase on his hair to guide him to suck her clit again, and shortly after that, she’s moaning again.

He scissors his fingers on every thrust, trying to get her as relaxed as possible for the real thing. He curls his fingers up one more time and she’s inhaling loudly, her thighs shaking around his head and her fingers tightening around his locks. She screams as she meets her release, the sound coming out rough and scratchy. She curls in around his head, refusing to let go of his hair as he continues to suck on her clit.

She finally lets go and Din keeps thrusting as she exhales and it turns into a whimper. He slowly removes his fingers and crawls back up her body, pushing her legs back up to his torso as he goes. Her chest is still heaving from her orgasm as he leans down to give her a thorough kiss.

“Suck,” he gently commands, bringing the three fingers that were just inside of her to her lips. She hesitates a moment before opening her mouth and doing as he says. He groans as her tongue slips in between each digit and she licks off her come.

Din feels his heart stutter as he watches her.

“You look so perfect like this, all open for me, being a good girl.”

She hums around his fingers and he removes them, shucking his underwear off and fisting his cock with her spit.

“Are you on the implant?” He questions.

“Yeah, it’s against the law not to be on Arkanis...is it going to hurt?” She asks softly, clutching her hands to her chest.

“I think I’ve got you pretty wet and worked open, but we’ll go slow. It might hurt a little,” he answers, rubbing his thumb on the inside of her thigh while his hand spreads her spit around the head of his dick. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” she says, nodding her head, but she replies again, seemingly remembering his warning from earlier. “Yes.”

He adjusts her legs so that her calves are resting on his hipbones. He brings his thumb back to her clit and rubs gently as he starts to push the head in.

Now, Din is a cocky bastard by any means, but he’s not surprised when she starts to scrunch her face up and hold her breath when his cock gets about an inch in.

“Uh-ooh uh Din...Din it’s thick. Let me...can I feel...” he slows his movements as she trails off, grabbing her hand and bringing it down to the rest of his length that isn’t inside of her yet.

“H-how is the rest of this supposed to fit in me, what the fuck?” She asks incredulously, barely able to wrap her hand around the diameter.

Din laughs lightly, reaching up and grabbing one of her pillows before lifting her hips up and sticking it under her.

“This might help. Just relax, the more relaxed you are, the quicker you’ll adjust.” He tells her, leaning down to give her a lingering kiss. He stays there, hovering over her as he gently pushes in some more, kissing her again when her face scrunches.

He gets about halfway in before she finally relaxes and Din’s cock doesn’t feel like it’s being strangled. He sits back up and watches as her pussy swallows the rest of his length.

“Oh, sweet girl you’re doing such a good job already. I wish you could see how good your little pussy takes this dick.” He tells her, choking on his words when her muscles flex and squeeze his dick. He pulls out a fraction of an inch before pushing in again and she mewls. “It’s like you were made for me.”

She brings her arms up to drape over her already covered eyes.

“I-it feels good...go faster, please, I want it.” She whines and Din can’t help but run a hand up her stomach and to one of her tits, pinching her nipple lightly before pulling back and giving her what she wants.

“I love it when you beg,” he breathes out, enunciating each word with a thrust that’s not too hard, but just hard enough to redden her chest and make her tits bounce. “Look at you, I’ve got a little princess speared on my cock, hardly able to even talk. Have you thought about this? Huh? Thought about how my cock would feel? I knew you were wearing those tight little leggings and those little tank tops with no bra on for a reason. Dancing around my ship like I didn’t want to bend you over a crate and take you right there.”

She moans, long and loud, and he picks up his pace, lifting up her legs and holding them against his chest.

“K-keep talking, please, please, ple-” Her voice turns into a whine when he angles his hips up and hits a spot inside of her that has her legs locking up and her ankles tightening behind his head. He has to grit his teeth to stop himself from coming too soon because of how much tighter her velvet heat gets.

“Yeah, you like that? This pussy feels so good, baby. I-I wanna spend the rest of my life just fucking you.” He grunts out, emphasizing his last few words with a hard thrust.

She lets out an absolutely pornographic moan when he does that, but it turns into a whine when Din abruptly pulls out. He pulls away to grab his helmet and slip it back on before plopping down on the bed next to her and pulling her hips up and over so she’s straddling his. He reaches up and yanks off the blindfold, causing her to reflexively cover her eyes.

“I have the helmet on, it’s fine,” he tells her, watching her shoulders deflate. “I want you to watch the way I fuck you, angel. Uncover your eyes.”

She tentatively does as he asks and when she looks down at his cock that rests on his stomach, her eyes bulge. When she takes it in her small hand, Din wants to burn the image into his brain. She looks back up at him with a look of amazement.

“There’s no way this was in me...” she trails off, lightly stroking it.

“Mm, yeah, well you can have it back in you if you’d stop talking. I like it more when you beg.”

He watches as the look of amazement turns to mischief, similar to the look she gave him earlier at the theatre. Her milky eyes pierce his visor as she licks her hand and then rubs her pussy, dragging her other hand up her body to grab a handful of her tit.

“Then why don’t you put it back in and keep fucking me?” She asks, looking down at him through her lashes.

“Every fucking day you’re full of surprises, angel,” he groans, grabbing his cock and teasing her clit with it before pushing up and into her. She throws her head back and Din suddenly wishes she had the blindfold back on so he could fulfill his earlier wishes of marking her up.

He grabs her hips and pulls her down to meet his thrusts.

“Look,” he barks, causing her to jerk her head down to the place they meet. “Look at how this cock stretches you. Look at how well you’re doing, such a good girl. Always such a good girl for me, doing what I ask you to.”

He rambles as his thrusts get harder and faster and the princess starts to clench around him again.

“Are you gonna come for me? Gonna come all over this cock? One of these days, I’m gonna make you squirt all over my armor and then I’m-I’m not even gonna clean it, I’m just g-gonna go pick up a bounty.”

The princess lets out a laugh at that, clapping a hand over her mouth as she does and Din slows his pace.

“I’m sorry this feels really good still, but that was just funny. Hot, but also funny. I-I think it was just your delivery,” she giggles, removing her hand from her mouth and placing it on his chest.

Din’s heart skips a beat at the sight of his girl straddling his cock with a smile on her face, looking at him so lovingly. It’s a gaze he hasn’t been on the receiving side of in a long time. He finds himself thankful for once that the helmet is on because of the tears that spring to his eyes. Crying during sex? Not Din Djarin.

He sits up then, holding onto her back and folding his knees under him, hearing them protest as he does. He pushes her shoulders down so that he’s bottomed out inside her pussy and she groans.

“Please don’t ever leave me,” he pleads, looking up and fixing his visor on her face. “Him and I, we need you.”

“I-wh-where did that come from? Are you okay?” She asks, placing her hands on either side of his helmet and looking concerned.

He ignores her question, opting to bury his helmet into her chest and hug her tight while starting to thrust back into her.

“Din...” she warns, but hugs him back anyway.

They stay like that for a few minutes, just slowly moving back and forth together until Din’s patience breaks and he can’t help but start thrusting harder and faster. His hand snakes down her front to rub at her clit and he can feel her start to come undone. Her cunt clenches around him as she’s quickly and quietly tipped over the edge, her thighs and back spasming. She says nothing, just pants heavily above him, clutching his shoulders and brushing the strands of hair at the back of his neck that have escaped his helmet.

“Can I-can I come inside? Please-”

“Yes,” she cuts him off breathlessly. “Please, Maker, yes.”

He thrusts in a few more times before speaking again.

“Tell me you-mmm. Tell me you love me, cyare.”

“Oh, Din, I love you so much. You’re so special, you’re such a special man. I loveyouIloveyouIloveyou.”

He comes inside of her with a long groan, burying his face further into her chest as she repeats herself over and over.

Eventually, Din flops back onto her bed and she follows. He notices she takes extra care to make sure his cock doesn’t slip out of her.

“Wanted to keep all that come in there, huh?” He jokes lightly, giving her a soft pat on the butt.

“Shut up,” she huffs with a laugh into his neck. “I’m gonna have to get up eventually though to turn off the light. Are you...will you stay with me? If the lights are off?”

He rubs his hands up and down her back before exhaling deeply and responding.

“I would sleep in all of my armor just for the honor of falling asleep next to you.”

“Mmm,” she hums, tracing her finger along his collarbone. “Well lucky for you, I have a strict ‘no armor’ policy in my bed. It reads like this: ‘No beskar? No problem.’.”

Din awakes with a start to a loud thwump, thwump, thwump from somewhere in the ship. Immediately fearing the worst, he throws his undershirt and pants on and rushes into the hold.

There she sits, his princess, in one of his long-sleeve tunics and a pair of his underwear that fit her like shorts, banging the absolute shit out of one of her pointe shoes. The child, his son, he reminds himself, sits across from her holding the other shoe, trying to mimic her and bobbing his head along to the music playing softly in the background.

He calms his racing heartbeat as he goes to take a seat on the floor next to them.

“Happy Life Day,” she says, leaning over to place a kiss where his cheek would be.

“Happy Life Day to you, too,” he responds tenderly, booping her nose. She looks down to return to her work and Din turns to his son. “Happy Life Day, buddy.”

He babbles in delight, holding up the shoe to show Din all the work he’s (not) done on it.

“Sorry if I woke you up...actually, no I’m not. He told me to,” she says without looking up, nodding her head toward the child who just laughs. “He wants his presents, daddy.”

Din clears his throat and stands back up while the princess just smirks, knowing exactly what she does to him.

“Oh, and while you’re at it, there’s one for you underneath my bed.” She calls out to him as he leaves to go retrieve the Life Day presents.

“Alright, but next time I sit down, I’m not getting back up for at least 20 minutes.” He calls back from the ladder.

When he returns, he sees that they’ve switched shoes.

“So what does that do anyway?” He asks, setting the presents on the floor in between them. The child immediately makes grabby hands.

“Oh, it just breaks them in, but trust me, you’re not gonna want to see my feet for at least a week once you see what pointe shoes do to them,” she laughs.

Din’s helmet tilts, trying to gauge if he should have even bought them.

“Hey,” she says softly, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. They’re perfect. You have to do this with all of them, I promise.”

He just nods and pats her hand before reaching over and handing the child his present.

“This one’s mine?” He asks, holding up a large box wrapped in purple paper with a silver bow on top.

“Mhm,” she responds with a smile, tossing the shoe aside to pull his son into her lap and help him unwrap his present. “There’s a few things in there, but I could only do one box because the paper tax on Vardos was high.”

“That’s rich coming from the princess,” he teases, gently tearing into the paper.

“Hey! You know I don’t like using my parents’ capitalist credits,” she frowns.

He laughs, the modulator making it sound raspy. Their attention is grabbed by the child, who finally gets the box open and squeals in delight at the objects inside.

“Show dad what you got!” She tells him.

Din ignores his own present for a moment to watch as his son shows him a red shirt and black pants.

“Wow! That’s cool! Do you like them?” He asks.

The child babbles and Din looks at the princess. “Where’d you find something that small?”

“A maternity store,” she responds with a shrug, still looking down at the child. “Show him the next one!”

Din’s thoughts are swimming with the idea of her walking around a maternity store when the kid shows him his next present. The mental image has his blood rushing south until he reminds himself where he is and what he’s doing.

He clears his throat for the second time that morning because of explicit thoughts. “Oh, that’s neat!”

His son holds a tukka doll close to his chest with bright eyes and a beaming smile that shows his little teeth.

“Tell your dad to open his present,” the princess leans down and tells him, giving him a scratch on the head. When he babbles at Din again, his heart melts.

“Okay, okay, I’m on it hang on,” he responds, gently peeling open the cardboard.

In the box sits a camera, a photo, a cushion of some sort, and a folded piece of deep red fabric. The first thing he pulls out of the box is the photo. It takes him approximately ten seconds to realize that it’s a picture of him, smiling, as a boy. Next to him sits a girl, about four years older than him, and behind them stand his parents. There’s a tree with lights and ornaments decorating it in the background.

