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cloudtransprncy · 3 months

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"One Night Only"

Word count: 11210 Jennie x Male reader

Consequence – That word reverberates through my mind, echoing off the plush walls of this hotel suite. Each decision, every whisper of action, carries its own shadow, trailing behind it. I know this, deep in my bones. Yet, life, in its fleeting dance, seems to mock the very notion of permanence. The only certainty we hold is the silent, inexorable march towards an end we'd rather not face. We push it aside, cloak it in disbelief. Life, in its relentless stride, continues until reality, unbidden, jolts us awake. So, we find refuge in the fleeting – in the amber embrace of liquor, the smoky tendrils of a cigarette, the heady rush of desire. For a night, just this night, we silence the whispers of tomorrow.

Jennie's breath, a ragged symphony, plays against my lips. Our kiss, a dance of longing, tastes of sweet cherries laced our sharp kiss. Her fingers, entwined in my hair, pull us closer, our bodies becoming one in the moon's silver gaze.

Commitment – that once-venerated word now feels like a stranger's tongue. The thought of being tethered, bound by invisible threads of promises stretching across a lifetime, seemed more a prison than a haven. I've always been a creature of flight, a heart unmoored. Maybe that's why she drifted away – a preemptive strike against a future steeped in resentment. In protecting us from the chains of unfulfilled promises, did I sever the only tie that mattered?

Her skin, a canvas of warmth under my fingertips, ignites a trail of desire. As I explore the landscape of her body, each curve, each hidden valley, I lose myself to the moment. Her whisper, a confession in the dark, "I've missed this," binds me tighter than any vow.

Beyond the confines of this room, the city stretches out – a tapestry of steel and dreams under the night sky. Each light, a star in this man-made constellation, speaks of what could be. Once, as a child, I found solace in the stars, in the steady presence of Virgo among the celestial sea. Jennie, like that favored constellation, has always been the light I orbit, the gravity I cannot escape.

In the lunar glow, her face is a serene oasis, her breaths soft sonnets in the stillness. As I trace the lines of her neck, her back arches, a silent plea etched in moonlight. When our gazes lock, in that infinite moment, I see it – the reflection of myself, of us, in the depths of her eyes, a constellation not in the sky but right here, in this room.

She'll come. She always does.

In my mind's eye, I knew she was entwined with someone new, a high-profile actor whose name evades my memory. Insignificant, really, in the grand tapestry of our story. He's but one of many, a star in the vast firmament of an industry pulsing with life. His mark on the world may be noteworthy, but in her universe, he's merely a passing comet, fleeting and ephemeral.

We had drifted apart, yet fragments of our souls lingered, delicately preserved within the vases of our hearts. Months had passed since our last encounter, since our fingers last brushed, our eyes last locked. Though a year had unfolded since our parting, the invisible threads that bound us remained unsevered. When she called, I became all ears; when I reached out, she was always there. Our souls, entwined through seasons of love, could not fully disentangle. She may have sought refuge in another's arms, yet a piece of her essence, like a sacred relic, remained eternally mine, as mine did hers.

The revelation of her presence in New York unfurled as I was poised to board my flight from Chicago to Toronto, the next chapter in my tour's melody. A spare day, a gift of time, whispered the possibility of a detour – a rendezvous in the city that never sleeps.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing my suite in a golden haze, I reached out to her. The skyscrapers below sparkled like jewels under the twilight's caress as I dialed her number. She answered, a silence that spoke volumes, a canvas upon which our history was painted. Our conversations had become a dance, a playful chase of cat and mouse, with words unspoken yet understood.

"I'm in the city for one night," I murmured, the words hanging in the air like a promise, a temptation. Her silence lingered, a delicate pause on the other end, filled with the muted symphony of her world – the distant chatter of her entourage, the soft clicks of cameras capturing fleeting moments.

"I got a room for me and you," I continued, my voice a blend of hope and certainty. "This is for one night only." The details spilled out, coordinates to our secret haven, as the line hummed with the electricity of anticipation before falling silent. But my heart knew – she would be there, drawn to me as I to her, in this city of dreams and shadows.

A knock fractured the stillness of the midnight hour, a subtle intrusion into the suite where I stood, lost in thought. Above, the sky had donned its nightly regalia, stars scattered like diamonds on black velvet, while the moon – a coy dancer among the celestial array – cast a playful glow upon the city's silhouette. Clouds, thin as gossamer, shifted in the sky, their movements like silk curtains in a soft breeze, alternately veiling and revealing the moon's luminescence. The hour was ethereal, suspended between the remnants of the day and the possibilities of the night.

As I opened the door, she materialized before me – an enigmatic vision at the threshold. She stood there, robed in a chic, form-fitting black dress that gracefully embraced her figure, ending mid-thigh in a delicate declaration of allure. Encircling her legs were knee-high socks, culminating in a daring thigh garter – a subtle yet bold statement of her unique style. Her presence was a striking contrast to the muted opulence of the hotel suite.

Her hair, a cascade of dark, silken strands, framed her face in a perfect balance of elegance and wildness. It fell around her shoulders like the night itself had woven a mantle of shadows to adorn her. The dress clung to her form, outlining her slender arms and the gentle curves of her body, a testament to her poise and the understated power of her presence.

Her makeup was an artful composition, her eyes highlighted with a subtle precision that spoke of distant lands – a hint of an exotic narrative told in the language of beauty. It was understated yet impactful, enhancing her natural features with an artistry that suggested a story deeper than what the eye could see. Her lips, painted in a soft, natural hue, invited a second glance, a lingering focus.

As her gaze met mine, it was electric, a current of shared history and unspoken understanding passing between us. Her eyes, dark and inscrutable, held a depth that was both inviting and impenetrable. The air around her was perfumed with the rich scent of roses, intermingling with the sweet notes of her perfume, creating an aura that was at once intoxicating and comforting.

Her smile unfurled, a familiar softness that painted her features with an intimacy known only to those who had once shared everything. It was a grin that reached back through time, stirring a sea of memories within me.

"Hey," I found myself saying, my words emerging with a hint of a smirk, a reflex born of countless shared moments.

"Hey yourself," she echoed, her voice a melody laced with history. Her fingers, delicate yet assertive, found my chest, pressing gently, urging me backward into the realm we had once known so well. The sensation of her touch was like a key turning in a long-locked door, opening pathways to a past we had carefully navigated.

"It's been a while," her words floated through the air, a statement hanging between us, laden with unspoken narratives.

"Indeed it has," I replied, my voice a soft echo of our shared past. The click of the door sealing us within the suite marked a threshold crossed, a silent herald of a journey into realms both familiar and uncharted.

In that simple exchange, a current of anticipation began to build. The air between us became charged, a palpable tension that spoke of things unsaid, of paths once walked and now revisited. The weight of our history and the uncertainty of our present wove together, creating a tapestry rich with possibility and fraught with the complexity of our intertwined past.

In the soft, muted light of the suite, it didn't take long for our reunion to transform into an entwined embrace on the couch, a fusion of longing and familiarity. The kiss was a deluge of suppressed desires, a fervent torrent that left no room for ambiguity in our intentions. Her body against mine was a juxtaposition of the known and the novel, a comforting familiarity found on unfamiliar terrain. Our tongues, engaged in a private waltz, rediscovered a rhythm that pulsed with both nostalgia and excitement.

My hands roamed her form with an eager curiosity, tracing the familiar yet rediscovered contours of her body. The sensation of her skin under my fingertips was a tapestry of memories and new sensations, each touch reigniting a forgotten connection. The urgency in our movements was palpable, a frantic energy that surged against the sands of time since our last entwining. We were an orchestra of motion and sound, a harmonious blend of sighs and soft moans, a tempest of passion and need. The air around us was thick with the scent of our mingled perfumes, a heady aroma that enveloped us in a cocoon of intimacy.

She dug her fingers into my hair, pulling me closer with a forcefulness that stoked the flames of my arousal. The pressure of her lips on mine intensified, her tongue dancing with increasing urgency. A soft whimper escaped her throat, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. Our tongues fought for dominance, fueled by the heat of our desires.

A sharp intake of breath escaped Jennie as my hands found their way, cupping the curves of her ass with a gentle firmness. The motion drew her closer still, eliminating any space that lingered between us. Through the thin fabric of her dress, I could discern the outline of her response, her nipples hardening under my touch. A physical testament to the charged atmosphere that enveloped us. Her body’s reaction, tangible and immediate, sent a wave of anticipation coursing through me.

The texture of her dress under my palms was a subtle contrast to the warmth of her skin, a reminder of the thin veil that still separated us from total surrender. Each breath she took was a melody, harmonizing with the quiet symphony of the night around us.

Jennie's retreat from our kiss left a tangible, connecting strand, a fleeting bridge between us that shimmered in the dim light. Her eyes, dark and enigmatic, bore into me with an intensity that felt as if it could unravel the very fabric of my being. Those eyes were like portals to uncharted depths, brimming with unspoken tales of desire and yearning.

"I've missed this, Owen" she whispered, her voice a soft rumble, resonating with every fiber of my being. She grinds against me, her hips moving back and forth, a tangible expression of her yearning that seeped through the barriers of our clothing. Her fingers, entwined in my hair, drew me back into her orbit, our lips crashing together in a kiss that was as fierce as it was profound. The intensity of our connection, raw and unbridled, engulfed me.

Consumed by her presence, the taste of her lips, the feel of her pressed so close, my hands roamed with a mind of their own. They journeyed beneath the hem of her dress, venturing over the smooth, warm terrain of her skin, each inch revealed a revelation in itself. The sigh that escaped her, a breathless affirmation of the moment, reverberated in me like a symphony.

Our bodies moved in tandem, a harmony of action and reaction, each caress, each undulation building on the next. Slowly, inch by inch I pushed her dress upward, revealing the subtle, sensual landscape of her form. Jennie's breath quickened as her hips rolled, grinding with an increased fervor against me, her nipples stiff and pronounced, brushing against my shirt, an exquisite combination of restraint and liberation. Her arms stretched upwards into the air as I pulled the fabrics of her dress, away from her, lifting its grip from her form, and over her head, which she then tossed casually to one side.

As Jennie's dress slid away, her figure, a stunning tapestry of curves and lines, was unveiled in the lunar glow that seeped through the windows. The moonlight played upon her skin, casting it in an ethereal shimmer, transforming her into a vision of porcelain radiance. She stood there, an embodiment of confidence and sensuality, a modern-day deity framed in a chiaroscuro of shadows and light.

My gaze lingered on her breast, tracing the contours of her physique – the gentle slopes and the pronounced curves that defined her form. Each aspect of her body, from the graceful arc of her waist to the delicate structure of her shoulders, spoke of a silent grace, a beauty that was as natural as it was captivating. Her skin, smooth and luminous, seemed to capture the very essence of the moon's glow, reflecting it back in a soft luminescence that highlighted her every move. My hands, acting with a fervor born from deep within, eagerly explored the expanse of Jennie's skin, a landscape I had once known intimately. The sensation of her beneath my fingertips was exhilarating – a cascade of textures and warmth that set every nerve ending alight. Her skin was soft, yet firm, yielding under my touch with a gentle resilience that beckoned for more exploration.

As I traced the contours of her body, every curve and dip spoke volumes. The softness of her breasts contrasted with the smooth, firmer feel of her abdomen, each sensation a paragraph in the story of her body. The way her skin responded to my touch, with subtle shifts and sighs, was like conversing in a language of sensation, each caress a word, each touch a sentence.

As my hands continued their journey, Jennie's responses turned into a symphony of their own. Her moans, soft yet resonant, were like notes rising from a well-tuned instrument, each one a melody of pleasure and surrender. The sound of her voice, humming in contentment, filled the room with a music that was deeply personal, an intimate concert shared between two souls.