“Do you like it?” She softly asks him, placing a hand on his knee.

“I...how?” Is all he can muster.

“Well, I did some digging...a lot, actually. I found this on the holonet on an Aq Vetina tribute page,” she says, scratching the back of her neck and looking away. “It’s sad how many of those there are. Anyways, I saw your last name, your family’s last name, and figured it had to be you guys. I, uh, had it printed out because having to boot up a piece of technology every time you want to see that seems silly.”

“Is that...did I have a sister?” He whispers, drawing his finger over her picture.

“Seems that way. I could probably do some more digging if you’d like...maybe teach you how to use the holonet while I’m at it, old man.” She softly teases, squeezing his knee.

He’s scared that he broke something when he practically tackles her in a hug. His son hoots in delight, crawling his way up her front to be in the middle of the embrace.

“Thank you...so much,” he whispers in her ear, this time doing nothing to stop the tears that roll down his cheeks and catch on the lining of his helmet.

“It’s the least I could do,” she replies, giving him a soft smile when he pulls away. “If you need a moment, we can take a break before you-”

“No, no it’s okay. I’m fine,” he reassures her, the barest hint of a smile in his voice. “I’m right here where I want to be.”

He pulls the camera out of the box and inspects this.

“This is an older model,” he comments, looking through the viewfinder. “This must’ve been hard to find.”

“Yeah, but I wanted one that prints the photos out so you can keep them on you,” she responds.

“What’s this?” He asks, holding up the cushion.

She laughs. “It’s for your butt. For your chair in the cockpit. It’s supposed to help with back pain.”

He gently pops her on the head with it and she giggles. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Mhm...pull out the last one.” She tells him, nodding to the box.

He removes the fabric from the box and it unfolds as he holds it up.

“It’s a new cape. I got it so you guys could match.”

The smile on Din’s face threatens to break his helmet in half. “Hey, buddy, look...we’re matching.” He says, holding the cape out to his son.

The child giggles and wraps it around himself like a cape, and goes parading around the little half circle they’ve formed.

“This is...this is nice,” Din compliments, scooting over and slinging his arm over the princess’s shoulder. “All we need now is a tree.”

She leans her head into the crook of his arm and sighs contentedly. “Yeah, well they don’t survive in extended periods of hyperspace...trust me, I already thought about it.”

“I feel bad I only got you the one present,” he remarks, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

“Mm, I’ve got everything I want right here,” she singsongs, poking him in his side. “Now lets get all this paper cleaned up so we can eat.”

She holds her hands out and he follows her up.

“What if we...uh, can we recreate that picture? The one of my parents?” He asks tentatively once he’s fully standing.

“Like...with the three of us?” She inquires, her eyes widening.

“Yeah.”

“Of course,” she answers with a soft smile. “It’d be best to do it after breakfast before his nap though.”

He watches for a moment as she starts cleaning up the multicolored wrapping paper, thinking about how peaceful and domestic this moment seems. He almost brings up getting their implants removed and having a few more monsters running around the ship, but he decides that maybe that’s a conversation for next Life Day, where hopefully they won’t have to live in the ship anymore or be on the run.

Even if there aren’t any more kids in the picture, or if we never settle down somewhere, this is more than enough, he thinks before joining his princess and his son in the kitchenette for a Life Day feast.

And for a day, all is well with the Mudhorn Clan.

#din djarin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #no y/n's around here #baby yoda #star wars #pedro pascal #reader insert

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monotonous-minutia · 4 years

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Cendrillon (Met 2018)

Started last night, fell asleep halfway through (it was a weird day), the post somehow survived without being saved and here we are.

I wonder if there are any spoilers on the walls.

POWER TO THE TROUSER ROLES mezzos rule (I know that’s not what he meant but given there’s a trouser mezzo in this opera I can’t help but wonder if it’s a pun)

second time I’ve seen her as Cinderella and so far Massenet’s is more depressing than Rossini’s

okay this is a bit trippy

I love her so much

those horses area liiiiittle creepy

Prince is sassy

okay that ballet or whatever was super weird and a little disturbing tbh

and it’s just going to keep getting weirder isn’t it

he’s having it about as much as I am

now things are happening very quickly also I’m getting a lot of Greek Chorus vibes from this piece

what am i supposed to focus on i can’t keep my eyes off either of these two i think my head is going to explode

yeah definitely more depressing also subtitles please quit it with the question marks, this is week 16 you should have it figured out by now

the choreography just keeps getting weirder but Kim was made for this role so I can forgive it I suppose

wait what

but apparently you don’t get a name

hello goodbye i’m dead

so wait that WASN’T the happy ending?

oh dang well that happened also what is it with these French bass-baritone dads that just stand there while their children lie dying on the ground

cause of death two mezzos being insanely adorable and in love

sure mom, sure

I mean you had me going there for a while also Lucette’s smile ahhh

meta af

come on cowards let your mezzos kiss onstage

I still love her despite her unexpected moral ambiguity

This was my first time with this opera and it was very interesting. A lot of unexpected twists and turns and very depressing at points; it’s been a while since I’ve read the original original fairy tale so I’m not sure if it’s going for greater accuracy or if Henri Cain likes torturing audiences or if Massent’s music just lends itself best to depressing (the only other operas of his I’ve seen/heard are Thaïs and Werther so).

The fact that the Prince is a mezzo though sold me 1000% because, well, you know me...

I kinda want to talk to the choreographer to see what exactly was going through their mind with this production because the dance sequences were super weird and (as mentioned above) a little disturbing...like at one point it insinuated that they ate the Prince...which...how does one come up with that, let alone have the place of mind to pull it off...

the set was interesting though, with all the text on the walls from the story. It really lent itself well to the surreal sound of the music (which was fantastic at evoking the fairy tale feel) and the strange, extremely flowery libretto. The costumes for the supers were pretty Extra and I get they were going for a comic feeling but it was kind of distracting and didn’t really suit the more somber feel of this piece.

even if the production had been terrible though it still would have been worth it because this cast was phenomenal. Like a production with just one of them would have sold me but ALL FOUR IN ONE PLACE like seriously it was a diva awesomeness overload and that might have been part of the reason I couldn’t finish it in one sitting.

For one thing, Joyce DiDonato pretty much owns the role of Cinderella now in any incarnation and it may be my personal opinion or it could be fact, who knows. I can’t get over how amazing and versatile she is and that voice and her face and she’s so cute and her acting is on point and her expressions and her chemistry with the other performers and and and ahhhhhhhhhhhh she pulled off the smol sweet fragile tiny adorable sad selfless spritely little Cinderella so well and I died.

Kathleen Kim as the Fairy Godmother was a stroke of genius. She was so PRETTY and her voice matches the character perfectly and all her little quirks and expressions really portrayed the depth of this character who was a very surprising incarnation. She’s not the totally sweet, altruistic fairy that we’re used to. Idk what her whole plan was, or her motives, of if it’s just a French Opera Thing that everything has to be more complicated and it’s not complete if all the heroes aren’t at the brink of death at some point, but whatever the reasoning, Kim OWNED it and despite my initial disbelief at the unexpected twist she convinced me. I don’t think just anyone could pull that off. Kim is something special.

I haven’t seen her in as many things but imo Alice Coote is one of the best trouser mezzos. I don’t really get into gendered appearances or ways of moving around because gender is fluid and not binary etc. etc. but for the sake of storytelling and character portrayals DANG (WO)MAN she nails it to the point that if I see her in an interview or something offstage I invariably think “Oh, what, she’s not actually a boy” ALSO she is just EXTREMELY cute and sassy and I love her expressions and pretty much everything about her so yeah. Also I can’t express my nerdy happiness that the two leads are mezzos. But also frustration because excuse me, it’s not a fairy tale if the prince and princess don’t kiss at the end, that’s like the whole point, and I’m pretty sure if he’d been a tenor they’d let it happen, but god forbid we get the tiniest bit of gay onstage.

And Stephanie Blythe--I keep seeing her in all these incredibly different roles and keep thinking at some point she’s not going to be able to pull it off because they’re all so different and then I keep getting more impressed because she does pull it off and then I feel bad for doubting her. This evil stepmother also had a surprising ending and I couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be funny or ironic or maybe both, but, like Kim, Blythe was excellent at capturing the ambiguity.

sooooo anyway that’s me nerding out about my divas and I’d give the production 3/5 probably, points taken for the weird costumes and disturbing ballet sequences and not letting the ladies kiss onstage. But the cast gets 100/5 because, well, if you got this far you know why.

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camillesfm · 4 years

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。· . ˙ ⌈ alva bratt + cis female + she / her + the intangible concept ⌋ yo , have you meet that KOOK , camille 'cj' petersen , yet ? — no ? well , to give you a little heads up before you do , they’re a TWENTY year old , PRE-LAW STUDENT , and have been living in coston for TWENTY . since i’ve known them , they’ve reminded me of PALE PINK POINTE SHOES , CHAINS MADE OF WHITE CLOVERS , A PURPLE SKY JUST BEFORE SUNRISE , STEADY WAVES CRASHING AT LOW TIDE , AND SHATTERED & SCATTERED GLASS . usually they’re quite LEVELHEADED & THOUGHTFUL but just make sure you keep an eye out for them around town because i heard can be quite RETICENT & ALOOF as well so here’s hoping they aren’t the ones to undo this whole peace pact they have going on this summer . but just between you & me , i kinda hope it all falls apart . the rivalry keeps this whole boring town interesting . –– this is cj . . . let’s just . . . dive into this mess !

𝐁 𝐀 𝐂 𝐊 𝐆 𝐑 𝐎 𝐔 𝐍 𝐃 .

scarlett petersen is a name known statewide, as she’s the best corporate lawyer on the east coast, clever as the devil and twice as pretty with long blonde hair often pinned into a sleek ponytail. david petersen got his degree at vanderbilt university, moving on to get his phd at unc chapel hill where he could never quite shake that carolina blue. he’s been sitting chancellor for the past six years in tandem with a long term sports-medicine, neuroscience research project that studies the long term affects of brain damage in athletes in contact sports. they both hail from old money families, and long lines of success are continued in two people who hold appearance and accomplishment far above humility or even . . . . humanity lol. they’re good people, really . . . just not really the parenting type.

which is unfortunate! as. well into their marriage, they had twins, caleb, first, and camille, ten minutes later. bright eyed and blonde haired, the perfect petersen babies were angels in their infancy, and it was easy to parent them . . . especially when they were paying someone else to do it.

caleb and camille grew up under the watchful eye of a rosy-cheeked nanny. think julie andrews as nanny in eloise. they were happy, but lonely, though you’d never guess it by their wide smiles in cuddled family portrait christmas cards. for all anyone else knew, scarlett and david were perfect parents, raising two beautiful children who they loved more than anything . . . but behind that iron gated entryway to a house on the coast was another story.

they liked their kids, sure, but whether or not they loved them was another question entirely. camille, growing up to be the spitting image of scarlett, was liked in the way a rare porcelain artifact was. she was a beautiful thing to behold; seen, not spoken to. shown off, not interacted with in anyway. held with delicate hands and passed around as a humble brag: look at this precious thing i’ve brought into the world. i bet mine’s better than yours.

but as time passed, the novelty of having children seemed to wear off, and they were moving to the next big thing, the next big step in their careers. they weren’t around when camille began going by cj because it was easier for little voices to say. they weren’t around when blonde ringlets relaxed and grew darker. they weren’t around when she started to develop a personality of her own, interests of her own, talents of her own. christmas cards would go out, but rarely were they all together on christmas morning. thanksgivings were often spent with grandparents, as their parents worked through the holiday. they spent more and more time away from coston, leaving cj and caleb in nanny’s capable hands.

but life goes on, and sometimes it was easy to forget that it was abnormal not to have your parents around. as a youngin, cj was interested in everything. she took a liking to soccer and lacrosse, painting and drawing, piano and guitar . . . but somewhere in between a blue mat and pale pink pointe shoes, she found her thing.

it was obvious, from an early age, that cj was one hell of a dancer. disciplined and precise when she needed to be. creative and passionate when it called for it. gymnastics trained her strength, ballet trained her patience, contemporary pushed her limits with creativity, partner work taught her teamwork. dance was very clearly her best thing and her favorite thing.

her parents only ever attended recitals when it didn’t conflict with anything else on their schedules and when it was classical ballet. dance was a frivolous thing for them, but for cj it was everything. being a naturally shy kid, naturally timid in the shadow of her last name, she became a completely different person on stage who dominated a spotlight . . . without even needed a literal spotlight. ultimately, this is what she spent her life doing. monday through thursday evenings, dance. competitions and performances on the weekends. if neither were happening, you’d catch her teaching classes at coston’s local studio.

it’s what truly made her happy, but that wasn’t something her parents understood. caleb and nanny did, sure, but her parents? not one bit. someone would ask what she wanted to be when she grew up, and if dance was mentioned, she’d be cut off mid-sentence. they didn’t want to hear about it because it wasn’t logical. you can’t make a career out of it. it didn’t help much that her brother was the ideal child in that realm, charming and on a path to success in the medical field. they still had questionable motives, but they favored nonetheless.

sometimes it was a blessing; sometimes it was a curse. when she could slip under the radar, she was grateful, but it seemed that her parents had a keen eye for her screwups. any chance they had, they’d use to scold her or nudge her away from the pointe shoes.

so cj spent a lot of time being pristine in the way that was expected of her, never letting anyone know too much about her, only keeping a few friends close enough to really know her. she stayed out of trouble, kept up exceptional grades, smiled and nodded when necessary, and began catering to the idea that she’d go to law school, a fate pre-determined by her mother no doubt.

nowadays, she attends brown university, pre-law. she’s a picturesque ivy league gal with a dark academia aesthetic when at school, but there’s a restlessness lingering under the surface. even she’s doing what her parents require of her, she never seems to live up to their unrealistic expectations. we rly do be . . . . waiting for her to have a complete breakdown . . . . aklsdfjha

𝐏 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 𝐎 𝐍 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 .

miss camille . . . better known around town as cj . . . is, above all else, the picture of serenity. she’s levelheaded and calm, and patient as all get out which is probably why she’s so damned accustomed to just going with what her parents thought of her. she’s really great to have in a crisis because very few things cause that steady nature of hers to crumble, and because she’s honestly. . . quietly very maternal. putting the needs of others before her own comes naturally.

she’s quiet and shy, yes, but just because she doesn’t speak doesn’t mean she doesn’t listen. she listens and sees and is . . . quite observant. there’s a way about her that notices the little things, which makes her quite thoughtful when it comes to the people she loves. if you’re lucky enough to be close to her, you can bet she quietly takes notes of little habits and favorites and carefully uses them to idk love ya better ya feel??

reticent comes from the fact that she doesn’t often let people get close to her. the way her parents treated her and caleb growing up has taken. .. . a toll for sure because honestly she’s terrified of disappointing people by shattering the mirror of perfection and revealing too much about herself that’s unexpected

aloof comes from the way she’s calm and quiet . . . and how that sometimes translates as apathy . . . on top of that she’s very daydreamy like she is That Bitch who is staring out of the window producing a whole move in her head which sometimes causes her to not hear when people are talking to her . . . cue the ‘hm? what?’ tuning back in

when i say cj is a different person when she’s dancing . . . . i mean it. like i REALLY mean it. she’s confident and expressive. her choreography tests the limits of tradition. she pushes boundaries when it comes to the physicality of performances. like u rly look at her being quiet and to herself in the corner at a country club event and then see her performing like she invented contemporary and ur like . .. . are u SURE that’s the same girl

people who know her most know her as warm. when she opens up, getting past the shy, she can be a little goofy, definitely has avery creative way about her, wants to know that you’re okay and if you’re not, how can she help ya know!!

has a black cat named lucky because ya know . . . black cats are bad luck . . . ha ha ha ha . . . get it

the ‘j’ in cj is for her middle name . . . but no one really knows what her middle name is . . . except family and close, close friends

absolutely hates the energy of the pogue/kook rivalry and thinks violence is most cERTAINLY not the way to go

often times found by the shoreline at night, just a little ways off from the petersen estate because she likes the way the waves sound as they roll in. it helps her think

is trying to make the best of law school by studying to become a defense attorney and she likes it! sort of! really, she just wants to dance for as long as she can and ultimately open up her own studio

definitely believes in wishing stars

bad case of insomnia

has a finsta dedicated to lucky

has a dance insta too . . . . but that’s lowkey bc her parents can’t know about it

please for the love of god watch this because charity and cj have the same energy

this also has cj energy

so does this . . . classical is fun when it’s telling a story and she loves a good pas de deaux but otherwise meh

my girl is physically . .. QUITE strong

says sorry WAY too often

incessant need to prove herself, prove her worth, since her parents never seem to find it

loves caleb sfm but will thump him in the forehead for mentioning he’s older

overachiever . . . . yikes

ABSOLUTELY burns the candle at both ends

idk if y’all watched high school musical the musical the series but gina . . . . . .. minus the ‘mean girl’ plot they tried . . .. is v cj and bitch i hate to say it but neville longbottom??? also a cj mood LMAO

OK THAT’S IT THAT’S ALL THERE WE GO IT’S DONE I’M DONE GBYYYYYE BABIIIIE

#coston.intro #what the f kinda NONSENSE did i just write lmao

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fanlan1 · 4 years

Note

Forget about Hogwarts Houses and Gemsonas. What's Book/Radio/Show AC's Undertale Soul Colors?! :P

I’m using the Undertale wiki as source for these answers. I was actually in this fandom not too long ago and this game is just really important to me but man does it have a pretty gross fandom. I can’t complain at all about GO compared to it

Show

Aziraphale (green)- kindness. Not only because the weapon is cooking wear and you know how I love show aziraphale baking, but green attacks in game are healing and I head canon this aziraphale as the best healer

Crowley (red)- determination. He doesn’t know how to give up. It was always fanon frisk and Chara and Flowey could control time due to their determination heart and I like that theory. Also Crowley seems pretty good at manipulating time to stop it, I have to wonder if he could throw himself back if he really wanted to.

Book

Perseverance (purple) - mainly due to the weapon. Torn book and glasses. Also in the Flowey fight, it attacks with books and negative words and heals with positive words. That just fits my book zira aesthetic.

Integrity (green) - in the book, it’s described as Crowley’s creativity that pushes him through everything and his will to just not give up. The weapons are ballet shoes and a tutu objects made for expression and creativity. Also shown by the skeleton boys, blue attacks are gravity. Controlling the atoms of the earth and using it to your whim. Crowley does that, with a cost to his Bentley in the fire. Also idk their are a lot of similarities between Crowley and sans who uses the blue attack.

Radio

Patience (light blue) - Aziraphale in general is more patient then Crowley. Also I love the idea of him stabbing someone and then putting a bandage there as healing.

Justice (yellow) - I just want the sexy vampire voice Crowley to have a gun and cowboy hat and sometimes that’s all you need

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altrcistics · 4 years

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❄️❄️ –––– have you seen [ ESME MACMILLAN ] since the storm? some say they look like [ DANIELLE CAMPBELL ] but they’re [ 21 ] & go by [ THE TACITURN ]. [ SHE ] lived in halloway for [ 11 YEARS ] & they are originally from [ LONDON ]. before the town vanished they were studying [ MEDICINE ] and lived at [ UNI BLVD ]. most people knew the [ CISFEMALE ] as [ ALTRUISTIC ] but i’ve heard they can also be [ RETICENT ]. for some reason, they feel [ UNEASY ] about the town’s disappearance. –––

–––––– well , well if it isn’t me , b , with a broken theme !! but i’m too eager to pay any mind to it right now , and i’ve got homework due at midnight that has to happen after i get this baby posted . hi friends !! very excited to be here . this is my soul baby esme who is just trying her gd best and is stressed out 99% of the time . needs a 12 hour nap and maybe a therapist . summed up in a word ? soft , probably . i hope you love her like i do anYWAY GONNA leave this here and get to plotting so you can also hit me up at b a y#9956 on discord!!

LONDON.

weston and anna macmillan never planned on having a child. they were young and in love, and both had struck the genetic lottery – weston with his brains, anna with her trust fund. while weston was up and coming in the world of corporate law, anna had spent her life in pointe shoes and was at the top of her game as a principle dancer for the royal ballet in london. they were picturesque… perfect, even. until anna found herself to be three weeks late and their dazzling little dream life reached its first hiccup.

that hiccup entered the world screaming a whole nine months later!! tiny blue eyed esme grace macmillan was a fuckin handful even before she was born. as anna went through prenatal checkups, she found that her heartbeat was irregular. further tests concluded that she had hypertrophic cardiomyopathy (hcm) which is a genetic condition that affects the muscles in the heart and causes irregular blood flow. it’s not fatal, but it is hereditary and gets riskier with physical exertion. being a new mother, anna made the decision to shelve ballet and focus on this new chapter of her life.

which was probably a good thing! she loved being a mom, and it was safe to say that having a set of eyes on esme at all times was the right choice. she was restless and constantly full of energy. from a really young age, it became apparent that esme had inherited some of the best parts of her parents. she got her dad’s brains, catching onto things quickly and learning to walk and talk earlier than most. this turned into simple reading and messy writing shortly after. she wasn’t a very social kid though, didn’t talk much.

as soon as esme was old enough, she was put into tiny pink ballet slippers. she took a liking to dance, and this is when they realized she’d also inherited her mother’s natural grace. early on, it looked like she’d easily follow in her mother’s footsteps.

dance really really opened esme up. it was here that she started making friends and began tip toeing outside of her comfort zone and opening up a little bit, but her direction changed when she was six and discovered figure skating.

it was technical and lyrical like ballet, but it was far more challenging. even as a kid, esme loved a good challenge. so her parents bought her a pair of skates, and the rest is history. as she grew up, her weekends were occupied with practices, performances, and eventually competitions. she was a natural. and for the first time there was an air of confidence about her.

though she loved it more than anything in the world, her life soon came to revolve around school and skating. it caused her to miss out on a normal childhood, never really making friends close enough to be invited to sleepovers or birthday parties.

that made the move much easier for esme. when she was 10, her father’s firm went international and he was put in charge of the american branch. thus, the macmillans hopped across the atlantic and moved to halloway for a fresh start, a new adventure.