Her moans ebbed and flowed with the rhythm of my touch, crescendos of sound that matched the increasing intensity of our connection. They were not just expressions of pleasure; they were communications, telling me without words how each caress, each gentle stroke was received. Her hums, low and melodic, were the bassline to the higher notes of her moans, creating a harmonious blend that was as compelling as any melody.

After savoring the sensation of Jennie's skin beneath my hands, an innate longing surged within me to delve deeper, to explore her with the intimacy of my lips. I began at her collarbone, a spot often overlooked yet brimming with delicate sensitivity. My lips traced its subtle contours, each kiss eliciting a gentle sigh from Jennie, her skin warm and soft under the tender pressure.

As I journeyed to her shoulders, the texture of her skin subtly shifted, becoming smoother, more resilient. Her responses grew in intensity, her moans a testament to the changing sensations my lips invoked. The scent of roses from her perfume grew stronger here, mingling with her natural fragrance to create an intoxicating aura.

Gliding down her arm, I reveled in the silkiness of her skin, each kiss a discovery of her unique topography. But it was at her armpit where I lingered, captivated by the uniqueness of this hidden enclave. The texture here was more intimate, the skin softer and imbued with a deeper scent that was unmistakably Jennie - raw and personal. Her reaction was more pronounced; her moans louder and filled with a depth that spoke volumes of the pleasure she felt.

As my lips finally reached the crest of Jennie's chest, the change in texture was profound. Her breasts, tender and full of life, responded to each kiss with a symphony of sensation. The delicate softness beneath my lips felt like the most luxurious satin, each touch deepening our connection. The subtle firmness of her nipples, aroused and beckoning, contrasted with the yielding flesh around them.

Gently, I let my tongue dance over the stiffened peak, and Jennie's reaction was immediate. A shiver coursed through her, a physical echo of the pleasure that resonated within. Her breathing became a series of rapid, shallow waves, a delicate soundtrack to our intimate ballet.

Meanwhile, my hand ventured to its twin, mirroring the actions of my mouth. The sensation of rolling and lightly flicking her other nipple elicited from her a chorus of sensual sounds, each moan a note in our crescendoing duet.

When I enveloped her sensitive peak with my mouth, Jennie's moan - "Oh my god" - reverberated through the room. The meticulous circling of my tongue around her was a focused ritual, each motion deliberate and attuned to her responses. The flavor of her skin was a delicate blend of sweetness tinged with the saltiness of her arousal, a tantalizing taste that drew me deeper into the moment. Her chest pushed forward, eager to meet the onslaught of stimulation with an intuitive abandon.

"I forgot how good you feel," I murmured, my voice tinged with a deep arousal, the words escaping almost involuntarily.

"I want to feel you too," Jennie responded, her voice a breathless mixture of playfulness and desire, sending a jolt of longing straight through me. Her eyes, deep and enigmatic like the midnight sky, held mine with an intensity that spoke volumes. Her hand traced a path up my arm, gliding over the contours of my shoulder, then wrapping around to my back with an electrifying touch that felt like a firebrand on my skin.

With an urgency that mirrored our rising passions, she tugged at my shirt, a silent beckoning for me to shed the last barrier between us. In a swift, seamless motion, Jennie peeled my shirt away, her hands immediately finding the warmth of my bare chest. Her initial feather-light touch quickly intensified, her fingers becoming more assertive, tracing and exploring my skin with a growing fervor that matched the beat of our racing hearts.

As Jennie began to mirror the way I had cherished her body, the intensity of the experience magnified. Her lips traced a path down my neck, each kiss a delicate imprint that seemed to sear into my memory. The sensation of her mouth moving across my skin was both soft and fervent, a contradiction that sent waves of pleasure through me.

Her hands, emboldened by her desire, explored the landscape of my torso. The contrast of her delicate fingertips against the firmness of my muscles created an exhilarating dance of sensations. The pressure of her touch varied, sometimes feather-light, other times more assertive, mapping the contours of my body with an attentiveness that was almost reverent. Each caress seemed to speak volumes, communicating her appreciation and desire in a language beyond words.

As she reached my chest, her exploration became more intense. The sensation of her lips against my skin was like an electric current, each kiss a spark that ignited deeper, more primal feelings within me. Her breath, warm and uneven against my skin, her soft murmurs and occasional sharp expletives, added to the crescendo of sensations, making every moment feel more heightened, more vivid.

In the midst of this exchange, a thought flickered through my mind, unbidden yet insistent. I wondered if her nights with her boyfriend held the same intensity, the same unbridled passion that we were experiencing. Was there the same depth of connection, the same exploration of senses? The thought was a sharp contrast to the immediacy of our encounter, a jarring reminder of the reality beyond this room.

Yet, as quickly as the thought came, it was swept away by the tide of our passion. The here and now was all that mattered - the feeling of her hands on me, the taste of her lips, the sound of her soft exclamations. In this moment, nothing else existed but the intensity of our rekindled connection, a fervor that seemed to eclipse all else.

"Fuck! I need your dick in my mouth," Jennie's voice was thick with desire as she slid off my lap. Her hands, eager and insistent, found their way to the waistband of my sweatpants. With a swift, almost ravenous movement, she tugged them down, freeing my aching arousal. It stood, hard and throbbing, just inches from her face. Her eyes, alight with a fiery blend of lust and hunger, locked onto mine.

"You can have it tonight," I responded, my voice a deep rumble of desire, as her small, delicate hands encircled me. The contrast of her soft touch against my hardness only heightened the moment.

"All of it?" Her question was laced with a seductive confidence, her eyes burning with an intensity that spoke volumes of her desire. I could only nod, caught up in the moment's gravity.

Leaning forward, Jennie's lips parted slightly, and she drooled over a thick glob of saliva that landed precisely on the tip. The warm fluid began to trickle down, glistening in the dim light. She deftly used her fingers to spread it, coating me in a sheen that was both slick and inviting. My entire being was alight with sensation, every nerve ending attuned to her movements as she began to work her hand along my length. Her grip was firm, her movements measured, each stroke a deliberate act of provocation.

Jennie's movements became more intense as she tilted her head, sweeping her hair to one side with a free hand while maintaining her fervent stroke. Her gaze remained locked with mine, a fiery blend of intensity and curiosity as she leaned down. The first sensation was the heat of her breath, a hot, moist whisper against my skin. Then came the slow, deliberate touch of her tongue, tracing a circle around the tip. The electricity of her touch sent a tremor through my body, a visceral reminder of our past intimacy.

As Jennie's lips enveloped the crown, the sensation was both familiar and overwhelming. Her tongue skillfully danced and teased, each movement deliberate and laden with sensation. The warmth and wetness of her mouth enveloped me further, each motion a blissful exploration. Time seemed to stretch and warp, the world outside our bubble ceasing to exist in the wake of her expert ministrations.

Her soft moan, vibrating around me, amplified the sensation, sending shockwaves through my body. I was caught in a spellbinding haze of pleasure, each movement she made bringing me closer to the edge of surrender. The combination of her lips, tongue, and the soft vibrations of her moans created an indescribable tapestry of pleasure, leaving me utterly enraptured.

"Holy Shit!" I couldn't hold back the moan as I found support against the couch's frame, my arms stretched out for stability. The intensity of Jennie's movements sent waves of pleasure through me, causing my head to thrash back in ecstasy. My heart raced uncontrollably, every beat echoing the mounting need within me.

Jennie's hair, a dark cascade, framed her face as she moved with a precision that was nothing short of masterful. The sensation of her lips, sliding rhythmically along my length, was unparalleled. Her ability to take me fully, her breath steady through her nose, spoke of an expertise that was both awe-inspiring and deeply arousing. The way her cheeks hollowed, the hungry suction, the repeated swallowing of my length – it was a dance of intensity and passion.

She occasionally paused, deliberately choking on the tip to gather saliva, which she then used to lubricate my entire length, enhancing the ride with each slick, smooth movement. Every action, every technique of hers was a testament to her skill, her dedication to the act transforming it into something akin to fervent devotion. The pleasure she bestowed was not just physical; it was an experience that transcended the mere act, elevating it to a form of worship.

As I felt the tide of climax beginning to rise within me, I instinctively wanted to prolong this intense experience, to savor more of Jennie's body. Gently, I tried to guide her head away, signaling my intention to pause, but she was resolute. Her determination was clear; she was intent on bringing me to the edge right then and there.

My attempts to ease her off were met with a firm slap of her hand against mine, a silent but emphatic message that she wasn't done yet. "You're giving this to me now, and you're giving me more later," she declared with a commanding tone that brooked no argument. Her eyes, alight with a fierce desire, locked onto mine, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Jennie intensified her movements, her lips and hand working in perfect tandem. The sight of her, so engrossed in the act, her hair framing her focused expression, was utterly captivating. Each movement of her head, each stroke of her hand, was a masterful balance of pressure and rhythm, pushing me closer to the brink.

The sensory overload was overwhelming - the sight of her dedication, the feel of her mouth and hand, and the sounds of our shared pleasure filling the room. Jennie's technique was a perfect symphony of movements, each one bringing a higher crescendo of sensation, making it impossible to think of anything but the imminent and intense climax.

As the moment approached, a feeling akin to a tempestuous sea churned in my stomach, a wave of pleasure building, threatening to crest. Jennie, attuned to my nearing edge, let out a moan that mingled with the surge within me, intensifying the inevitable release. Overwhelmed, I succumbed to the climax, an eruption of sensation, met by Jennie's unwavering embrace. Her lips formed a perfect seal around me, her rhythmic strokes ensuring not a single moment was lost.

Her gaze remained locked with mine throughout, a mirror of pure satisfaction as she swallowed, taking in every part of the experience. In her eyes shone a prideful gleam, a recognition of her own prowess in guiding me to this point of surrender. Her delight was palpable, a silent celebration of the control she wielded, the pleasure she had drawn out.

As the waves subsided, leaving a trail of bliss in their wake, Jennie finally drew back, the connection gently severed, leaving us both in a state of breathless reprieve. She then picked up my shirt from the floor, using it to delicately wipe away the remnants of our encounter from her mouth and hands, her actions as deliberate and composed as they had been in the height of our passion.

Reeling from the intensity of my climax, I found myself being gently but firmly drawn back to the present by Jennie. Her lips met mine in a kiss that was soft yet charged, the taste of myself on her tongue adding a complex layer to our connection. This was more than just physical; it was an exchange of unspoken promises, a dance of intimacy and understanding.

"I'm not done with you. You brought me here, we're gonna make the most of it," she whispered against my lips, her tongue playfully darting out to trace my bottom lip. With a sudden shift, she grasped my hand and led me towards the bed, her movements fluid and purposeful.

As we moved through the suite, the sounds of the city outside filtered through the windows – the distant hum of traffic, the soft murmur of voices, the occasional siren. These were the symphonies of the night, the backdrop to our unfolding story. The room's lighting cast a soft, ambient glow, painting everything in a hue of warmth and intimacy.

As Jennie gracefully made her way onto the bed, her back presented a captivating sight. The arch of her spine flowed into the gentle swell of her hips, each movement accentuating the allure of her lower back and hips. Clad in a small black thong, her hips were teasingly framed, the fabric nestled seductively in the crevice, hinting at the hidden treasures yet to be revealed.

As she reached the center of the bed, Jennie slowly maneuvered herself into a captivating position. Her legs, long and elegantly toned, were raised and folded in a 'W' shape, an enticing display of both vulnerability and invitation. This pose accentuated the length of her legs, the curvature of her hips, and the delicate symmetry of her figure. The knee-high socks she wore added a contrasting element of innocence and playfulness to her otherwise exposed form.

Then, as if compelled by a force beyond her control, Jennie's hands embarked on a tantalizing exploration of her own body. They traced the contours of her breasts with a languorous care, each touch a study in self-adoration. The slow, deliberate movements of her fingers were hypnotic, accentuating her allure in the dimly lit room.