HALLOWAY.

she took a small break from competitive skating when they moved; it was her parents’ choice in hopes of her actually making friends in new hampshire. and it worked! for a while. esme was still quiet, still a little too book smart and a little less than street smart. even as a kid, she was awkward, but she was kind and clever and for the most part — people liked her.

and life was good for a long time! she got back into skating, and around the time she was thirteen she showed no signs of stopping. in fact, her sights were set on an olympic medal, and though her parents were wary of her inherited condition, they supported her in every possible way.

entering high school, life got a little bit harder. her schoolwork and training kept her pretty tied up, and it was often really hard for her to balance a social life along with that. she didn’t show up to every party. she didn’t really have any interest in going on dates. she kept up with her friends and made time for the important things, but she wasn’t exactly the most open person.

this backfired real quick!! as a freshman, at a bonfire, a senior boy kinda came onto her and when she said nope no thank you, he got pissed. instead of taking rejection Like A Man, he decided to spread a little rumor about them hooking up. this combined with her quiet nature kind of caused her to get a bit of a reputation of being aloof and a bit easy which is so far from the truth. but high school is high school!! and people were fuckin mean about it for a long time thereafter!

around this time was also when her parents sorta…. fell out of love. as in… her father got a little power hungry, a little bored of his life, and like the cliche he is started having an affair. the secrecy of it didn’t last… long and he ultimately left both anna and esme. she felt kind of.. abandoned. like they weren’t good enough almost but.. she and her mom got . even closer because of it tbh. the macmillan girls don’t need no man!!

so she threw herself into her studies and even more so into skating. she trained in the morning and on the weekends, year round. winning competitions made her feel good, and she kept doing so. when she was fifteen, she competed at the world figure skating championship. though she didn’t medal, her scores were impressive and she became an alternate for the us figure skating team at 16. being so close to those five rings was enough to push her further.

she left traditional high school and threw herself even further into figure skating. (this only fueled halloway rumors that she was a bit of a snob akjdfha) after graduating, she enrolled at halloway part time in order to slowly get through her gen eds while training for, yup, you guessed it, the 2018 olympics.

and ya know what? it paid off. at 20, she’d had two world’s silvers and a world’s gold under her belt as she competed in the winter games. her whole life had been leading up to that moment, and she brought home an olympic gold medal in women’s figure skating. that’s right, ya girl fucking peaked.

it was a high, for a while. and she rode it quietly and gracefully. idk she was PROUD ok she worked so hard…. but her incessant need to be perfect and to continuously better herself was nagging in the back of her mind. she wasn’t sure how you could really get better than gold at the olympics.

needless to say, she’s in the midst of a bit of an identity crisis. with her heart condition and ya know aging… she knows figure skating isn’t a forever-thing. so she went back to halloway, taking an interest in medicine and trying to understand her own weakness— a weak heart. she began studying medicine and to fell in love with that profession, but . she honestly can’t stay off of the ice. activate existential dread! she doesn’t actually know who she is!

and then the heckin storm happened smh

NEW HALLOWAY.

with a calm exterior and a notorious knack for being maternal . . . someone , somewhere along the line said hey let’s put esme in charge of the hospital to which she said in a john-mulaney-esque voice . . . huh ? what ? huh ? what ??? huh ???? and then did it anyway

if she’s not on call or working at the hospital , best believe she’s studying because she’ll be the first to tell you she has no business calling herself a doctor

it’s been months!! since!! they disappeared!! and she’s sort of adjusting to this new life which often makes her feel very, very guilty because she doesn’t know what’s happened to her mother at this point

when everything was frozen she still found time to escape and do some skating on the lake aksdjfhas

for the most part, she keeps herself busy ... someone like .... help her tho

PERSONALITY.

esme’s naturally introverted. she likes people, but she’s a textbook people pleaser and gets exhausted quickly when she’s socializing. she’s always been quiet, never the center of attention (unless on ice) and never the loudest voice in the room. when she does speak, though, it’s purposeful and articulate. the sort of ‘she doesn’t talk much but when she does it’s important’ kinda thing idk. she’s not meek ya know.. just reserved

she’s naturally… very kind. cares a lot about other people but struggles to express that which is why she gravitates towards the profession of medicine. she enjoys helping people ya know

ya girl keeps her shit close to her chest. doesn’t really want to bother anyone with her own shit and takes her anger out in physical activity, disassociates from her sadness by reading. a lot of people know her but not on a deep level. tbh does she even know herself? prob not

she’s not a stick in the mud, but she does need a little push every now and then. she lets loose when she’s around people that she’s comfortable with tbh. behind the prim and proper macmillan facade is.. a bit of a goofball. does not hesitate to participate in dramatically karaoke or midnight swims in a lake.

SOFT as fuck but she’s not one to be walked all over. she’s clever as all get out and when snapped at harshly enough won’t hesitate to snap back. she doesn’t get angry to the point of showing it easily, but when she does, she’s very purposeful with her words. don’t underestimate her she hATES being underestimated

competitive as heck. in academics, in sports, in board games. she’s a sweetheart but she will wreck you in spite and malice or sorry bc she just… has a competitive nature

really does give a shit about what people think of her. like… wants to be liked. not being liked by some people in high school really fucked w her bc she just….. can’t help caring about how other people perceive her and wants it to be positively. it’s in part because of how she was raised?? she grew up in a pretty monitored, strict environment between rigorous training and her parents’ world of the rich (will this change after the storm tho??? we’ll SEE)

values honesty like has absolutely 0 time to be lied to and 0 time for bullshit

SO curious, always ready to learn more

will make a fool of herself to see you laugh

a lil bit of amy santiago.. a lil bit of rory gilmore.. a lil bit of caroline forbes..

needs to relax; constantly Anxious

s t u b b o r n

literally never sleeps

doesn’t curse bc there are more clever ways to express anger

reputation: aloof and stuck up. reality: literally just shy lmao

is TRYING VERY HARD

WANTED PLOTS.

i have a few connection ideas here!! and a tag here!! but also…

friends from halloway that she’s just… straight up been pals with since she moved there

i’m… constantly thirsty for … girl gang shit. any of y’all watch the bold type? i eat that shit uP AND IT’S all i NeED TO BE . HAPPY OK

esme’s an only child and i would love to see a sibling-like bond for her

academic rivals pls and thank!! mayb in their major…. mayb back in high school…. paris vs rory anyone?

the maya to her riley oh man

a bad influence or even… the polar opposite . to her Mom Friend-ness

someone else who grew up in the realm of rich parents like galas suck but at least we got each other!!

neighbors!!

new friends! people who she’s met through halloway and quickly taken a liking to. super interesting dynamic bc… while she’s eager to know u she’s not so eager to …. open up lmao

previous roommates

y’all into angsty exes? i know this is the end of the world and all but that don’t mean wE CAN’T get SAD

someone she became friends w via… skating yikes akjdfha i swear that’s not her only personality trait

someone she agreed to tutor!! or study buddies!! ‘i’m going to cry literal tears on my flashcards please study with me!’

someone she was forced to be friend with post-storm. they step on each other’s toes but suck it up for the sake of everyone else

i .. love combining ideas and brainstorming too so!!! we can also do that!!

if you made it this far i’m literally going to cry bc i love you already for reading a rambling like this . aNYWAY !! that’s my esme. feel free to smash the like and i’ll come to you or message me on discord!!

#hallowayintro #OOOOOF #admin b is most certainly not killing it today #but pls just.... love me anyway

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angelaiswriting · 5 years

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Todorovsky | Larisa Goncharova x Aleksandr Todorovsky

[original picture found on: pinterest]

✏️ Pairings: Larisa Goncharova x Aleksandr Todorovsky (both OCs)

✏️ Requested by my sick mind (but also my thirst for Alexander Skarsgård)

✏️ Summary: the Red Room, the sterilization, the Mantis Program and Shura: how Larisa’s story came to be.

✏️ A/N: oh. ohohohOH. This story is so wrong on so many levels HAHA I’m sorry, but please, let me know what you think of it anyway! Also please, share with your friends to spread this story since I didn’t know what tags to use considering that both are OCs haha

✏️ ALSO check out this amazing moodboard @flowers-in-your-hayr did for Aleksandr Todorovsky! Thank you so much, girl, you’re an angel, I wish I were brave enough to be friends haha 💛

✏️ Warnings: NSFW, so 18+ only or I will BLOCK you: manipulation, age gap, underage sex I guess (Lara is 17), slow burn, masturbation, fingering, oral (both m/r and f/r), sex with age difference, unprotected sex, sort of authority kink/play/idk what it is, general sexual themes. I think this is all, let me know if you find anything else. MINORS, DON’T INTERACT!

✏️ Word-count: 11,941 (i had to cut it short hahaha)

[You can find the following instalments in my masterlist]

TODOROVSKY

The sun was hot on her face and dazzling in the big space of the office. It glimmered on the mirror-wall at her left and it cast delicate plays of light as it reflected through the crystal spheres the doctor had on his desk.

Aleksandr Todorovsky himself, though, was absent. He had sent one of the janitors to call Larisa Efimovna, as busy as the other girls in the ballet room, with the orders to bring her to his office. And while she had been in there for almost half an hour now, according to the clock in front of her on the desk, he had still to show up.

Larisa didn’t mind. She loved the peace and tranquillity of the room, loved its silence. Even more, she loved the soft leather of the armchair she was sitting in, how comfortably it seemed to hug her tired body, how her hands slid along its armrests–how immensely huge it felt around her.

Even more than that, she loved the faint perfume that seemed to linger everywhere in the room, the same one that made every single one of the girls giggle in the dormitories because it belonged to the man of the Academy. Worn leather, tobacco, and underneath that, the delicate notes of the soap he used for his hands.

A sly grin stretched her lips as she rubbed her thighs together. The fact that she hadn’t had the time to get out of the black bodysuit and white thigh-high socks, put on above the nude tights she wore underneath for ballet practice as per the Red Room’s rules was of no help, for she could feel the slippery soft touch of the leather underneath her legs.

Just then, the door of the office silently opened–and she became aware of that just because a cool breeze, probably caused by one of the open windows in the corridor, slipped in, caressing the back of her head and making the curtains shiver. Then, the sound of shoes on the fair linoleum of the floor caught her ear and she did her best not to turn around, to slow down the deafening beating of her heart until she was calm again.

She simply stood up, hands clasped behind her back, eyes still trained on the empty office chair in front of her, so close and yet so far, on the other side of the desk. She had a vague idea of the reason why she had been called here, outside of Todorovsky’s office hours, and she was doing her best not to let it influence her too much.

“Larisa Efimovna,” the man smiled, flashing his perfectly white teeth in one of those grins that made every girl’s knees bend and heart flutter. He pointed at her with one lean hand, palm facing upward, and motioned for her to sit. “I’m glad you could come.”

His grey eyes had always successfully managed to momentarily distract her and today was no exception. She swallowed before she remembered what he had ordered her to do and she settled back into the armchair.

“I wasn’t given much of a choice, sir,” she tried to humor, even though all she could hear was the furious thud-thud of her heart in her ears.

There was something in this towering man that pushed her on edge: her hands slightly sweated and a dull throbbing never failed to start between her legs. But he was a forbidden dream: he was part of the professional body and no student would ever have a chance at taking that small step forward that went beyond a professional relationship. It didn’t matter how much every girl in the academy dreamed of slipping into his bed: nothing like that had even the slightest chance of happening.

He chuckled. “We’re in the privacy of my office now, Lara. You can call me Aleksandr–or Sasha if you prefer.”

The way he pronounced her name, so softly, with such intimacy, almost made her gasp. It forced blood to rush to her cheeks, sent a shiver down her spine that went straight to the slow dampening she felt between her legs.

“Aleksandr,” she smiled, savoring his name.

She never broke eye contact; she wanted to see any change in his expression at her calling him by his name. His eyes twinkled and he sat back against his own chair, crossing one leg over the other and making his fingertips touch before his chest, elbows resting on the armrests.

“How are your studies going?”

It was an unexpected question, and even more so coming not from a professor but from a doctor. A surgeon. It disoriented her for a moment as she stared at him, at the delicate lines of his face, at his blonde hair slicked back, at the light stubble on his cheeks.

Against what her usual behavior had become, she stuttered before she managed to stabilize her voice. “Very well, sir,” she frowned.

“No ‘sir’ in here, Lara,” he reminded her.

His smile eased her out of the nervousness that had washed over her upon realizing her mistake. It wasn’t like her, to forget rules and orders, but Aleksandr was so young compared to the rest of the professional body, so beautiful and charming that a mistake on her part shouldn’t have been a surprise.

“I apologize, Aleksandr.” And for as hard as she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to call him Sasha, to be that tiny bit more intimate with him. If this was some sort of test, she sure as hell wanted to pass it.

“I heard you defeated the best agent the agency sent here for the monthly training with you, three days ago,” he continued. “And the other students, of course.”

Heat rushed to Lara’s cheeks and she had to force herself not to turn away, but to keep her eyes fixed on his. Not an easy task, not when it came to such a fascinating man. “I did.”