The transformation in Jennie's appearance since our earlier encounter was striking. Her makeup, now smudged and spread, lent her an air of wild abandon, while her hair, disheveled and untamed, framed her face in a chaotic halo. This raw, disordered state only heightened her appeal, lending her a captivating, almost intoxicating aura of realness.

Reclining gracefully, she ran a finger tantalizingly over her lips – lips that still bore the evidence of our previous passion. She continued her seductive journey, her finger tracing a path down her neck, over the gentle swell of her chest.

"come here..." she gestured over for me to join her on the bed, her tone both commanding and inviting. She turned to lay on her back, the sight of her body beckoning me forward.

Still covered by a black thong, her most intimate area was teasingly concealed, yet the way she moved hinted at what was to come. As I stepped closer, drawn in by the magnetic pull of her presence, Jennie reached down with a tantalizing slowness. Her fingers hooked onto the thin fabric of the thong, sliding it off in a motion that was nothing short of seductive. The removal of this final barrier revealed her in full, a breathtaking vision of desire laid bare before me.

In a move that was both deliberate and revealing, Jennie reached down, her hands delicately pulling at the skin on her inner thighs. This gesture was an open invitation, a welcome for my eyes to feast upon her most intimate self. As she gently parted her skin, the hidden beauty of her entrance was unveiled, a sight that was both intensely private and undeniably captivating. Her entrance glistened, its moist perfection a testament to the intensity of her arousal.

As I crawled forward onto the bed, the sensation of the soft, plush sheets against my hands was immediately noticeable. The fabric was smooth and fine, a stark contrast to the fervent energy that filled the room. Each movement I made caused the sheets to shift ever so slightly, creating a subtle but distinct sensation against my skin.

The bed itself was an island in the midst of our passion, its surface both yielding and supportive, a perfect backdrop for the intensity of the moment. As I found my place between Jennie's legs, the bed seemed to embrace us, its softness enveloping us in a cocoon of comfort and intimacy.

Jennie's body was a canvas of desire, painted with the colors of her own passion. Her skin, creamy and fair, glistened with sweat and moisture, reflecting the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table. Her hair framed her face in a halo of darkness, accentuating her delicate features. Her breasts, small and plump, rose and fell with each shallow breath she took, their nipples hard and erect beneath the thin sheet that covered her.

As I looked at her from my position between her legs, I couldn't help but marvel at the sight before me. She was naked and vulnerable, yet there was a strength in her that spoke volumes. It was as if she had shed all pretenses of modesty and embraced her true self - a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go after it.

Jennie's hands moved with purpose across her body, tracing lazy circles around her nipples before dipping down to explore the sensitive flesh between her legs. Her fingers were long and slender, each one ending in a sharp claw that seemed to dig into her skin with every movement. She moved with an intensity that was both mesmerizing and intimidating - a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't afraid to take it.

As I watched her touch herself, my own body began to respond to the sight before me. My heart raced in my chest as I felt my own erection begin to stir beneath my sweatpants. The thought of being with Jennie again - of feeling her body against mine - was enough to send waves of pleasure coursing through me.

I couldn't help but feel drawn to her entrance - that intimate place where she had given herself so completely to me before. As I crawled closer between her legs, I couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence for the sight before me. It was as if I were witnessing something sacred - something that belonged only to us two.

Jennie's entrance was like nothing I had ever seen before - a perfect blend of delicate petals and firm muscle. The pink flesh was soft yet firm beneath my fingertips as I traced them over the surface. The scent of wetness mingled with the aroma of sweat and lust as I explored every inch of this intimate place that belonged solely to Jennie.

As I teased her entrance with my fingers, Jennie moaned softly - a sound that sent shivers down my spine as it echoed through the room. Her body tensed beneath me as she reached out for me - drawing me closer until our bodies were pressed together in an intimate embrace that seemed to transcend time itself.

I couldn't help but marvel at the sight before me. Jennie's entrance was like nothing I had ever seen before - a perfect blend of delicate petals and firm muscle. The pink flesh was soft yet firm beneath my fingertips as I traced them over the surface. The scent of wetness mingled with the aroma of sweat and lust as I explored every inch of this intimate place that belonged solely to Jennie. As I teased her entrance with my fingers, Jennie moaned softly - a sound that sent shivers down my spine as it echoed through the room. Her body tensed beneath me as she reached out for me - drawing me closer until our bodies were pressed together in an intimate embrace that seemed to transcend time itself.

I closed my eyes and let out a low moan as I savored the scent of her pussy, allowing it to permeate my senses and fill me with a desire that was both insatiable and exhilarating. My tongue darted out, eager to explore the fleshy depths of her entrance, and I licked the outer folds with a gentle, exploratory motion. The taste was unlike anything I had ever experienced before - sweet and salty, with just a hint of tanginess that spoke of her natural chemistry. It was intoxicating, addictive, and I found myself wanting more and more with each passing moment.

As my fingers delved deeper into her fleshy thighs, I felt a surge of pleasure course through me. The sensation was electrifying, sending shivers down my spine with each lick and suck. Her body pulsed beneath me, her hips undulating in rhythm with my movements, as if we were two dancers in perfect harmony. The sound of her soft moans filled the air, adding to the sensory experience. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the texture of her flesh beneath my fingertips, and the taste of her juices on my lips. Every sensation was amplified, every detail was vivid, and I found myself completely immersed into her.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe for the view before me - it was as if I were witnessing something holy - something that belonged only to us two. With each flick of my tongue, a symphony of sensations unfolded, like a tapestry of flavors and textures. I navigated the labyrinthine depths of her crevices, discovering hidden chambers and secret alcoves that ignited my senses. The taste of her essence, both sweet and musky, mingled with the salty tang of her sweat, creating a heady elixir that intoxicated me. The warmth of her body radiated through my skin, enveloping me in a cocoon of desire. The taste intensified, the sweetness fading into something richer and more intricate - a taste that spoke of depth and complexity that mirrored our own bond.

As I delved deeper into her entrance with my flicking tongue, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in what we were doing together. The world outside faded away, leaving only the raw, unapologetic sensations that coursed through our veins. Our bodies were connected by desire and passion, and we explored each other's with a sense of freedom and abandon. The taste of her essence was intoxicating, and I couldn't get enough of it. The salty tang of her sweat mingled with the sweetness of her body, creating a heady elixir that left me dizzy with pleasure. The warmth of her body radiated through my skin, enveloping me in a cocoon of desire. It was a moment of pure sensory exploration - an exchange of pleasure that transcended words or actions. It didn't matter that she was with someone, all that mattered was what we both wanted - needed..

"Oh my God!" As her slender fingers delved into the silken strands of my hair, a guttural moan escaped her lips, echoing through the dimly lit room like a siren's call. Her touch was a symphony of sensations, each caress sending shivers down my spine. It was as if she was weaving a spell, ensnaring me in a web of desire with every delicate pull and tug. "You're so good at that, Owen" Her teeth sank into the softness of her lower lip, drawing a crimson bead of blood. The skin of her neck tightened, corded muscles standing out like delicate ridges beneath the surface. A low, guttural growl escaped her throat, a primal sound that reverberated through the room.

My tongue, a fervent explorer, ventured beyond the silken folds of her womanhood, tracing the contours of her hidden desires. Each delicate stroke ignited a symphony of sensations, a chorus of whispers reverberating through her core. Her body, a finely tuned instrument, responded with a tremor, a ripple of anticipation coursing through her limbs. She writhed in agony, her limbs trembling with the intensity of her pleasure. Her stomach twisted and churned, a maelstrom of emotions swirling within her core. Her head lolled back, her eyes rolling with ecstasy as her body surrendered to the sensations coursing through her veins.

Her head arched back, a gasp escaping her lips as my tongue ventured forth, seeking the epicenter of her desire. My lips moved in a circular motion, teasing and tormenting her sensitive nub, each revolution igniting a fiery burst of pleasure that rippled through her body. Her legs tightened around my head, her toes curling in ecstasy as her hips bucked involuntarily. One of my fingers slipped down between the silken folds of her entrance, circling and probing, adding an extra layer of stimulation. The combination of my tongue and finger was too much for her, sending her spiraling into the abyss of ecstasy.

The room filled with the symphony of her moans, a primal melody that echoed off the walls. Her body writhed beneath me, her curves undulating like waves crashing against the shore. I could feel her heat and her wetness, taste her desire and her passion. I was lost in the moment, consumed by the sensations that swirled around us like a maelstrom. My finger continued its relentless assault, tracing the contours of her entrance, teasing and probing at its delicate folds. My tongue flicked and danced across her clit, each touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She was a marionette in my hands, her body contorting and twisting at my every whim. Her fingernails dug into my back, leaving moon-shaped marks on my skin. I basked in the pain, a manifestation of her unyielding passion.

Diving deeper into Jennie's silken depths, I felt her body tremble beneath me, her breath hitching in ragged gasps. My tongue danced across her heated folds, swirling and teasing like a mischievous sprite. Each touch sent shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through her core, her moans escalating into a desperate symphony that filled the room. Her hips arched involuntarily, seeking more of my fervent ministrations.

With one hand buried between her legs, I reached up with the other, exploring the smooth expanse of her toned stomach. My fingers traced the contours of her abs, teasing and tormenting her sensitive navel. She arched her back, her hips bucking wildly as my tongue danced across her clit. I could feel her heat and her wetness, taste her desire and her passion. I was lost in the moment, consumed by the sensations that swirled around us like a maelstrom.

As I continued to lick and suck at her clit, I slipped a finger inside her. It slid in easily, coated in her wetness. I began to pump my finger in and out, matching the rhythm of my tongue on her clit. Jennie's moans grew louder, more frenzied, her body trembling with anticipation. I could feel her muscles clenching around my finger, a sign that she was close.

With my free hand, I reached up to cup her breast, squeezing gently as my tongue continued its relentless assault on her clit. Her nipple hardened in my hand, a dark, erect bud that begged for attention. I pinched it lightly between my fingers, eliciting a sharp gasp from Jennie. Her hips bucked wildly, her body writhing beneath me as I continued to finger and lick her.

I could feel her heat and her wetness increasing, a sign that she was on the brink. With each relentless thrust, I quickened the tempo of my finger, driving it deeper into her slick, welcoming depths. I could feel her body responding, her muscles clenching and unclenching around my eager digit, a symphony of anticipation and surrender. Her breath hitched in her throat, a soft gasp escaping her lips as I continued my relentless assault on her pleasure center. My tongue danced across her clit, teasing and tormenting her sensitive nub. Jennie's moans grew louder, more desperate, a symphony of pleasure that filled the room.

In the hallowed chamber of our love, anticipation hung heavy in the air, pregnant with the promise of ecstasy. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her whispered words barely audible above the fervent rhythm of our bodies. "Owen," she breathed, "I'm so close," and I could feel the trembling of her body, the clenching and unclenching of her muscles.

We were dancing on the precipice, so close to the edge, and I couldn't resist the urge to push her over. My fingers slid deeper into her slick, welcoming depths, the tempo of our love growing faster, more intense with each passing moment. The air was thick with the scent of passion, the taste of lust, and the sweetness of surrender.

As I continued my relentless assault on her pleasure center, I could feel the tension building, the anticipation growing. The air was thick with the scent of passion, the taste of lust, and the sweetness of surrender. My fingers slid deeper into her slick, welcoming depths, the tempo of our love growing faster, more intense with each passing moment. The rhythm of our bodies was in sync, our movements fluid and graceful, as we danced on the precipice of ecstasy.

I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the beat of her heart echoing in my ears. Her whispered words of desire were like music to my ears, fueling my desire to bring her to the edge. I could sense the trembling of her body, the clenching and unclenching of her muscles, as she surrendered to the pleasure.

As I felt her body convulse around me, I knew that I had pushed her to the edge, that I had brought her to the point of no return. The intensity of our lust was overwhelming, a whirlwind of emotions and sensations that left me breathless. I could feel the warmth of her skin against mine, the softness of her hair, the taste of her lips on mine.

Her body, a symphony of rapture, throbbed beneath me, her cries of ecstasy echoing through the room. I had taken her to the precipice, and now she was free-falling into the abyss of pleasure. Her face, a canvas of desire, contorted with delight as she surrendered to the sensations that consumed her. I watched, enraptured, as she arched her back, her body trembling with the intensity of her climax. It was a moment of pure bliss, a communion of souls that transcended the physical realm.

As she finally descended from the tempestuous heights of her orgasm, Jennie lay there panting, her body still trembling like a leaf caught in an autumn gale. The aftershocks of ecstasy rippled through her, her skin flushed and damp with the nectar of our lovemaking. I moved beside her, my heart thrumming in my chest like a war drum, its beat echoing in the silence of the room like a primal chant. As I gazed into her eyes, I felt a raw, primal energy crackling between us, an electric current that coursed through our veins and ignited our souls.

After a moment, Jennie gathered herself, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She looked at me with a mix of desire and longing, her eyes locked onto my erection. Without a word, she reached out and spit on it, her saliva glistening on the tip as she began to stroke me. I moaned softly, my body responding to her touch with a fierce intensity.

"Now, for the real thing," Her breath, a warm caress against my ear, whispered promises of forbidden pleasures, unspoken desires. In the hushed tones of a seductress, she confessed, "I've been thinking about this"

My heart raced as she climbed on top of me, her body pressing against mine with a force that was both

exhilarating and terrifying. As Jennie descended upon me, I was captivated by the sight of her pussy swallowing my length whole, her muscles contracting around me with a ferocity that left me breathless. The feeling was ineffable, a surge of ecstasy that coursed through me like a tempestuous storm, electrifying every fiber of my being. Her gaze bore into mine, a mixture of passion and rebellion, as she claimed my cock in her body.

Jennie's body was a sight to behold, her curves accentuated by the soft, ambient light that bathed the room in a moody, atmospheric glow. Her breasts, full and firm, swayed gently with each thrust, their dark, rosy nipples standing erect against the cool air. Her hips moved in a hypnotic rhythm, her muscles flexing with each deliberate motion as she rode me with a fervor that left me breathless.

The view was breathtaking, Jennie's face a picture of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her lips were parted, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she lost herself in the moment. Her eyes, dark and expressive, were filled with a raw, primal hunger that was both intoxicating and terrifying.

As we moved together, the room was filled with the symphony of our bodies slapping against each other, the wet, slick sounds of our flesh meeting in a frenzied dance of desire, like waves crashing against the shore. The air was thick with the scent of our arousal, a heady mix of sweat and sex that filled my senses and heightened my pleasure, intoxicating me with its primal allure. The rhythm of our lovemaking echoed through the room, a percussive symphony that pounded in my ears and set my heart racing with each thrust.

"Oh fuck, you're so tight," With a guttural moan, I plunged further into Jennie's depths, my body consumed by an insatiable hunger.

"And you're so big, you're stretching me out," Jennie moaned in response, her hips bucking wildly as she rode me with a fierce intensity.

"Do you like that? do you like my cock inside you? you've missed it dont you?" I asked, my voice thick with desire as I looked down at Jennie.

"yes! yes! Yes! Fuck!" Jennie cried out, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she lost herself in the moment.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still, and all that mattered was the intense sensory experience that was unfolding before me. Jennie's body was a symphony of pleasure, her every movement a testament to the raw, primal power of desire. And as I lost myself in the rhythm of our bodies, I knew that I was experiencing something truly transcendent, something that would stay with me long after the last echoes of our passion had faded away.

As she began to move, I felt myself being drawn into a world of pure sensation. Every thrust, every movement, was a symphony of pleasure that seemed to resonate deep within my soul. Jennie's eyes never left mine, her expression a mix of desire and determination as she rode me with a fierce intensity. I could feel her muscles clenching around me, a tight, wet heat that seemed to pull me deeper into her body with each passing second.

With a sudden surge of energy, I flipped her onto her back, guiding her legs apart as I positioned myself above her. Our eyes locked in a heated gaze as I plunged deeper into her, my body responding to her cries of desire with a feral intensity.

In this newfound position, I was able to control the depth and pace of our lovemaking, driving myself into her with an insatiable hunger. The headboard creaked against the wall in time with our frantic rhythm, the room filled with the wet sounds of our passionate union. Her hands gripped my back, nails digging into my skin as we moved together as one.

With each thrust, our bodies collided in a symphony of sensations – the slickness of our skin meeting in a primal dance, the soft moans escaping Jennie's lips as she arched her back to meet my every movement. Sweat glistened on both our bodies, beading on our skin like liquid diamonds under the dimmed lights. Her breasts bounced with each impact, nipples hardened and begging for attention. I reached down to tease them roughly, eliciting a gasp from Jennie that spurred me onward.

I could feel every ripple and fold of her wet heat enveloping me, clenching around my length like a vice. The scent of our arousal hung heavy in the air – musky and intoxicating – fueling the fire that burned between us. As I watched our reflection in the mirrored ceiling above us, I marveled at the sight: two bodies entwined in an age-old dance, seeking solace and release in each other's arms.

As I pushed into her further, I raised Jennie's elongated, slender limbs by their ankles, spreading them outward for my access. The visual before me was captivating - her toned thighs glistening with perspiration, her delicate toes curling and uncurling as I kissed and licked upon them. Her thin arms quivered with ecstasy. One hand clung tightly to the bedsheets, the other meandering down to manipulate her breasts, pinching and tugging at the firm nipples that stood upright against the cool atmosphere. Her eyelids were shut, her visage a blend of pleasure and agony as she yielded herself to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her entire body.

Jennie pulled me down to kiss her, her lips soft and warm against mine. Our tongues danced together in a frenzied rhythm, mirroring the movements of our bodies below. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest, her breath hot and heavy in my ear as she urged me onward. My thrusts did not stop, my body driven by a primal need to claim her once more.

Her nails raked down my back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, fueling the flames of our passion even further. Our bodies collided with an intensity that belied the passage of time, as if we were two souls trapped in an endless loop of desire and need. The room was filled with the sound of our moans and gasps, a symphony of lust that echoed off the walls. The scent of our arousal hung heavy in the air – musky and intoxicating – as we raced towards that elusive peak together.

In this moment, there was only us – two people lost in a sea of passion, seeking solace and release in each other's arms. As I looked into her dark eyes, I saw the same longing and desire that burned within me.

Soon after we switched positions, Jennie was on all fours, presenting her luscious ass to me as I entered her from behind. I couldn't help but admire the view before me – her toned backside, the delicate dip of her spine, and the way her hair cascaded down her back in a waterfall of ebony silk. Her skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, accentuating every curve and contour of her body.

As I positioned myself behind her, I marveled at the sight of my cock sliding into her wet heat once more. The sensation was indescribable – hot, tight, and wet; it felt like coming home. With each thrust, I could feel every ripple and fold of her inner walls clenching around me, as if she were trying to hold onto me forever. The sound of our bodies colliding filled the room, a primal symphony that echoed off the walls.

In this position, Jennie's body took on an even more alluring form – hips curved in invitation; and thighs spread apart in wanton display. Her back arched gracefully, accentuating the perfect curve of her spine and emphasizing the delicate line of her neck. It was a breathtaking sight, truly awe-inspiring - this beautiful creature beneath me, her body glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, her breath hitching with every thrust I made. Her moans, they were like sweet music to my ears, filling the room with an erotic symphony that echoed off the walls. They were desperate pleas for more, whispers of pleasure intermingling with the rhythmic crescendo of our bodies colliding. The sight and sounds of Jennie in the throes of ecstasy was intoxicating, pushing me further to the edge.

Every thrust was a desperate attempt to fuse our bodies together, to become one with this woman who held my heart captive. Our bodies collided with a force that belied the tenderness of our earlier lovemaking, a raw and primal display of unrestrained passion.

I reached down, my fingers tracing the delicate line of her spine, feeling the soft texture of her skin beneath my fingertips. Her body trembled beneath my touch, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. I leaned down and kissed her neck, my lips trailing a path of fire down to her collarbone. She moaned softly, her head tilting back to give me better access.

My hands slid down her body, cupping her firm buttocks. I squeezed gently, feeling the muscles tense beneath my touch. Her hips moved involuntarily against mine, a desperate plea for more. I responded by thrusting into her with renewed vigor, my body driven by a primal need to claim her.

Jennie's body trembled beneath me, her muscles tensing and relaxing in a rhythmic dance of ecstasy. Her moans grew louder, more urgent, as she neared the precipice of release. Her body was a canvas of pleasure, her skin glistening with sweat as she writhed beneath me.

I could feel it too, the heat and tightness building between us, the overwhelming need to explode in a symphony of pleasure. It was like a volcano ready to erupt, the pressure building and building.

"Owen," she whispered, her voice a desperate plea. "I'm so close."

Her hushed murmurs were barely perceptible over the symphony of our pounding hearts and the wet slap of our bodies colliding in a rhythm as old as time itself. The scent of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air, intoxicating me with every breath I took. I carefully parted the supple curves of her ass, my gaze transfixed on the provocative sight before me: myself buried deep within her slick, welcoming folds.

"I'm close too, fuck! I'm gonna cum" I surrendered to the primitive instinct within me, my hips driving against her with newfound urgency. The soft, supple curves of her back molded perfectly against the harsh angles of my chest and abdomen. Her skin was a living flame beneath my fingertips – hot, slick, and glistening with sweat that clung to her like a second skin. The intoxicating taste of salt and woman filled my mouth as I pressed kisses along the graceful arch of her neck, each one drawing a gasp or a moan from her lips in response.

Such sweet music she made – soft sighs and whimpers that danced in harmony with the symphony of our bodies colliding in rhythmic unison. They were notes on an erotic sonnet, each one resonating deep within me, igniting sparks that threatened to consume me whole.

As the intensity of our coupling began to overwhelm me, I felt my legs quivering, the pressure mounting and threatening to spill over. With a firm grip on her shoulders, I channeled all my strength into thrusting against her - plunging into Jennie with an urgency borne of pure desire and unbridled lust. Each thrust resonated deep within me, stirring up a tempest of emotions that swirled in harmony with the rhythm of our bodies colliding. The sweet friction generated by our union was as intoxicating as it was maddening.

The intensity of her orgasm was like a tidal wave, crashing over me and pulling me under. I could hear her screams of pleasure, echoing in my ears as she came undone beneath me. Her body trembled and quivered, every muscle taut and tense as she rode out the waves of ecstasy. Her nails dug into my back, leaving crescent moons etched into my skin as she held on for dear life. The sensation of her walls clenching around me, milking me for all I was worth, was almost too much to bear. I felt myself losing control, my own climax building rapidly as I thrust into her with abandon.

"Fuck, you're so tight," I groaned, my voice strained and desperate. "I'm gonna cum."

"Oh my God, Owen!" She cried out, her voice a desperate plea. "Fill me up!"

With a final, desperate thrust, I let go. The pleasure exploded outwards from my core, a blinding white light that consumed me whole. I felt myself spill into her, my release warm and thick as it filled her to the brim. Her body shook beneath me, her walls milking me for every last drop as she came undone once more. With a surge of desire, her inner walls gripped me tightly, milking every inch of my throbbing cock as she pressed herself against my groin. Her body trembled beneath me, the rhythmic motion causing her juices to mix with the heat of my own release, filling her to the brim with my essence. The sensation was overwhelming and intoxicating, a swirl of pleasure and wetness.