“I also know he threw you down the balcony of the training room before you managed to knock him out.” The tone of Aleksandr’s voice turned serious now and it was at that moment that she turned her head slightly downward and to the left, towards the mirror not to lose sight of him. “Rumor has it, you fell on your back. I didn’t see your name on the admission sheet in the infirmary, though. A fall on your back is never something you should overlook.”

Lara knew, then and there, that he was lying: she might not have gone to the infirmary, but her coordinator had dragged her to the attending physician for a preventive check-up and everything had turned out to be in order–just a bruised back, but no broken bones. She still chose to play his game, though, just to see where it led. “I’m fine, it’s just a bruise.”

“I am the doctor, though, Lara.” God, if he said her name like that again, she was sure she would moan out loud–stoic façade be damned. “I should be the one determining whether this is just about a bruise or something worse, am I right?”

She shivered, but still tried to hide it. “I apologize, sir.” Her eyes snapped back to his when she bit her tongue just to find him smirking. “Aleksandr,” she corrected herself. “I didn’t think…”

He let her voice fade and didn’t ask for her to finish her sentence. He could see the deep rise and fall of her chest–and of her breasts underneath the black cotton of the tank top of her bodysuit–and that was enough for him. Wrong, of course, probably immoral and definitely unethical, but enough. “Go sit on the table,” he ordered, standing up and pointing at the paper-covered table near the wall on the side of the office, right in front of the mirror-wall.

She stood, the movement as mechanical as that of a robot, for the Academy had made sure she got used to obeying such an order. Every girl stood up when the headmaster passed by in the hallways, when the coordinators entered the classroom, and even in the refectory, no one sat before professors, guards and doctors had taken a seat at their table.

But now, when she turned around, she noticed the reason behind Aleksandr’s sly grin. There was no way he wouldn’t see her bare upper body in the mirror when she’d let the shoulder straps of her bodysuit slide down her arms. She had obviously dreamed of such a situation, and even more so with the pretty doctor the Academy had hired a few years ago, but to be faced by this same eventuality made her uncomfortable now.

Her feet still dragged her to the table, though, one trembling step after the other, and she was terribly aware of the man’s gaze fixed on the bruises visible on the exposed skin of her shoulders. They hurt–every movement, every tensing and relaxing of the muscles brought her back to that afternoon when the breath had been knocked out of her lungs by the sudden contact between her back and the hard floor of the training room. And even though not a single sound had left her lips, not even when tears had blurred her vision, it had managed to empty her mind for a good minute before she eventually managed to come back to reality.

She sat on the table, the paper towel crumpling underneath her and her feet dangling above the floor. Her breathing had turned deeper and every breath seemed to burn its way up her lungs, her esophagus, her nose as her whole being tensed in anticipation. To hide the slight tremor in her hands, she had to cage them between her thighs while still doing anything in her power to keep on a stubbornly emotionless façade, even when all her heat had rushed to her cheeks.

Todorovsky stood behind her, on the other side of the table, and his hands came to rest on her shoulders–his cool skin burning its way through her boiling one until she thought she felt his touch in her bones. She could see him in the mirror and he flashed her one of his many gentle smiles as his thumbs hooked underneath the straps of the bodysuit.

His touch made her swallow hard and as his fingers slid along the line of her shoulders, her lips couldn’t but part as she tried not to gasp. The coolness of his skin made goosebumps wash over hers and the shiver that ran down her spine made her wiggle on her spot.

“Does it hurt?”

It took everything she had to maintain eye contact with his reflection. “No, it’s just… cold.”

She shrugged her shoulders slightly just to then freeze up again when his thumbs dragged the straps down her arms. Inch by excruciating inch, more of the skin of her breasts and then of her abdomen got exposed until her bodysuit was pooled around her waist. Nipples hard and beaded, her hands came up to cover herself before she had the time to stop them and she averted her gaze from him, focusing it on the carillon showcased on one of the shelves in the office. To show him how much he affected her wasn’t exactly in her plans.

Aleksandr chuckled, the sound so close to her that she swore she felt the vibrations in his chest against her back as his lips brushed against her earlobe. “Tell me if it hurts.” His voice had dropped and he sounded almost breathless as she tried her best not to indulge in the fantasies she had shared many a time with Nasha.

She felt his long fingers skim down her spine, cool fingertips pressing into her bruised back here and there as she nodded in answer to his subtle command.

Such close proximity on his part made her mind foggy. And while he had visited her many a time already, somehow today felt different. For starters, he had never made her face the mirror-wall for he had never visited her in this office. This was more like his personal space, where he read articles and organized visits and wrote medical reports, but that she knew of, none of the girls had ever been in there.

He was also closer than he had ever been–and probably much closer than it would be deemed appropriate. She could feel his breath behind her right ear, fanning against her skin and hair. The smell of the sandalwood of his cologne seemed to blurry her mind even more, pushing her to slowly let her eyes fall closed.

“Relax, don’t tense your back,” Todorovsky murmured against the shell of her ear and she couldn’t help but obey as her hands loosened their grasp on her breasts and fell down into her lap.

She winced when he pressed down on a particularly throbbing bruise, her muscles tensing up again at the suddenness of that unexpected surge of pain. But his touch was gone before she had the time to complain and the frown that had all of a sudden creased her forehead quickly relaxed as she heavily exhaled from her nose.

Then, just as unexpectedly, his fingertips grazed the sides of her breasts and her eyes shot open as she gasped. Aleksandr Todorovsky was grinning at her in the mirror and there was a glint of mischief in the slightly bluer grey of his eyes.

Larisa met up again with Todorovsky–Aleksandr–a week later and while she should have expected to be called into his private office, it still came as a surprise when she was summoned during one of the spare hours, that Friday.

Sitting in the same armchair she sat in the first time, all she could think of was the smirk Nasha had sent her way as all blood rushed to her cheeks when she stood up from the armchair she had been sitting in, in the library. The hot sensation was still there, even now, boiling under the skin of her face as she did her best to avoid the man’s inquiring gaze.

It was hard to keep herself busy on the rainstorm raging outside, blowing slaps of water on the glass of the windows behind Aleksandr. The occasional lightning illuminated him from behind, turning the shadows on his face in the dimly lit room darker. The thunders that followed made goosebumps wash over the exposed skin of her arms as she tried her best not to go back to a week before.

“How are you feeling?” the man asked, leaning back against his chair, hands resting on the armrests.

His stance looked more powerful and dominating than the one he had shown her the first time. He had pushed his office chair a couple of steps back from the desk and she could see his legs were spread wide–the sight almost made her gasp. He was in civilian clothes and it didn’t help the ever-expanding flush slowly crawling down her neck.

She swallowed, looking at anything but his face. The pole with the country’s flag was standing upside down in the crystal sphere in front of her, the red material twisting in the darkness of the afternoon and the vengeful force of the storm. “I’m fine, thank you,” she managed to say as an unsure half-smile stretched her lips. “How are you feeling?”

Natasha’s insinuations kept on flashing back and forth in her mind, bringing her back to eight days before. Lara had told her everything that had happened in Todorovsky’s office–how he had made her face the mirror-wall as she sat there half-naked, how he had touched each and every bruise on the battered skin of her back, how his fingers had flirtatiously grazed the skin of her breasts–and she couldn’t help the growing throbbing between her legs.

If anything, her friend had pushed her into the embrace of bliss a couple of times with her tongue and fingers. And now, faced by her one and only fantasy in flesh and bone, it was hard not to think about how desperately she wanted him to do to her what Natasha had so diligently done.

Good soldiers, that’s what they were. Always ready and hopeless in their will to obey and serve–to bow before who had the power. Not that Larisa bowed easily, that had to be recognized and said, and it was something that would never change with time, but she did kneel in front of those she deemed worthy.

“I’ve been better.” The earnest exhaustion in Aleksandr’s voice forced her to focus on his face instead of the terrible weather outside the safe nest of the Red Room.

She consciously looked at him for the first time that day–scanned the lines of fatigue marking his beautiful face, the frown wrinkling his forehead. His hair was in disarray, almost as though he had spent the whole day waving his fingers through it. For some foreign and unexpected reason, she found herself clenching her thighs at that mental image.

She cleared her throat, hesitated for a moment before shifting in her seat. “Did you need something, Aleksandr?” Worry crept up her spine: she didn’t know whether she was still allowed to call him that, but a look at his tired smile and her uneasiness dissipated.

“I’ve been told you haven’t been behaving,” he sighed, head lolling back against the backrest of the chair. “Is that true?”

Lara didn’t answer. Instead, she let her gaze wander again in the room until it landed on the music box on the shelf to Aleksandr’s right. It was the same she had noticed as he had been checking the bruises on her back, the one with the prince and princess dancing in the immortal beauty of the open Fabergé egg the music box was.

“It is,” she answered after a while, voice weak and overpowered by the scream of the thunder outside. To admit such truth out loud and to him of all people filled her with shame. She had no problem defying the whole Academy, but when it came to Todorovsky… Every girl had problems keeping up with their tantrums when he got involved. He was simply so young and breath-taking, so caring in a way, that it was almost like admitting every single one of your sins to your babushka.

“And why is that?” he demanded.

She wished to be the dancing girl in that music box, perfect in that imperfect immobility, minuscule and powerless against the wind blowing and howling outside. She wished to be held like the prince was holding the princess, because she knew that someone would have her back, then. Nasha would have felt uncomfortable with the deep gaze of such a man on her, too–there was no way she would keep her cool, of this Larisa was sure.

But it took her too long to answer, the silence stretching out between her and the young doctor, only intermittently broken by flashes of lightning and thunders. She barely heard him stand up and walk to stand behind her, lost as she was in the attempt to avoid the problem.

“Why is that, Lara?” His voice was a whisper in her ear. It made her shiver and snap back to reality with a barely audible gasp–one Aleksandr Todorovsky did hear, though.

“I…” It was suddenly hard to swallow. Her breathing had picked up its pace, her hands were fighting to fidget with each other.

“Answer me.” His lips pressed on the tender skin on her neck, under her ear, and she found herself holding her breath. “Why aren’t you behaving?”

How could she tell him it was his fault? How could she do such a thing without the risk of repercussion? It was one thing to get punished by the coordinator or one of the teachers, but it was a completely different matter when it came to him–after he had seen her, watched her, touched her.

“I’ve heard something about the graduation ceremony, sir,” she eventually admitted, her breath trembling when she exhaled: he had moved to her left to sit down into the armchair next to hers. “Something about the… the last trial.” It was not like her to stutter, but it also wasn’t like she was used to such close proximity to such a fascinating man.

His hand came up to rest on her knee, above the light cotton of her skirt, and she felt herself clench around nothing. His fingertips pressed into her skin in a gentle and quick squeeze before they skimmed under the hem of her skirt, gently pushing it a couple of centimeters upward.

He was waiting for her to continue, for her to say it, and she couldn’t help the deep rising and falling of her chest as all she could think of was the degenerated fantasy Natasha had helped her develop in the last week. The warmth of his fingers against her bare skin wasn’t helping, either, not when she felt him stare at the side of her face with that piercing, steely gaze of his.

“The sterilization,” she managed to choke out as she involuntarily tensed the muscles in her thighs.

He sighed and before she could understand what he wanted to do, he grabbed her armchair and forced it around until she was staring at him, his armchair still facing forward. “You don’t want it.” It wasn’t hard to guess what was going on in her mind. She wasn’t the first girl showing signs of discomfort and rebellion at the idea and she was definitely not going to be the last, but she was indeed the first to put her education at the Academy in danger.

“No, I…”

“You want kids.”

She nodded.

“This is a very important step, Lara.” His voice was soft but his eyes were hard and she didn’t know who to trust more. His hands came up to rest on her thighs again as he leaned over the armrest of his chair and the thought that this wasn’t exactly professional conduct suddenly flashed before her eyes. She clenched her thighs shut. “I hope you do understand. While it may have a downside, it brings along many advantages.”