The culmination overwhelmed us, a torrent of delight that teetered on the edge of being unbearable. This peak, an oft-experienced sensation, was a mass consumption of joy that stemmed from my very essence. It was like a dazzling white glare, a flood tide crashing over me and pulling me under its swell. The impact nearly felt scary, but in the most positive way. It was as if each sensory neuron in me had been ignited, a harmonious symphony of sensations that left me breathless and quivering with fulfillment.

As the waves of pleasure began to subside, I collapsed onto the bed beside her, my body spent and satisfied. I pulled her close, my arm wrapped around her waist as I pressed kisses to her neck and shoulder. Her body was still trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to catch her breath.

I looked into her eyes, and what I saw there was a mixture of pleasure and longing, a deep emotional and physical satisfaction that mirrored my own. I held her in my arms, her body still trembling from the force of our climax. Her hair was plastered to her face, sweat sticking to her skin in a way that only added to her allure. She was breathtaking – a sight that I knew I would never grow tired of. As she lay there in my arms, panting and heaving, I couldn't help but think about what could have been between us.

The intensity of our connection flooded my mind with memories and regrets. I thought back to our time together years ago, when things were different. When the possibilities between us seemed endless. Back then, I had felt the magnetic pull towards her – the urge to give myself to her fully, to commit everything I had. But the fear always held me back, gripping my heart like a vise. I was terrified of losing myself in her, of the vulnerability that comes with true intimacy. So I held back, keeping her at arm's length even as we shared our bodies and souls.

She had wanted more, I knew that even then. I could see it in her eyes whenever she looked at me – that simmering desire for the whole of my heart. But the fear was too strong, the habit of self-protection too ingrained. And so she eventually moved on, leaving me bereft and full of remorse.

Now here she was again, trembling in my arms like she belonged there. The old longings came flooding back, mingled with regret. If only I could go back and choose differently, give her the love she deserved. But it was too late for that. The best I could do was cherish these stolen moments together, even as I knew deep down that I would inevitably pull back again. She was my North Star, my guiding light – but one that I could never fully reach no matter how hard I tried. The thought filled me with equal parts bliss and anguish. I held her tighter as she drifted off to sleep, wishing I could freeze this moment forever. --

I draw an elongated, languid pull from my cigarette, allowing the nicotine to seep into my bloodstream as I linger on this balcony, my perch above the dazzling, pulsating cityscape of New York. The night air is sharp, a crisp contrast to the lingering warmth that still clings to my skin—a souvenir from our passionate interlude.

Inside, Jennie is nestled in the land of dreams, her petite frame delicately cocooned in the luxurious hotel sheets that still bear the scent of our shared desire. I ought to join her, to envelop her in my arms and surrender to the beckoning call of sleep. However, a restless energy pervades my being, my mind a volatile whirlpool in the aftermath of our tempestuous coupling.

Jennie, a beautiful enigma, belongs to another now—Yet, tonight, we merged in a wild conflagration of raw desire, our bodies entwining in a dance as old as time itself, lost in a sea of ecstasy. I staked my claim on every inch of her, driven by a primal need to etch myself into her memory, an indelible mark she'd never be able to erase. Her nails etched a path of fervor down my back, her cries a symphony spurring me forward as we hurtled towards the precipice of oblivion. And when that moment of release arrived, it was a cataclysm—a searing flash of divine perfection that shattered us, only to rebuild us anew.

Commitment has always been my Achilles heel, a specter I avoid with the agility of a seasoned matador. It terrifies me, this concept of vulnerability and surrender. The lessons life has imparted have taught me that nothing golden remains, so I seize my moments of joy with a fierce grip, refusing to hold too tightly lest they slip away. I prefer to exist in a world of beautiful fragments, a mosaic of fleeting moments, rather than be tethered to a monotonous eternity. These thoughts weave their way through my mind as I exhale the ashen smoke from my lips, the remnants of my vice liberated from the confines of my lungs.

I flick the cigarette over the edge, its glowing cherry tracing a fleeting arc in the obsidian night, a dying star lost in the city's neon abyss. Jennie, she is my Polaris, an immutable point of light guiding my aimless wanderings even when she's a universe away. The distance between us may stretch into miles, yet I find myself perpetually ensnared in her cosmic pull, tethered to the irresistible gravity of her radiance.

Perched high above the city, I cast my gaze downwards, drinking in the nocturnal theater below. A ceaseless ballet of headlights, the urban arteries throbbing with life—cars darting like metallic fish, blaring horns that sing a discordant symphony of the city's pulse. Amid the clamor, a melody tiptoes into my consciousness, a haunting siren's song birthed from the events of the night. My next creation, a symphony of sentiments woven into delicate prose, stands ready to unfurl. It's an intimate piece of my soul, a whisper of my essence, something to bare and share with the world. A tapestry of words dipped in the hues of my deepest longings, a lingering echo of my heartbeat, yearning to resonate in the hearts of those willing to lend an ear;

I'm in town for one night, one night only

I came around to put it down, for one night only

Just one night

Got a room for me and you, for one night only

You wanna ride for a lifetime, this is one night only

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My first fic, hope you guys like it.

#male reader #smut #jennie kim #blackpink #jennie #malereader #jennie x male reader #blackpink x male reader

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chernabogs · 9 months

Text

Deepwaters

Inc: Lilia, Malleus, Silver, & Sebek Warnings: Brief mention of blood, implementations of death, mild existential questioning. Some chapter 7 spoilers may be seen, but they're quite subtle (nothing major) WC: 3.1k Summary: 4 brief snapshots to the poem 'What are Heavy?' by Christina Rosseti centred on youth, the ocean, and the consequences of memories. (done for the @briarvalleyarchives 'Summer Shorelines' event :) )

LILIA.

What are heavy? Sea-sand and sorrow;

“I reckon you would not be able to swim past the rock crevice there.”

A girl's voice holds pride as she stands on the beach, her hands on her hips and her lips curled into a cocky smile. Before her are two boys—one, who looks irate with her words, and another, who looks as though he wishes to sink into the dusty white sands. The irate boy gives a snort in response before looking out to the waters.

The ocean is wine red with the setting of the sun and the waves hit the shore like hands grasping forward. The horizon is but a jagged line, as though it’s a starving mouth waiting to see who it will bite.

“I reckon you want us dead,” the irate boy counters. “If you want to challenge us, Mallenoa, then perhaps you should try it first.”

Mallenoa’s cocky grin falters for just a moment before she huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. In the distance farther up the shoreline, a few guards can be spotted observing the trio as they stand there.

“I have already proven myself capable of swimming there, Lilia. You and Revan were the ones too cowardly to follow along.” Mallenoa points to the rock crevice again. It’s a few yards out from the shore—not a grand length—but the sea is growing unsteady as night makes her rapid descent. “I dare you.”

“It will be getting cold soon. Would it not be better if we just wait until tomorrow?” Revan starts to protest, his wiry voice like wind passing through reeds, but his comments fall on deaf ears as Lilia turns sharply to stare out at the water's beyond. His gaze skims over the toiling surface, watching as the waves leave foam to sink back into their embrace, before he snorts and begins walking forward.

“No coward's soul is mine!” Is all he calls over his shoulder in return. He wouldn’t be called cowardly by the likes of Mallenoa, simply because he knew her to be the one to never live it down. He could hear Revan’s worried voice calling for him to stop, but these words die as the roar of the waves grows louder and his feet plunge into their icy depths.

For a moment, he looks down and watches as the red waters swirl around him. In his youth, he remains unaware of the foreshadowing this image holds; he knows little of the red waters he will come to wade through in his future, or of the rivers he will craft with his own hands in the name of Queen and Country. He knows not of how he will drown in salt and copper and steel for a purpose that will fail in the end anyway. He knows not of the clock running out on his halcyon days.

For now, he is just a boy, too arrogant to say no to a friend.

The sand weighs him down as he moves deeper into the ocean. The waters embrace his legs, and then his waist, and then he’s falling forward into the abyss below. He moves like he’s always belonged in this darkness; the sensation of the tide rippling across his skin and the sight of the dying light reflecting on the surface above is so calming that he almost forgets to break through. His breath escapes in a flurry of bubbles before he breaches and inhales sharply, looking back to his friends on the shore beyond.

Mallenoa is laughing in delight. The childish innocence of joy darkens her cheeks, and he can still see this in the orange light as she watches him with adoration and pride. Revan stands by her side, his hand grasping her sleeve as anxiety is painted on his features. It is how it’s always been; one bravely diving into the dark, and the other trailing behind her, like a comet and her tail in the depths of space.

Lilia exhales softly and looks around. The water is still now, like his presence has soothed it, and his body rises and falls slowly. Seagulls cry out from somewhere beyond, perhaps on the rock crevice he’s meant to reach. He pushes back his hair and looks towards his friends once more. The sun is setting further, and they’re beginning to look like nothing but two dark silhouettes on the distant shore.

It feels isolating, in the middle of these waters, all alone.

Lilia begins to swim.

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MALLEUS.

What are brief? Today and tomorrow;

“Prince Malleus, do not stray too far out!” He hears the nanny call from somewhere back on the shore as he hurries down the wooden steps of the pier. There is no one else on this beach except him, his nanny, and Lilia, who has volunteered to accompany the restless boy lest he become too much for the nanny to handle. They had cleared any other attendees of the beach for just this one day—for one day is all the Queen would grant the prince’s guardians when it came to taking him out of the security that was Black Scale Palace.

The sound of his small feet hitting the sand is like a hiss, and he can feel the heat on his bare feet, his shoes having been discarded as soon as they arrived. He looks up and squints against the brightness; it’s rare for the sun to come out in the Valley, but summer days often bring on a drought, and so week-long periods of nothing but light are not unheard of.

This heat lasts only a moment before something hides him in shade again. When he looks over, he sees Lilia holding a parasol above them, a bemused expression on his face.

“Goodness, are you sure you’re a dragon and not a sea serpent? You seem quite eager to get in those waters,” he teases as he fusses over a strand of Malleus’ hair. The young prince swats his hand away with a pout.

“I am a dragon,” he grumbles back, before rushing forward again, all previous slights now forgotten in his eagerness to reach the clear blue waters. Lilia follows closely behind while the nanny hurries after them, holding a basket with lunch in one hand and the prince's shoes in another.

Malleus had read a great deal about the sea. Of the creatures that reside within it, of the folklore and mythology it holds, of the vastness and the grandeur. He has not, however, read about just how cold the sea can be, and so when he jumps both feet into the water at once, he lasts all of two seconds before he’s shrieking and running back to Lilia. His hands grasp his guardians arm and he seems downright offended as he looks back to the water.

“It’s so cold!” He cries, stomping his feet in the sand as though to warm them back up again. Lilia can’t help but laugh at the sight of the young dragon clinging to his arm—the poor boy looks shattered. He moves his hand to hold Malleus’ and clicks his tongue teasingly.

“My, did you expect it to feel like a hot bath, little prince?” He laughs as his other hand adjusts the parasol. “Come. I’ll show you the proper way to wade into the ocean.”

Malleus looks prepared to protest, but Lilia hears none of it as he holds the boy's small hand in his own, guiding him forward until they are at the water's edge once more. The waves are a baby blue colour, and they glimmer in the sunlight like glass and pearls.

“Now, you must move steadily. Let yourself adjust to the feeling, and then continue on.” Lilia hums as he slowly guides Malleus forward. The prince’s expression turns sour again when he steps back into the cold waters, but then it slowly shifts to contemplation, and then a bright smile as his body adjusts to the temperature change. His hand squeezes Lilia’s tight, as though afraid to let go too soon.

“The sand feels funny,” he notes in that manner that children so innocently do. He wiggles his toes in the clear blue water and watches as the sand slides easily off his skin. He moves closer to Lilia. “Please don’t let me go. I don’t want to get pulled in.”

“As if I’d ever let that happen to you,” Lilia muses, holding the prince’s hand close. “I’d never hear the end of it from your grandmother if I did.”

He looks up then, his gaze going to a familiar rock crevice in the distance. The sun beats down but the parasol shields them both as the sounds of the nanny setting up a towel for lunch, accompanied by the ocean waves crashing against the shore, creates a strange rhythm of peace in the air.

This is broken when Malleus kicks up water onto Lilia’s legs.

“Malleus!” Lilia yelps, moving back while still holding the prince’s hand. Malleus laughs in delight at his guardian's expense, and his face is filled with unrestrained joy. It’s the happiest that Lilia has seen the prince in a long time—in the palace on his own, he often looks quiet and sullen, as gray as the walls that confine him. This new sight reminds Lilia of a similar face with a similar expression he once saw on this shore, long ago.

He squeezes Malleus’ hand, and shakes his head with a smile as the boy goes to splash him once again.

------------------------------------------------

SILVER & SEBEK.

What are frail? Spring blossoms and youth;

“Why can I hear the ocean?”

Lilia’s eyes open slightly as he hears a voice. At first he sees green, and then he sees a scowl, and then he recognizes the inquisitor to be that of Sebek Zigvolt, who looks thoroughly unimpressed with a shell in his small hand. Lilia looks past Sebek, and then to his right, where he spots Silver half-asleep on the beach towel next to him.

Good. All his children he’s set to watch are accounted for, despite his impromptu nap.

“What do you mean?” Lilia hums as he sits up slowly. His answer is given in the form of Sebek shoving a seashell against his ear.

“I can hear the ocean!” The boy declares, louder this time and with more urgency in his tone. Silver mumbles something and sits up as well to look at Sebek with a faintly confused expression. Lilia puts his hand over the shell and guides it away from his ear.

“Because it carries a part of the sea in it.” Truthfully, it’s the sound of your own ear fluid being echoed back, but Lilia figures that will lead to even more confusion if he were to say something like that instead.

“How did it get the sea in there?” Silver yawns before moving closer to his father and friend, peering at the shell with interest. He reaches out to grab it, turning it over and letting the light reflect on its rainbow-like surface. “Trapping things is mean. What if the sea wants out?”

“I’m sure the sea is quite happy in there,” Lilia replies as Sebek comes to sit down on his other side. Both boys are now up and active, and although today is meant to be a break from learning and training, it doesn’t seem like this will be the case. Silver shakes his head.

“But what if it isn’t happy? What if the shell just thinks the sea is happy, but really, the sea is sad?” Silver presses the shell to his ear, and his expression becomes a bit more concerned as he looks back to his father. “I don’t want the sea to be sad.”

“The sea isn’t sad. The sea can’t feel anything,” Sebek counters with a scowl before looking back to Lilia. “Right?”

Lilia has to admire the fact that both boys manage to have such polarizing views on the matter. Youth never fails to amuse him. He carefully takes the shell back from Silver and turns it over in his hands. The shell is frail—he can see chips in its surface already. It isn’t a young shell, that’s for sure. A faint breeze passes over the trio, carrying the scent of ocean water and blossoms from the trees that they sit beneath.

Lilia glances up. Apple blossoms, it seems.

“Shall I free the sea, then? That would mean shattering the shell.” Lilia glances between the two boys. “Would you like me to break such a pretty shell?”

Silver looks uncomfortable with the question as his hand comes out to grasp his fathers arm. “I think… I think we should. The sea should be with the rest of itself, not locked away in a shell. That isn’t fair.”

“But who are you to decide what’s fair and what isn’t? Who are any of us to decide?” Lilia hums, a small smile playing on his lips. Perhaps there’s time to still sneak a few lessons in here for the boys to keep knowledge down the line. Silver looks more concerned as he glances at Sebek to answer.

Sebek puffs his cheeks out for a moment as he looks at the shell. His hands clench and unclench in his lap before he looks at Silver, and then to Lilia. “If it’s stuck inside, it’s our job to let it out, even if we like the shell. It isn’t right.”

“It isn’t right?” Lilia turns the shell over again, and then glances between the two boys. “Well then, if we’ve all come to a decision.”

He clenches his hand, and the shell snaps in half like it’s nothing. A trickle of water runs down to the grass beneath them, and then towards the sandy beach just beyond, as though travelling to the ocean it came from. The two boys watch it go as they stay sitting beside Lilia. There’s silence, broken only by the faint sighs of the wind brushing against the blossoms above.

“,,, did we make the right choice?” Silver then asks, looking at Lilia expectantly as Sebek quickly does the same. Lilia brushes his thumb across the shell fragments for a moment, studying its shattered opal interior, and then he simply shrugs with a smile.

“We won’t ever know if it was the right choice, but it was the choice that we made, nonetheless, and it’s the one that we shall have to live with. That’s just how it goes.”

------------------------------------------------

OUR FAMILY.

What are deep? The ocean and truth.

The scent of the ocean is too strong. The sun is too bright, the sand is too perfect, and it’s the only way that the three of them know this is another illusion they’re trapped in. The faint cries of seagulls in the distance and the waves crashing against the sand fill the otherwise stagnant painting they’ve been etched into. Silver looks around in worry, as does Sebek, but Lilia’s gaze is fixated on the rocky crevice in the distance.

It looks jagged, and blurred, as though someone blended it in with the horizon in a mock attempt to make it exist.

“You look concerned.”

And then he’s there. Tall, with his expression unforgiving as he stands in the toiling waters, looking back at them with faint indifference in his gaze. The sea kisses his boots as though worshipping him, and the breeze rustles his clothing slightly. Lilia exhales softly as he senses Silver and Sebek tensing by his side.

“Is it not right?” Malleus looks back out at the deep waters beyond. The sky is the gentle pink of dusk, and the sun is hidden in a painted haze as the silhouettes of birds fly in the distance. The horizon blends together and makes the ocean look as though it’s never-ending. This entire experience has been never ending so far—a dream upon a dream, a nightmare upon a nightmare.

Lilia is tired. He’s sure that the others are, as well.

“You’re close, but the crevice is off.” Lilia points out at the rocks beyond. Malleus follows his direction and hums thoughtfully.

“I couldn’t quite remember what it looked like when I was little.” Is the explanation he gives. “It all blurs together in the end anyway, doesn’t it? The memories, the moments. So easily tossed aside without a single warning, without a single goodbye.”

“Malleus,” Silver begins, but Malleus turns and raises a finger to his lips, hushing the younger boy softly. Sebek looks uncertain as his hand grips his magic pen. Malleus looks as he always has; there is no black ink dripping into the waters he stands in, there is no oppressive presence, no crushing weight of magic. He is as they remember—as their memories painted him to be.

“I’m adjusting to the waters,” Malleus hums thoughtfully. “Remember how you taught me that?”

Lilia’s brow furrows. “Malleus, this has gone too far out of line. You must—”

“Would you like to come in?” Malleus cuts him off and holds a hand out. There’s a smile on his lips, but it fails to reach his gaze, which remains as lifeless as the scenery that surrounds them. “I promise not to let you get pulled in.”

Lilia falls silent as Malleus pays tribute to the conversation they had many, many years ago. The hand he once held now is extended as a mockery to that brief, tender moment between guardian and child. Silver looks to his father and notes the expression on Lilia’s face before glancing towards Sebek. His own hand moves down to grip his magic pen.

“Sebek,” he calls softly, drawing the other boy's attention for just a moment. Malleus’ gaze turns sharply towards him and darkens. The sky begins to grow a deeper red colour as dusk approaches faster. The waters become a wine red once more, their tide increasing as though to offer an omen foretelling what’s to come. They’re restless, clashing against the sand like blood spilling on a pale earth. “Is the sea sad?”

Sebek looks confused for a moment, and then the memory dawns on him, and his expression shifts to that of an uncomfortable understanding. He exhales slowly, and the subtle nod he offers is enough for Silver to know that he agrees. Lilia’s attention is still locked on Malleus, on his extended hand and the dark, cold expression he’s giving the other two boys.

Silver’s hand tightens around his magic pen, and Sebek’s does the same as the sea toils before them, and the sky descends into the blackness of night. If something is trapped, it’s one's duty to let it free, even if it means shattering something that they love dearly.

They won’t ever know if it’s the right choice, but it’s the choice that they’re going to make, nonetheless.

#briarvalleyarchives #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #silver #twst lilia #twst malleus #twst silver #twst sebek #GOD this was the fastest i ever wrote for an event #the brain rot bro.... the wine red ocean #anyway lkfsdljffd

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altocat · 26 days

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so like, what would a Golden Saucer “date” be like with Glenn and Seph (using Cloud and Yuffie’s as a ref)

was thinking kind of like wholesome, where he shows every location and mini games to Seph, where it starts to where it ends…

maybe he opens up to the kid a bit, or the opposite lol

or angst. angst my beloved.

For once, Sephiroth won't shut up. He's never, EVER been someplace like this before, dazzled by the lights, dragging Glenn everywhere his feet can possibly take him. He wants to see everything, devour everything there is to know about such a unique, wondrous place. Fun. Freedom. Delicious concepts he's never digested before. By the time they get to the Ferris wheel, Sephiroth is abuzz with excitement, all but dangling out of the side of the gondola window. Glenn laughingly has to hold him back, telling him to calm down and enjoy the ride before he breaks his neck.

They sit back and enjoy the ride, Sephiroth's eyes growing wider and wider at every firework. They talk about how far they've come as a team, Glenn bluntly joking that he didn't like Seph in the beginning.

"And now?" Sephiroth asks, trying not to inwardly wince at the idea of Glenn's disapproval.

Glenn watches him, leaning back, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "You're a good kid, Seph. You got a good heart."

It's awkward for a few minutes. Sephiroth stares down at his lap, all pretense of playing the composed, noble leader completely lost on him. He looks shy, if anything. Boyish. Kicking his feet and fidgeting like a child waiting to hear the outcome of his report card. Glenn shakes his head and reaches over to pet him, rolling his eyes good naturedly.

"You take things too seriously. This is fun, isn't it? You were excited before."

"I've never SEEN anyplace like this before. It was just the lab and the base and the training grounds." Another fidget. "And the pit."

"The pit? What's that?"

Sephiroth is only silent, watching the lights. Glenn can make out the faint faded scars that lightly curl around his neck, the tiny indent near his collarbone.

"...Seph?"

"Mm?"

"I do mean it. You're a good kid."

"..."

"You should do something with your life that makes you happy."

Sephiroth pauses and glances at the older man, his expression more solemn than a child's face has any right to be. "I'm happy now."

"Yeah?"

"I'm here."

"You are."

"And...this is nice."

"It is..."

They watch the fireworks, red and golden showers that touch the dark synthetic sky.

"Glenn?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I stay with you?"

"Huh?"

Sephiroth shakes his head, Mako eyes glowing in the dim light, chewing on his lip. "Can I stay with this team? I don't have to lead it. I can protect you."

"Still on about that 'protecting' crap. You don't have to worry about that. Tough guys like me can protect ourselves."

"I still want to." Sephiroth squirms, cheeks pink. "To stay."

Glenn blinks, stares. He moves over to sit next to the boy, giving him a playful shove. "Did you think I was kicking you out?"

"No. But..."

"Stay as long as you like. Stay forever. You're less of a hardass than you were before. And you're amazing at what you do." Glenn's tone softens, feeling somewhat stupid as he looks away. "And...we're friends, right? That counts for something, too."

"Friends..." Sephiroth tastes the word, his voice little more than a murmur.

"Yeah. You're my friend. And Matt's. And Lucia's." Glenn smiles. "I like having you here. It's good for friends to be together like this. And I don't want that to change."

Sephiroth looks up at him, his expression slightly skewed behind his long silver bangs. He hesitates, unnatural pupils moving, changing shape as if caught between some great internal debate. When he scoots himself close to Glenn's side, there's something different about the light, something different about the dark span of the simulated comet's trail that illuminates the gloomy spaces.