“Like what?” She hadn’t meant for the tone of her voice to be so blunt and defying, but it was now too late to take it back.

“No need to worry on missions,” he started, sitting back against his armchair and turning his head to the side to keep staring at her. “No need to worry about unprotected sex, or about an unexpected pregnancy, just to make a couple of examples.”

“This is irreversible, though.”

He shrugged. “Unfortunately, it is.” He didn’t say a word after that and she kept quiet, too, almost too scared to even breathe because she didn’t know what her punishment was going to be, yet. Then, when the raging rainstorm seemed to calm a little, Aleksandr spoke again. “Do you want children?”

It was an easy enough question and yet, the idea of telling him she did, in fact, want children in the future made her bite her tongue. There was no particular reason behind such behavior, no well-known fear. She had never admitted it out loud–no one at the Academy ever had, but it was definitely a fantasy all the students had entertained at least once.

Then, before she could let herself turn into a real coward, she nodded. “Yes.”

He stared at her, head slightly tilted backward, and one of his hands moved back on one of her knees. Under his insistent gaze, she almost felt naked. He had a way to look at her… She didn’t know what it was–his eyes, his face, the ghost of a smirk on his lips, his tousled caramel blonde hair… It made her feel less of a soldier and more of a… girl? A young woman? A person?

“I’m going to do something I shouldn’t do, now,” he said after a while and his gaze swept down her neck, the slight neckline created by the first two buttons of her blouse she left unbuttoned, and then down her chest until he seemed to stop it between her legs, on the dark blue cotton of her skirt. “Because, you see, I like you.” In a heartbeat, his gaze was focused on hers again and both its intensity and his words made her blush.

She didn’t think, not even for a moment, that he might be saying so because she was one of the best students the Red Room had had in its whole history, not when his hand squeezed her knee again and again slipped underneath the hem of her skirt to caress her thigh.

She swallowed, trying to focus on his face and on anything else at the same time. But then, as childish and starved of affection as she was, she found herself whispering: “You do?”

Aleksandr hummed, his fingertips now dangerously close to the throbbing heat between her legs. His thumb brushed the tender skin of her inner thigh before his hand stopped just a breath away from her panties. “You intrigue me,” he seemed to confess, voice lowering and turning deeper as he forced his armchair to turn so that he could be face-to-face with her. “I was deeply disappointed to hear of your misconduct, though,” he continued, moving so close that one of his knees nestled between hers and pressed against the front of her armchair. “I hope you’ll be worth it. Because, you see, I’m risking my whole career for you.”

“Sir, I-”

He hushed her, leaning closer. He could feel her breath on his lips and her clean scent tickled his nostrils. In his defense, it should be said that he never thought about one of the students the way she thought about Lara. She made him feel ten years younger and she had quickly managed to occupy his mind in both waking and sleeping hours. And while he was aware of what the other girls said and thought about him, he wanted to know whether she agreed with the general consensus.

“We had settled for Aleksandr, Lara.”

His lips brushed against her cheek when he murmured his answer and all she could do was tense, force her hands to stay in her lap and not stretch out to grab a hold of his shoulders.

“Aleksandr,�� she whispered back, voice trembling against the side of his face as she breathed him in. The burning smell of cigarettes was stronger today and while she usually didn’t like such stench, it got to her head now.

“I will need you to maintain the secret, though. No one in the Academy must know I’m doing this for you.” His thumb swiped over her inner thigh again and he moved back enough to stare into her eyes. “You understand?”

“I do, yes.” She was panting, her thighs tensing, her core clenching as she looked up at him with only one thought in her mind: she wanted him to devour her. “No one will know.” But she wanted to, wanted to know what he was set on risking his career for.

“I will need a couple of days to think about this. You think you can hang on until then?”

“So, what is it that he wants to do?”

Natasha kept on bugging her, wanting to know what Todorovsky’s plan was, but Larisa still didn’t have an answer to give to her friend. He had kept it a secret and she was still impatiently waiting to know what he had come up with.

She knew very well what she had promised Aleksandr–not to tell anybody–but she and Nasha had always been attached to the hip and there was no way she could–or would–keep that secret from her. And even though it could have been a cause of jealousy or bigger bugs in their friendship, she had had to tell her.

“I told you, I don’t know,” she groaned.

They were sitting in a secluded spot in the park of the Academy, two days after Larisa’s unexpected meeting with Aleksandr. The tree behind their back provided them with its cool shadow, a much-needed relief on that unexpectedly-hot day.

“When are you meeting him again, then?”

“I don’t know, but I hope soon.” Lara had her head tilted back, against the coarse bark of the tree, her eyes closed and lips stretched into a wide grin.

Natasha kept quiet for a couple of seconds before she burst out laughing. “God, Lara, you’re smitten!”

“Shut it, I’m not!” She was giggling, though, feeling so lightheaded that the soreness in her limbs didn’t seem to be able to truly reach her.

“I’m quite sure he likes you, too.” Nasha didn’t seem willing to let the object of their constant talking go, not yet at least.

“He doesn’t.”

“He does, he even told you so!”

“Polite shop talk, Natasha.”

“What are you talking about?” She felt her friend move and when she opened her eyes, Nasha was sitting right in front of her. “Why would you think that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I just…” She sighed, looking up at the sky. “I haven’t exactly been following the orders and they want me back on track, subdued. What if he’s offering this way out to have me back as I always were?”

“I say, who cares, Lara! This is your great opportunity and if there’s even the slightest chance of you getting out of here in one piece, then take it!”

“You’re thinking about the KGB side program, aren’t you?”

Natasha nodded.

The program didn’t have a name, not that she and the girls in the Red Room were aware of, at least. But its objective was clear and everybody knew it: a further evolution of the Academy, but without the detachment trauma and all the roubles the various agencies had to spend on future agents. She knew everyone compared it to a breeding farm, but Lara was sure that things weren’t that sick. If she only managed to get out of there and find herself a man–maybe even Aleksandr Todorovsky himself–and join the program, then…

“Think about it. You’d get to do what we’re trained to do and other than that, you’ll be able to have children. I’d give anything to have your chance.” Despite the hurt in her words, Natasha was beaming. “Of course, they want you to behave. Just keep up your game, snatch the golden ticket from the hot doctor’s hand and both you and the Academy will have your victory.”

“I want you to-”

“Don’t risk the chance you have. This program is not for girls like us, remember that. If Todorovsky manages to add your name to the list, that’s already something and we both know it’s not going to be easy. Don’t risk adding my name as well. I’ll be out of here in a couple of months anyway, but you have almost one year ahead of you before graduation.”

“We take what we have. Is this the line you’re going to play?”

Nasha grinned and pulled her in for a hug. “We will meet again once you’re out. I’ll come looking for you, yeah?”

She was rushed to Aleksandr’s private office on that Friday afternoon. Her trainer had looked annoyed by the fact that the coordinators were snatching Larisa Efimovna from yet another training session, but there was nothing the woman could do without risking going against the Academy’s executives.

The guard left her just outside the office door and it took her a minute to even out her breathing and to gather the wits to knock. The hollow sound of her knuckles on wood seemed to echo all around her and in the brief minute it took Todorovsky to cross the room and open the door, Lara’s heartbeat had already picked up its rhythm, knocking against her temples.

One could say, without the faintest trace of doubt, that Aleksandr Todorovsky stole the breath right out of her lungs, that day, as she stood there, gaping like a fish out of water.

He had always been a sight for sore eyes, there was–and most likely never will be–no denying that. But that day, all Lara could think of, was that he was magnificent. He looked like the embodiment of any heart-fluttering dream she had ever had and when she noticed his hair combed back, she had to fight against the weakness that seemed to have overcome her legs.

“Lara,” he greeted, voice as charming as ever as he took a step back to let her pass.

She entered the office, head empty and fermenting with thoughts she shouldn’t be having at the same time. For once, she almost felt like she was a real girl and not just a doll turned into an unyielding soldier.

“Shura.” The name was out there before she could stop it, before she could process such a bold way of speaking had even crossed her mind. And when she turned toward him to apologize for such a behavior, she found herself at a loss for words once again.

Aleksandr had been quick at silently closing the door as soon as she had entered and for some reason, such a realization had a shiver to course through her whole body. In front of him in the usual–and old–tank top and shorts of the uniform used for combat training, she had never felt more naked.

The office was even more tidy than usual, if possible. Three books had been neatly stacked in the center of the desk, the chairs had been symmetrically positioned in front of it and the drawn curtains prevented her from seeing the bright light of the afternoon.

“I’ve been thinking about my proposal.” Aleksandr’s seductive voice made the baby hairs on the back of her hair stand up on their ends, for he had moved closer to her while she had been lost in her own thoughts. His hands were on her shoulders before she knew it and his lips brushed her ear shell just a moment later.

She swallowed at his proximity and boy, was it hard. Lara had forgotten how hard and fast her heart could beat in Todorovsky’s presence. “You have?” Mouth dry, all she could hear was the raging drumming of her heart in her temples and his cool breath fanning her right ear.

He hummed, steering her until she was facing the well-disguised door of the small bathroom of his office. “I’m taking you somewhere tonight, so you better get cleaned up and dressed, you don’t want to be late.”

It was wrong, the way he felt about her, the way he took her–drank her–in, the thoughts that overcame him at night. She was young, way younger than him, and it was also against the Academy’s rules. There were literally a million and one reasons for why that was bad and despite his good sense, his moral sense, he couldn’t help himself.

Aleksandr had spent the whole car ride to Moscow peeking at her from the corner of his eye. With her hair down, her icy eyes framed by dark kajal, she looked older than she really was and that dress… Growing up, blue had always been his favorite color, not red. And yet, he had somehow chosen that color when he had commissioned that evening dress and his preferences were now shifting towards the hotter color.

She looked… impossible. Impossible to have, impossible to reach, impossible to even be real. The gown was sleek, the bodice form-fitting, the neckline plunging, the tear in the front of the dress showcased a leg made for ballet when she walked. Just the view of her like that had made him grip on the steering wheel with all the strength he had.

And even now, as she mingled with Bakatin’s guests, trying to ignore the way many looked at her, she felt worlds apart. She was the definition of charming: she seemed to always know what to say to everyone, how to act and move, even how to smile and laugh at terrible jokes.

She almost made him forget about the plan he had to carry out, the lies he had to feed her. They made him feel bad, the lies. He looked at her, so hopeful and happy, with that same spark in her eyes as when he had told her about that family side program that didn’t exist, and he wished the ground would swallow him whole.

It was like being the point of contention: on the one hand there was her and the right thing to do, on the other anything that was wrong in this world–the lies he had to tell her to keep her compliant, the way he felt about her, the things he wanted to do to her, the ways he wanted to touch and have her.

He had become a surgeon to save lives, he reminded himself when Lara briefly turned towards him and blinded him with one of those charming smiles of her. He hadn’t wanted to study medicine at first, he had simply complied to the plans his parents had laid out for him even before he was born, but the prospected profession had eventually grown on him. When he had graduated and the KGB had pretty much enlisted him, six months before he had been acquired by the Academy, he would have never thought he’d end up deceiving his own patients.

Nor falling for one of them.

“So, this party is like a showcase, right?”

It took his brain a minute to process and truly hear her words. He had unconsciously led her towards the balcony and as he thought of an answer, the gurgling of the immense fountain was the only background noise he could focus on. Eventually, not knowing what to say or even if he wanted to say anything, he just nodded.

“Am I doing a good job?” she asked, moving to stand before him and handing him a flute of champagne. The thin glass had already been fogged by the cold temperature of the drink.

She was doing a great job and the dress, for which he had relied on the tailor, wasn’t but helping her. She proved to have a great body if he had to be honest, one the Red Room had managed to mold into a killing machine.