Sephiroth's eyes are moist. He wipes them on his sleeve, the noises soft, barely audible. Glenn startles, but looks away to the give the boy time to settle. He just lets Sephiroth lean against him, a comforting warmth that is both shared and private at the same time.

They stay like that until the ride ends.

#asks #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephcanons #sephiroth #young sephiroth #gold saucer #glenn lodbrok #ffvii first soldier #first soldier #there have one of those stupid EC event stories without all the gatcha filler #ffvii ever crisis #ever crisis

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valoisfulcanellideux · 3 months

Text

So yesterday's post was mostly me gushing about this beautiful commission from @floweroflaurelin for These Stones Remember, and I only realised after the fact that embedding it in the middle of a text post meant that it was:

too small for many of the details to be appreciated

hidden for those who have 'collapse long posts' enabled on their dash

So I'm posting it again, but this time it's actually an image post in its own right. And - because I am NOT OVER THIS - I want to go into detail about, well... the details.

This is going to make most sense for people who have already read These Stones Remember, but maybe other Pix peeps will find something in it, too.

So let's go behind the cut, and look at some of those details, because boy did Sabira include some lovely little nods to the story! (Warning: There may be spoilers.)

The light of the Vigil

Not only does the warmth of the Vigil's light reflect from each character (with the exception of Malin, because they're already lit from within by their own soul light) but she also reaches out to touch each character with those tendrils of light emanating from her spire. And in the story Paix becomes the living embodiment of the Vigil once the Great Caravan leaves the ruin of Paixandria, so the Vigil truly does touch every person he comes into contact with.

Malin's 'soul energy trail'

Malin (for those who haven't read the story) is Pix's ethereal cat companion, who is made of soul energy from the gratitude of everyone Paix/Pix has guided or helped in some way over the course of 2,000 years. But Malin is not only a companion; they are also a protector and guardian of their eternal/immortal friend. Thus the trail of 'soul energy' that emanates from their tail in the illustration wraps around not only Pix and Paix, but also around the sword of the statue, which represents protection.

The Silver Ant

The Silver Ant is the old Paixandrian name for a long-period comet whose orbit sees it visiting the world every 200 years. In the illustration we see it visiting the past (left side of the image) and the present (right side of the image).

The split between past and present

On the left we see the past; golden and warm. The glorious city, the ivory and copper tones of Paix's raiment, all the regalia of royalty (crown, trident, cloak, ring), the faithful and devoted presence of Chaperone Mhenheli. And on the right we see the present; blue-toned and holding a heavy weight. The ruined city, the blue of Pix's shirt and the teal of Malin's form. Even the statue - though she's built that way in canon anyway - mirrors this, with her feathered wing in the warm past and her skeletal 'sextant wing' in the present.

The expressions

I have to point this out, in case you've not picked up on it. I described modern day Pix to Sabira as follows:

In the story, he is the same person as Paix; just 2,000 years later. So hair colour, general facial features etc would be the same. His eyes are more weary, though, because he's carried the guilt of what he did back then for those 2,000 years.

LOOK AT THOSE EYES

Modern-day Pix's expression is warm and open with a faint hint of a smile, but his eyes are guarded and weary. They're even a little bloodshot. Contrast that with the placid serenity of his past younger self, his clear kohl-lined gaze lifted as if looking up at the Vigil.

People, I AM EATING THAT DIFFERENCE UP WITH A SPOON, IT'S SO GOOD.

The royal regalia

The symbols of the Copper King's reign are:

the copper crown

the ring

the trident

the regalia cloak

The copper crown is Sabira's original design (which, in fact, inspired my description of it in the story) except my version has the two copper nodes exchanged for a tiny glowing conduit that lights his face, and an emerald. Both of these rest in their corresponding 'cradles' on the crown (shh, it's magic) until worn by the rightful king, at which point they both move into their 'hovering' positions. Looking at the image above, Sabira has even captured the glow from the conduit, reflecting from its surrounding cradle.

I gave Sabira free rein with the design of the ring, having only ever described it loosely in the story as a copper band surmounted by a cut emerald. And I was delighted with their resulting design, which mingles the shape of many candles (or even the surrounding pillars of the Vigil) with the conduit cradle, and then the emerald.

The regalia cloak and trident are both Sabira's own beautiful classic designs, which most (well, all) of my followers who like Pix will already be familiar with.

And, lastly, one other little detail so small that you probably didn't even notice it unless you zoomed in closely...

The earring

Paix's deepslate emerald teardrop earring (no connection to Max's earring at the end of the story) was his own personal thing. We all know how Pix canonically loves his deepslate emerald, so I figured that I'd have him wishing the ring had that stone in it rather than a pure, cut emerald. Instead, he opted to wear a deepslate emerald earring. He wears small copper hoops in both ears, but from the left one he also has the teardrop earring.

But look closer, at both his earring and at modern-day Pix:

Can we all just please admire the fact that modern-day Pix has a piercing hole because he once wore those earrings, and that the weight of the deepslate emerald earring worn by Copper King Paix actually stretches his piercing hole a little?

Details, people. DETAILS. This is why Sabira is the fucking BEST. GAH!

Anyway, this took almost my entire lunch break to write, so I'm now going back to work xD

#these stones remember #empires smp #empiresblr #pixlriffs #empires pixlriffs #empires fanfic #mcytblr #mcyt #the ancient capital #pixandria #the copper king #pixlriffs fanart #flower of laurelin

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violettduchess · 1 year

Note

Hello! I don't know if you're still taking kisses requests but I'd love one for Isaac bc he's baby and I wanna give him all the smooches<3 thank you!!

A/N: Here you go @akitsuneswife 💜

Isaac x Reader

Word Count: 454

His eyes, the soft pink of cherry blossoms in springtime, light up when he sees you waiting on the university steps. The sky above is already darkening, an ombré of blues from the last, light vestiges of day to the halcyon, inky darkness of night. After a long day of classes and conferences, you are the last person he expects to see and somehow, the only one he wants to. It’s late enough that students and faculty are scarce, the usually bustling entrance of the science building all but deserted. He lowers his worn leather satchel and opens his arms to welcome you as you bound up the alabaster stairs and step into his arms.

Like magnets, your faces tilt and your lips find each other, drawn to one another with a force as natural as it is undeniable. His words, spoken not all that long ago, echo through your mind as your lips touch: “You’re the first person I’ve ever laughed with…felt peace with…the first one I’ve ever felt possessive of…”

Sometimes when Isaac kisses you, he burns as brightly as a comet, his mouth leaving a fiery trail of kisses across the firmament of your body. You're lambent with want, glowing with need. He leaves the world of rational thinking behind and with you, sinks into the wonder of just being. Of feeling. Of letting go and allowing the primal, uralt desire that spins in our cores to drive his actions, his touches, his soft, half-growled whispers. Sometimes he leaves you, deliciously broken, deliriously spent, your mind unable to form a single thought, capable of nothing other than listening to the throb of your heart as it drums how much you love him.

But sometimes, like this velveteen moment on the white marbled steps of academia, there are no chaotic explosions. His lips on yours don’t burn, but rather soothe. It is the gentle, peaceful twinkle of starlight, the silver beam of moonlight as it brightens the night. The kiss of someone who cherishes you, protects you, will always shelter you with every atom of his being.

His kiss sends a warm ripple of satisfaction through your veins as you lean into his arms, feel them tighten around you. You love how you fit into his embrace, how your bodies feel like matching puzzle pieces that lock together perfectly to create a picture of pure happiness. He slides his hands upward until he cradles your face, allowing himself the luxury of using only his sense of feel (your skin under his palms), of taste (your lips, sweeter than apples), of sound (your hushed sighs of contentment). You transcend his need to analyze, to tinker, to figure out.

You allow him to exist, just like this.

And you love him, just as he is.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp isaac #ikemen isaac #isaac newton #isaac x reader #kisses #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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trudemaethien · 5 months

Note

Hi! The random generators (even if I had to use a different one for the words) gave me Hardcase/Comet and evanescent shoe.

Beautiful.

“Nah, that guy’s called Comet because he leaves behind a deceptively sparkly trail of icy debris in his wake. You don’t want to go after him, Hardcase.”

“Maybe I’d like to chase that tail, though,” Hardcase says, staring after the path Comet’s circling around the dance floor. He’s soon lost in the swirling, gyrating throng.

“Torrent pup thinks he want to try and run with wolves?” one of the Wolfpack teases, draping himself over the back of their booth. This is the silver-haired one, and he looks eerie under the colorful lights. His grin has more teeth than are strictly friendly, but he is grinning and slouching and talking to them, so Hardcase smiles back cheerily.

“Sounds like an exhilarating good time,” he says, and across the table Jesse mouths (Sinker) at him, so he adds, “You wanna introduce me, Sinker? I’ll wag my tail and everything; only bite for play.”

Sinker throws back his head and laughs. “Only because I think Comet would get a kick out of you. Come on; what am I introducing you as…Bold, Terror, Audacity?”

“It’s Hardcase.”

Sinker laughs harder, chest shaking against Hardcase’s bicep as he guides them through the crowd. He lets go and gives Hardcase a shove, making him trip and stumble right into the arms of—he looks up and it’s who he asked to meet, Comet, looking down at him bewildered and then up at his smirking brother.

“I brought you a squeaky toy,” Sinker says smugly. “Comet, Hardcase; Hardcase, Comet.”

Comet looks at him again, amused and puzzled. “You…squeak?” Hardcase gets his feet back under himself and straightens his fatigue blouse.

“Bet, if you bite him,” Sinker teases, shoving them together again as he passes them to leave. “Have fun; save the pieces!”

At least Hardcase didn’t trip this time.

“Hi,” he says, “I did not ask him to say that.”

“No, I know; sorry my brother thinks he’s funny.” But Comet looks like he thought it was pretty entertaining too, and his smile has the same sort of teeth as Sinker’s had. No wonder people call the Wolfpack feral.

Hardcase glances over where Jesse and Fletch had been and doesn’t see them, and then feels the sharp pinch of teeth on his neck, and a swipe of warm wet tongue between them. He does make an embarrassingly high noise, and Comet’s snickering becomes giggling becomes full-blown laughter.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says unrepentantly, eyes glittering with glee, and that’s it. This is one grenade these wolves have tried to cook off just a moment too karking long.

Hardcase reels him in and kisses his laughing mouth with more teeth than is nice, and apparently that’s exactly the way these lunatics like it. Comet groans and gives back as good as he’s getting.

Hardcase can’t say he doesn’t like it, himself.

He’s not exactly sure how they get back to the barracks, since it’s hard to observe your surroundings with someone in your face; it’s a blur of making out and moving on autopilot.

The Wolfpack survivors had been given smaller quarters, and it seems they remain in them while regaining battalion strength and retraining all their new arrivals. It’s there that they land. No one else is in, and there’s not a whole lot of discussion why or who’s where, only less and less clothing and more and more enthusiastic touching.

It’s very nice, even if Comet’s a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy. Hardcase feels lucky to have gotten to know him like this. He’s a lot of fun, joking and teasing and wrestling.

Telling Comet this turns into round number—are they counting? Nope, they have better things to be doing.

<><>

Hardcase checks the chrono and curses with lighthearted annoyance. “I have formation. Wish I could stay.” He sits up and starts sorting through the mess of fatigues on the floor to separate his out.

“Mmm, I’ll keep the bed warm for you,” Comet says, tracing fingers over his hip and up the line of his tattoo on his back.

Hardcase turns and catches his hand, kissing his knuckles and tucking it away where it can’t start anything else they don’t have time to finish. “I’ll probably have detail all morning, and resupply after midmeal. This evening?”

“We’re taking night watch all this next week,” Comet says regretfully.

“And we leave in two days,” Hardcase adds, further dampening the mood.