“You’re doing great,” he smiled, swallowing the contents of his glass in one sip–he was going to need more than that if he wanted to survive the night.

Lara’s grin made him hate himself that tad bit more but it only lasted for a second: she leaned forward, pressed a kiss on his cheek, closer to the corner of his mouth than the Academy’s rules would ever allow, and the dark thoughts floating in his mind got swallowed by the hunger consuming him.

He had kissed her. He had accompanied her back to the Academy, the evening after the party, and he had kissed her right in front of the staircase that led to the girls’ dormitories.

The memory had been a major distraction, one that had done more harm than good, for it finally got her punished. But even now, strapped to the table with a blindfold covering her eyes and her ears stuffed, all she could think about was Shura.

She had accidentally called him that again, a couple days before, but he hadn’t seemed to mind, not if the kiss that had turned her knees into jelly had to be considered an indicator.

The feeling of his lips on hers was still there. They had been soft and almost hesitant, more gentle than she would have ever thought her first kiss to be. He had had her face in his hands, so big compared to her, and so warm that they had made the skin of her whole body tingle as the breath got knocked out of her lungs. It had felt both right and wrong at the same time, for she knew that what they had–or could have–was impossible and even worse than that, forbidden.

The problem was, he was pleasant–both to look at and to listen to. He was witty and charming, and he must have cared about her or he wouldn’t be risking his career and his life to keep her uterus inside her body. She knew she had fallen for him more easily than she should have, but she had never felt so cared for and looked after–never so loved if she could have considered it that way.

If before he had been an insistent but fleeting thought among the ordered chaos in her mind, he had now turned into the center of her whole being. She found herself thinking about him more often than not–about his sparkling blue-gray eyes, the softness of his hair, the gentle brushing of his stubble, the safety of his arms, the sheer authority his whole body radiated.

Even now, bombarded by the almost absolute silence broken by her heartbeat, he was all she could feel. Her blood boiled and thrummed in her veins, deafening her, and the unbearable need to squirm under the restraints keeping her down was probably the hardest part of the punishment, for she was terribly aware of the slow-dampening of her panties, something that had nothing to do with the training she had just got out of.

And the more time passed, the deeper her breathing got, almost scorching as she fought to control it, to keep her stoic mask on–she didn’t want the sensory-deprivation room’s technician to develop suspicions about what was going on in her mind.

And in her body.

Caught between the need she felt for Sasha and the awareness that what she felt for him was unethical, she felt stupid. She had been training her whole life not to be conditioned by anybody, and here she was now, melting down in front of a man. She wasn’t going to fight it, though, not when it looked like he wanted her, too.

She was the luckiest girl in the whole Academy, or so she and Nasha thought–erroneously. He didn’t show it, of course, not, he would never risk going against the Academy and its executives, but she and her friend knew he only had eyes for her.

For the first time in her life, she felt important. And it was probably childish to feel so just because a man–and an older one at that–wanted her, too. She felt important and invincible and for the first time ever since she had come to the Academy, she felt like she belonged–among those people, in that dangerous life that awaited her outside the walls of the Red Room, in a world ruled by cruelty and deceit. And she belonged there because she had someone to call her own, someone to protect her, someone that wasn’t Natasha.

She was definitely thinking far more ahead than she should have, fantasizing more than she was allowed to–fantasizing more than she should allow herself to. But she couldn’t help it, not now that she was immobile, blind and deaf and had nothing better to think about to pass the time until they let her go.

An hour and a half later, when she left the punishment room, Aleksandr was there, leaning against the wall in front of the door. Fuzzy-headed as she was, she thought he was just a figment of her own imagination.

He simply couldn’t be there.

But the hands that grabbed her biceps to steady her were more than real and she could have never conceived the worried tone of his voice for the simple reason that she had never heard it before.

“Everything alright?”

He was staring at her in the eyes but all she could see was his face a few nights before, when he had kissed her. He still had his faint, ash-blond stubble and his hair was sleeked back–it didn’t matter that he was clean-shaven now and that his hair was tousled after a long day of work.

She wanted him to kiss her again. She craved his lips on hers, craved them more than she had ever craved anything before in life–probably more than she’ll ever crave anything in the future. But she didn’t dare ask him that, so she simply nodded her answer even though she wasn’t sure she was still a person, to begin with.

He had to accompany her to the nearest staircase so that she could sit on a step, for she was clearly weaker than she wanted him to think–to see.

“We’re going back to my chambers,” he stated, kneeling down in front of her and tilting her head up so that he could look into her glossy eyes. “I’ll make sure you’re alright before I send you back to your dormitory.”

She didn’t oppose herself to the proposition and when she agreed on following him, neither of them knew things were about to go downhill.

The skin of his chest was scalding against hers just as her breasts were burning against him. Laying on his back, he had an arm around her as she laid on her side, tracing absent-minded patterns on the skin of his stomach.

Neither of them knew what to say–nor if saying anything was a good idea after what they had done.

The only certainty in the room was, Aleksandr Sergeyevich Todorovsky had never deflowered anybody, not before Lara. The knowledge that it was wrong was slowly creeping up on him but a couple of hours before, when they had ended up giving in to each other, it had felt like the only right thing in the world.

They had somehow ended up kissing–again–and while his morals should have prevailed, should have stopped him from going further, he had been too weak in front of her and he had given in. She had opened up to him like a four o’clock flower just to then swallow him whole. He had let his light fade into darkness, too, and he, too, had swallowed her whole.

And now, sweaty bodies against each other, both of them were too lost in the memory of what had happened to realize it was now approaching three in the morning.

She had been so young and pure with that body of an angel, with those eyes that seemed to speak any and every language–that seemed to speak to his soul. He had kissed every inch of her trembling body and even now, she could still feel the feathery touch of his lips pressing everywhere–her lips, her face, her neck, her breasts, the side of her breasts, her nipples, her stomach, her…

Her face had turned blood-red when he had hidden his face between her legs and she had had to cover her own face in embarrassment, for she didn’t want him to see her like that–so vulnerable and breakable, a crystal flower threatening to shatter. She had already felt good, both by her own hands and by Natasha’s, but that… That had reached a whole new level of pleasure, it had shot her through any astral plane to ever exist.

Shura could still taste her on his tongue, too, and even on his lips when he licked them to moisture them a little, his hand tracing soothing circles on the skin of her back. If he’d ever have to describe it, he’d say she tasted like sin–so good and sweet that it was a whole new sin in and of itself. And she had been so hot and wet, so tight when he had pushed that one finger inside her that…

His loins tensed at the memory and he couldn’t stop himself from looking down at her. She had her eyes closed and a tired, bright smile stretching her lips, her cheek pressed against his right pec.

She was a sin and the best dream of his life and he wondered how such things could coexist in one single person at the same time.

When he had come up with his deceiving plan, he never would have thought he’d end up with Lara in his bed. Never would have thought he’d one day take her nor that she’d let him take her. He felt both important and invincible, even now that they were resting in each other’s arms.

To think that someone like her had let someone like him take her virginity away… He wasn’t one to philosophize about virginity and the loss of it: he had never given it much importance, not before today, that is–and not even after today. The thing was, every girl in the Red Room Academy was way more superior to him than he’d ever be: they were unreachable, untouchable and even though this should have been the reality of things, he had managed to snatch the very pride of the whole organization.

And he took pride in the way he had made her feel, in the times he had made her come–mouth, fingers, dick, he had shot her to the Moon and back with all he had to offer and in change, she had done the same. Her vagina had been so tight he would have come as soon as he had pushed in if only he didn’t have some sort of self-control.

She had cried–in pleasure, as she moaned his name like a sinful litany in the otherwise absolute calm of his bedroom. Sighs, pants, moans–those four walls had witnessed it all, all the way up to the half-contained whine of pleasure she had let out when they had come together.

“I should go.” Her voice trembled, her breath fanned his cooling skin and it all snapped him out of his reverie. “It’s getting late.”

Aleksandr hummed, slightly moving down the mattress as he turned on his side to look at her. Her eyes were as glossy as they had been when she had exited the sensory-deprivation room, but for a completely different reason now. It made him smile, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone.

“You should,” he agreed, hand leaving her cheek and moving down her side until it stopped behind her bent knee. He pulled her leg over his thigh so that she could hook it around his waist. “I don’t want you getting in trouble.”

Their words spoke one thing, but their actions seemed to disagree. She let him move her leg and he let her get closer to him, so close that his hardening erection pressed against her lower abdomen.

For a moment–a fleeting, insignificant moment–he wished he could let her leave the Academy as she entered, wished he could see that same belly grow with the child she’d one day carry, wished he could see her breasts swell as the pregnancy progressed. But then, half a second later, that thought was gone and he was left lusting over her again.

“This must remain between the two of us,” he warned her, tilting her head slightly up and pressing a kiss against her lips. He swiped the tip of his tongue over her lower lip, brushed it against her teeth until she granted him access.

She melted in the kiss.

Their encounters didn’t end that day even though they should have. Lara didn’t even tell Nasha about that first night, not for a couple of days at least, when it became impossible to keep the secret from her best friend.

She had told her to stop. In hindsight, Larisa would agree with her friend and would chastise herself for being so childishly blind, but back then, as she slowly but surely blossomed into a woman, all she could see was him–Aleksandr, Sasha, Shura, and all the loving names she called him.

He called her Larochka. She didn’t know why, but that name always managed to make her weak in the knees. She melted inside upon hearing it, her brain stopped working, her heart started to flutter like a caged bird and her insides melted into a pool of lava.

Tonight wasn’t any different.

After that first night two weeks before, he had started to take her to mundane KGB parties. It was nice, to have someone to go with, and it was even better to have someone in whose arms he could end the night–in whose arms he could lose himself.

Larisa was more than he could ever ask for and definitely more than he could take, but he never complained, not even many years later, when he’d end up under her torturing care after having been kidnapped in Italy. She had always been his one and only weakness, even before she started to misbehave, before the Academy appointed him with the order of bringing her back to submission, before he started to feed her lies. To fall for her.

She stood there, in front of him, covered only by the lacy red panties he had bought her to wear with that second red dress. She was a sight to behold: perfect, unblemished skin, toned muscles, innocent eyes, sinner’s lips stretched into a smirk.

Shura thought of every reason why this was wrong, he tried to make them surface above all the other thoughts–the hunger, the need for her, the pulsing straining in the crotch of his tuxedo pants, the thrumming of his heart in his ears. And the more he thought about it, the more he forced himself to think of those reasons, the less he could see them, blurred as they were by the sight he had before his eyes.

It was a dance, one they hadn’t realized they had been dancing until they got to his luxurious hotel room, the one they were going to spend the night locked in. They had been flirting all night, enjoying the party as she tried her best to make a good impression on the executives of the side program, and his hands had been all over her as they danced under the twinkling lights of crystal chandeliers hanging from richly-decorated ceilings–her arms, her bare back, her plump ass.

She had done the same, always stepping closer, always craving contact.

They had both become each other’s drug without them even realizing they were falling so hard and fast until they were left panting in front of the realization. And while they had all the reasons in the world to stop, they turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to them.

They chose each other. Chose the gentle touches and the hungry ones alike, chose the pleasure, chose the prohibition. It was something neither of them could explain–something neither of them wanted to explain, not even years later, when the fire got extinguished, not even when Lara would let her guard down and Clint in. But it was here, in the present, ever-pulsing and burning as bright and hot as the sun, scalding through their veins as they devoured each other with their eyes–her, half-naked and him, still dressed, only his shirt left open and unbuttoned.

Her breathing was ragged–ragged before he even touched her, before he even spoke to her. Nipples beaded, fingers twitching at her sides, her eyes were glazed by pleasure and her panties - wet, her clit throbbing in anticipation and at the sight of him.

He was destruction–she knew it then and she knows it now–and at that moment, that was all she craved. He was good and bad destruction at the same time, burning her skin and awakening her, pulverizing her synapses and bringing her brain to life. All she needed was his eyes on her–running over her body the same way his hands soon would, seeing right through her, pointing straight for her soul.

She didn’t care. She didn’t care to be left bare and vulnerable in front of him because she had never felt safer than in his arms, under his gaze, his hands, his lips, the swipes of his tongue as it glided over her flushed skin. She had never felt as strong as she did when he looked at her almost as though she was his entire world, the beginning and the end of his life, God and the devil at the same time.

Fingers hooking under the elastic band of her skimpy panties, she pushed them down her legs, never breaking eye contact. And when he inhaled, the air hissing as it went up his nostrils and got caught in his throat, she shivered, goosebumps washing over her skin in waves as pleasure pooled in her belly, in her lungs, in her brain.

It was unexplainable, the intensity with which she wanted–needed–him. He was the forbidden, impossible dream come true and it was too much for her brain to process. Every step she took in his direction was a shorter breath, a stronger heartbeat, a foggier mind. And before she could realize it, she was standing in front of him, looking up at him, at his impossible height, at his eyes burning as hot as hers.

“You are my sin,” he murmured, hands coming up to cradle her face as he bent down to peck her lips. “But by God, am I happy to go to hell if it means having you!”

She chuckled against him and when he pulled her closer, so close that her breasts pressed against his chest, the chuckle turned into a raspy gasp bordering a moan.

It took her a second to come back to her wits but when she did, she pushed herself up on her toes and the kiss turned into a clash of lips and teeth and tongues as her fingers tugged on his perfectly-combed hair before sliding down his neck and underneath the cotton of his shirt.

Had she not been kissing him, she would have sighed. He was hot and strong and hard under her touch, broad shoulders making her want to do all kind of bad things to him–making her want to let him do all kind of bad things to her.

His shirt was gone in a matter of seconds, pooled messily on the ground at his feet, and her hands were everywhere on his arms. Her fingers gripped the muscles, her nails grazed his skin until light, red lines could be seen–the only mark she’d ever allow herself to leave on his body, too scared as she was to leave something more, hickeys and love bites and traces of her mouth and lips and tongue.

She fumbled with the button of his pants, then, and he was forced to help her in her ministrations, pushing both pants and briefs down his legs before she kneeled before him.

He couldn’t stop her–didn’t have the time nor the guts to, not when she was looking up at him with eyes blinded by pleasure and need and hunger. Her breasts hung heavy on her chest and he had to do anything in his power to keep himself on his feet, standing, and not crumble down before her and take her in any which way she wanted.

Lara was aware of it, aware of his burning gaze set on her even when she averted hers from his, giving his erection her full attention. She had been scared, the first time–scared to be a bad job, scared to give him a bad impression, scared of coming off as a child in front of her inexperience when it came to men. But he had guided her, told her what to do in the sweetest way possible and she had stared mesmerized at the way his back had arched off of the mattress, his whole body tensed as a bowstring. She had feared he would break, that his spine would snap as she still bobbed her head on his dick, taking him deeper a little more with each passing second.

He hadn’t wanted to come in her mouth and she had stared in wonder at the way his cock had twitched in her hands as she gently stroke him before rope after rope of white semen had painted his stomach and her neck and cleavage alike.

As she gently kissed the tip of his erection now, she found herself hoping to bring him the same pleasure of that first head.

Her breath shivered as she exhaled, fanning over his lower abdomen as one of her hands took a hold of the base of his dick. He felt impossibly huge in her hand and with him there, at her mercy, she felt more powerful than she did gripping a gun.

She tightened her hold slightly as she sank deeper on her heels to lick a stripe up the entire length of his cock. In the brief time that had gone from her first time to tonight, she seemed to have lost all his innocence: the worried questions in her eyes weren’t there anymore, the embarrassment crawling down her neck at being seen naked by a man wasn’t surfacing, and even though her touches were still a little insecure, they seemed to grow bolder and bolder anytime they lost themselves into each other.

“Fuck.” Aleksandr’s voice was hoarse when he groaned, hands shooting down to cradle her head when she wrapped her burning wet mouth around him. His hips bucked forward a little, the tension and excitement making it almost impossible to hold still as she accustomed herself to sucking him off, but he still somehow managed to keep the movement to a minimum.

Lara moaned around him, saliva trickling down his shaft when she bobbed her head up to lick the slit in his head before bobbing back down, taking him a little deeper, doing all she could to relax her mouth and throat in preparation of what was to come.

Left hand still wrapped around his base, slowly and slightly twisting left and right to stimulate him until her mouth could, she let the fingertips of her right hand crawl up his shin, his knee, his inner thigh before she started to tease his balls.

Skin tight, balls pulled up, her touch felt divine as she timidly swiped her fingers over his sensitive, burning skin. The muscles in his abdomen contracted, his lungs seemed to close off as he not-so-gently tugged on her hair and before he knew it, she had sunk down on her dick until her nose was pressed against his pubic bone. The long, loud moan–a strangled, almost alien sound in the otherwise silence of the room–he let out made her skin crawl as her now free left hand moved between her legs.

She was wet and the more sounds he made, the deeper she took him in, doing her best not to choke on his girth, the wetter she felt herself become. It was easy to slip first a finger and then a second one into the warmth of her pussy as her thumb teased her clit and her throat contracted around Aleksandr’s dick.

The combination of pleasures made her head dizzy and her brain foggy. When she looked up at him and found him already staring, eyes glazed over and mouth opened into a silent moan, all she could do was moan around him as she slowly finger-fucked herself. It didn’t matter that her knees hurt nor that she had to force her neck into an uncomfortable position to look up at his face overcome by pleasure because it was all worth it.

That is, until he forced himself out of her mouth before he sank down on his knees in front of her, panting for air as he tried to recompose himself.

She didn’t stop her fingers, though, and for long seconds he stared as she pleasured herself in front of him–staring at him. The slick, wet sound of her fingers thrusting in and out of her somehow managed to drown out her moans and his gasps but when he forced her on her back on the carpeted floor and she opened up her legs for him, nothing managed to hide her whimper.

He wasn’t stopping her–couldn’t bring himself to, not when she looked ravishing spread out like that, one hand between her legs and the other tugging on a nipple.

Before he could stop himself, his lips latched onto her neck, mouth suckling gently the tender skin right above her pulse point until her neck arched and she moaned low and long into the half-darkness of the room.

His hands, impatient and unable to hold still, pushed her thighs wider apart, spreading her out more as he settled between her legs and his kissed moved down her cleavage until he was sucking harshly on her untouched nipple. She mewled at the sensation and her hand moved up his arm to tug on his hair, pulling his head back enough to make him look at her before he kissed her.

He kissed her long and hard, tugged on her lips, nibbled on her lower lip before he let his tongue glide over hers. And she sighed. She sighed and her legs trembled against his thighs and when she came, breathlessly and silently, he held her down, kissed her harder, pushed his hands under her ass to rut against the hand she still had between her legs.

“Shura.” It came out like a prayer to God, like a call for mercy as her kisses shifted along the line of his jaw and moved to his neck.

“I know.” His voice choked in his throat as he gently removed her fingers from inside her. They were so wet that had he been standing, his knees would have buckled. Instead, he pressed his forehead against her shoulder for a second before he pulled up on his knees and took her slippery fingers to his mouth.

She gasped when he sucked them clean, eyes always fixed on hers as he smirked at the astonished and embarrassed expression washing over her face. Her innocence was still there, then, he thought as he bent down to kitten-lick her swollen clit before positioning himself at her entrance.

Eyes staring into each other’s, he pushed in slowly, never stopping, never faltering, not even when the spasming tightness of her walls made his toes curl and her hands squeeze her tits.

He would have died for her and he would have died happy. To see her like this, to feel her like this–so eager to take him in, to swallow him–, it was more than his brain could process as he came to a halt inside her, hipbones against hipbones.

He took her in–the way she scrunched up her nose in pleasure, the way her tongue tried to moisten her dry lips, the way her sweaty skin glistened under the low lights of the room. It all made him twitch inside her, forcing him to pull his hips back, almost all the way out, before slowly pushing back in.

They both wanted to savor it, to savor the moment before they both had to go back to the Red Room and pretend like they could act professionally around each other.

The more time passed, though, the less control they had on their bodies and soon her hands were tugging at him and he was rutting into her, pelvic bone deliciously brushing against her clit, making her muscles tense up with poorly-contained pleasure.

It was a wild chase for a climax as both their backs arched and tensed and their moans turned louder and deeper.

He was kissing her everywhere–lips, eyelids, cheeks, neck, tits, shoulders–and she was doing the same as her nails marked the fair skin of his back until they drew blood here and there.

Breaths always shorter, heartbeats louder, it was hard to keep going as his knees pressed into the floor and her neck bent to suck on the skin of his neck–regulations be damned!

When he came deep inside her, forcing his rutting to come to an abrupt stop when his back arched and his moan went silent, it was almost an explosion of static noise. White went off behind his closed eyelids and at the sight of him, so overcome, she followed suit.

Larisa got her answer from the KGB’s side program a month before Natasha’s graduation. She was laying on yet another hotel bed next to Aleksandr, catching his breath after he had taken her in the shower, and there was a stupid grin on her lips as she stared at the pristine white ceiling of the bedroom.

With the passing of the weeks, Todorovsky had fallen for his own lies. Part of him did remember the day he had forged that admission letter, but it was so deeply buried in his subconscious that he could barely feel its presence.

“I got a letter for you,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment before he stood up. The duffle bag in which he had packed his and Lara’s change of clothes was still on the desk in front of the window that gave on Piter’s Neva, flowing placidly below them.

“A letter for me?”

Larisa had never received letters. No one did at the Academy. There was no one out there waiting for them, missing them, wishing to simply write them. Therefore, the news made excitement spark below her skin, pulling her up into a sitting position under the silky blankets of the bed.

Shura came back with a grin on his lips and crawled over to her until he pecked her lips before handing her the envelope and laying down next to her.

“You already opened it?” she asked, noticing how the lid of the envelope had been torn.

He hummed, his right hand absentmindedly caressing up and down her spine, his eyes staring at the goosebumps appearing and disappearing on her skin. “It was addressed to me since I’m your doctor. I didn’t know what it was about until I opened it.”

“What’s it about?”

“You’ll see.” He chuckled at the excitement in her voice and pushed her to take out the letter.

She read it quickly and the more she proceeded, the more sparkly the excitement in her eyes got. “We have taken into consideration the exceptionality of Larisa Efimovna Goncharova’s case and are honored to welcome her into our Mantis Program. We will be waiting for her arrival after her graduation next year.” Her voice rose slightly but steadily as she read that excerpt and when she had come to the end of the letter and Bakatin’s signature, she threw the papers in the air and threw her arms around his neck, laughing.

He chuckled back, pulling her closer until she was straddling him.

She bent down to kiss him, hips settling better against him and his hungry erection, before she kissed his cheeks and his eyelids, never silencing her giggling. “Oh, God, Shura!” She was shaking with badly-contained laughter over him and it made him smile as his hands caressed her sides, his hips slowly thrusting against her out of their own accord. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

How was this? Please, consider leaving feedback, I’m slowly easing back into writing and it’d mean the world to hear from you.

Once again, thank you to @flowers-in-your-hayr both for the moodboard (and moodboarS in general) and for bless-dooming me with the unnecessarily deep thirst and hunger for Alexander Skarsgård. I’m now sad I made Todorovsky the dick he is HAHAHA

TAGS (to be added or removed, shoot me an ask)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892 @mblaqgi

Larisa:@queenoftheunderdark

People that might be interested:@sweetvengeancee @kind-wolf @flowers-in-your-hayr @pagan-geek-girl-4-life @kellydixon01

#oc larisa efimovna goncharova #oc larisa goncharova #oc larisa #oc aleksandr todorovsky #oc todorovsky #the mantis series #angelaiswriting

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