“If this is goodbye, come tell me properly,” Comet pulls him in, and kisses him until he’s too distracted to think of being sad.

“Wasn’t it, uh, zero-eight for your formation?” Comet asks against his lips, “because it’s quarter-til.”

“Kriff,” Hardcase says with feeling, and scrambles to his feet. “Where’s my belt, cap…” he mumbles, patting himself down and looking around to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. “Toss me my other shoe, by the bed?”

Comet wings it at him, and Hardcase barely catches it, turning into the throw with an involuntary shout. Comet, still tangled in his sheets, is cracking up, so Hardcase flings it back at him to shut him up, and immediately regrets it as Comet tucks the shoe under himself and looks prepared to defend it with the utmost shenanigans.

“Hey, no, I need that! Come on, Comet.”

“No, I think I’m keeping this now,” Comet drawls.

“Hhheckkk. Please give it back? I’m already going to be late; you’re going to make me be out of uniform too? And I just got done dealing with the assholes in requisitions,” Hardcase wheedles.

“Take one of mine,” Comet says nonchalantly kicking the lid off his half-slid-out under-bunk kit box. His boot-shoes, worn with both armor and with fatigues are right on top. “Maybe it’ll help you keep your feet.”

Hardcase pauses, instantly more serious. “You’re giving me a piece of your shell?” he asks carefully, reining back his sudden eager interest.

“You did it first,” Comet says easily, but his smile says he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Keep my paint clean, you hear?”

There’s a thin stripe of grey around the edge of the sole. Hardcase’s boots are still unpainted. He hadn’t been joking about just having to draw new ones from supply after his last set had gotten damaged.

“I’ve still got to paint mine,” Hardcase says. “I can do it next time I see you?”

“Yeah,” Comet says, hugging his pillow. “I’d like that.”

Chasing Tail 🔒 https://archiveofourown.org/works/51903022

#writing prompt #ask answered #fanfiction #star wars tcw #cloneshipping #clones #clone armor #hardcase/comet #clone trooper comet #clone trooper hardcase #wonder what mission 501st is going on now? *coughumbaracough*#wonder why comet has this reputation #and why it wont be changing any time soon #bad luck buddy #🥺😭😭#im a little evil sry

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chaztalk · 1 month

Text

Rinkai!

Studio: TMS Entertainment (Fruits Basket)

Summary: Izumi Itō is a high school girl who loves cycling. After witnessing a race in which the best female bicycle racers compete against each other, Izumi vows to become a bicycle racer with her friends.

A Salad Bowl of Eccentrics (Henjin no Salad Bowl)

Studio: Synergy SP (Major), Studio Comet (Initial D)

Summary: While trailing someone, the poor detective Sousuke Kaburagi runs into Sara, an imperial princess from another world who uses black magic. Sousuke and Sara gradually begin living together, but in the blink of an eye, Sara becomes accustomed to modern-day Japan...

Girls Band Cry

Studio: Toei Animation (One Piece)

Summary: The main character drops out of high school in her second year, and aims at entering a university while working alone in Tokyo. A girl is betrayed by her friends and doesn't know what to do. Another girl is abandoned by her parents, and tries to survive in the city by doing part-time jobs. This world lets us down all the time. Nothing goes as planned. But we want something that we can continue to like. We believe there's a place where we belong. That's why we sing.

Unnamed Memory

Studio: ENGI

Summary: Witches—the centuries-old mages that command power immense enough to bring catastrophe. Oscar, the crown prince of the powerful kingdom of Farsas, was cursed as a young boy to never sire an heir. Hoping to break the magic, he seeks out Tinasha, the strongest witch on the continent. To meet her, he climbs her tower, as she is said to grant the wish of any who successfully do so. Yet, when he arrives at the top…he requests that Tinasha become his bride!

Viral Hit

Studio: Okuruto Noboru (Tomodachi Game)

Summary: Scrawny high school student Hobin Yoo is probably the last guy you’d expect to star in a NewTube channel that revolves around fighting. But after following some advice from a mysterious NewTube channel, Hobin is soon knocking out guys stronger than him and raking in more money than he could have ever dreamed of. Can Hobin keep this up, or will he eventually meet his match?

Mission: Yozakura Family

Studio: SILVER LINK. (Non Non Biyori)

Summary: Taiyo Asano is a super shy high school student and the only person he can talk to is his childhood friend, Mutsumi Yozakura. It turns out that Mutsumi is the daughter of the ultimate spy family. Even worse, Mutsumi is being harassed by her overprotective, nightmare of a brother, Kyoichiro. Taiyo will have to take drastic steps to save Mutsumi.

Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night

Studio: Doga Kobo (Oshi no Ko)

Summary: The young artist Yoru Kurage has been on hiatus ever since a certain incident. In reality, her name is Mahiru Kōzuki. She became traumatized by the pressure of being "special" and instead decided to live a normal, standard high school life. However, things change when she meets former idol Kano Yamanōchi.

A Crow Doesn't Choose Its Master (Karasu wa Aruji o Erabanai)

Studio: Pierrot (Bleach)

Summary: Yukiya is the lackluster second son of a regional boss in the North House territory. His younger brother has overtaken him in academics. He is no good at sword battle, either. Not that this ever bothers him. So it comes as a shock when this boy, who claims to have no ambition whatsoever, is the one chosen to attend the Imperial Prince in Court--. What awaits Yukiya and his new master is intrigue, murder, a mysterious drug, and invasion from an unexpected enemy. Can they save the world of Yatagarasu (three-legged crows of Japanese myth)?

Mysteries, Maidens, And Mysterious Disappearances

Studio: Zero-G (Grand Blue)

Summary: A mysterious incident that occurs in a row in a city. The challenge to this monster is... With a writer's aspiration, Sumireko, who is a plain girl and has a lot of sexual appeal and body. Although it looks like a boy, it is a bookstore clerk from Adashino who is full of mystery.

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talzane · 2 years

Text

Since I've listed the pros and cons of Danyal Al'Ghul vs Daniel Kyle and decided that Daniel Kyle is superior, here's the Danyal Al'Ghul story.

A silver and green half-track, built on the frame of an RV, screeched into the parking lot as the sun set, a trail of dust behind it slowly drifting in the wind. Its bottom half was caked in mud, the green, comet-like logo branded with a darker, green 'F' just barely above the filth. The driver and passenger doors exploded open, violently spewing mud in all directions, as a massive, day-glo orange neoprene wearing man catapulted his bulk from the driver's side and a much smaller, feminine figure clad in a teal, neoprene jumpsuit with its hood pulled over her head flipped out of the passenger seat. Both skidded to a halt facing the worn, dirty warehouse they'd come for.

"Ready, Mads?" The jolly, orange giant called.

"Always ready to catch some ghosts, Jack."

"Fenton Family Ghost Hunting Taskforce, move in!" In dramatically quiet, but nonetheless obvious, fashion, the obnoxiously orange man and his blue suited, red goggled wife unlimbered their respective bazookas and crept towards the door of the warehouse.

When they reached the door, they both posed, Maddie dramatically chose to crouch as low as possible with her feet spread wide apart, her bazooka held in one hand while the other hand grasped the door handle to open it. Jack chose to pose like an action figure next to the door; his bazooka was held diagonally across his body, his...large chest thrust forward, his shoulders back, and an idiotically serious look was plastered on his face.

Maddie opened the door as quietly as possible, the door creaked loudly like nails on a chalk board, and then, when the door was fully open, red lights burst into being inside the warehouse and a warning klaxon sounded. Jack stuck his head inside the doorframe to see what ghosts awaited them and rapidly ducked back behind the doorframe. Dozens of arrows whistled through the space where his head had been moments before.

"We've got a ghost, Maddie!"

"Ja--"

"CHARGE!" Jack put action to words and heaved himself through door, bazooka first, behind a shield of green fire from the mouth of his Fenton Bazooka. Maddie, less enthusiastically, followed her enthusiastic husband.

The interior of the warehouse was dark, lit intermittently by the flashing of the warning lights, but it was so loud that a normal person would have gone hoarse attempting to be heard over the cacophony of klaxons and sirens wailing. For Jack, he would only need to use his indoor voice.

The interior of the warehouse was filled with wooden crates, pallets, metal bins, and high shelves of industrial quality, but there didn't seem to be any people or ghosts inside. Maddie and Jack continued in the warehouse, they were certain there were ghosts inside. Nobody would ever lie to their tip-line, after all.

Jack lead them through the apparently emtpy warehouse, "Show yourself, spook! You've bothered innocent people long enough!"

Maddie pressed her left hand to her forehead, he'd just given up any surprise they'd had left.

The sirens, alarms, and klaxons fell silent as the echoes of her husband's demand faded. "I am not a ghost. Are you a blimp, orange man?" The voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.

Jack puffed up even further as he craned his neck, attempting to locate the spirit, "I am *not* a *blimp*!"

Maddie jumped to her husband's aid, he was ever so terrible at banter, "Show yourself, ghost! You've haunted this place long enough!"

A confused chuckled reached their ears, "You aren't welcome here, humans. Leave my lair now, or I will destroy you."

Jack fired and arcing barrage of green blasts towards the direction the chuckle emanated from, "Take that!" They watched each shot splash off the shelves and rafters near the roof, Jack had missed.

The chuckle came back in force, "That wasn't even close, fat man," the voice turned malevolent, "My turn." Small, black balls whistled in from out of the darkness and landed at Jack and Maddie's feet.

Jack's boat horn of a laugh sounded for a second, "Ha! You miss--" the balls exploded, clouding the area in smoke.

Feet slapped against the ground, and something darted through the smoke. Jack fired at it, but it was already gone. The shadow darted back in, trailing something that glinted dully in the smokey haze.

"Jack! Look out!" Maddie called as she leaped in front of her husband, the collapsible Fenton Machete in hand. Maddie clashed with the shadow's silver whisp, and they circled each other; Maddie's machete darted in and out of the ghost's space, her blade a whirlwind of efficiency, but each strike was countered by that dastardly spook's silver whisp. Jack attempted to circle Maddie to line up a shot on the ghost, but for every step he took, the shade moved too, successfully keeping Maddie between it and Jack.

The repeated, rapid movements of Maddie and shadow began to clear the smoke, and as it dissipated, the ghost disappeared again. "A challenge, unexpected, but not unwelcome. Why do you hang around that buffoon when you could be so much more?"

"I'll never be a ghost!" Maddie retorted.

"We will see, blue woman."

"Think it left," Jack inquired.

"For now, it'll be back."

The duo continued to scan the warehouse, but quickly reached the back wall. "Look at this!"

Maddie turned her back on the open space of the warehouse, "What is it J-- Is that a detonator?"

Jack slapped on his best, oafish grin, "Want to test our theory of ghost dependence on the stability of their lair?"

Maddie's face twisted into a grin, "It *would* be a good experiment; great idea hon--" she cut off at a most unexpected sound. A baby's wails just barely reached her ears, "Do you hear that?"

"It's probably just a trick from that spook!"

"What if it isn't? We can't kill a baby, Jack," so Maddie continued to hunt the baby with Jack dogging her steps, grumbling about no good specters.

"Stay away from there!" Resounded from the rafters, drawing fire from Jack. "I will destroy you, leave my lair!"

"I'm not leaving a child with a ghost!" Maddie called out.

Whistling arrows rained from the air, Maddie rolled and flipped her way behind a crate as the arrows pinged off the concrete floor. Jack ducked behind a larger-than-Jack crate and looked to Maddie who met his eyes, "Get the baby, I'll handle this spook."

Jack darted in the direction of the cries as Maddie stepped out from behind the crates with her machete drawn, "Come on, dazzle me!" Smoke bombs rained from above, each shattered on the hard floor to unleash their smoke.

Jack looked back as he ran for the baby, the last he saw of Maddie was her small form standing in defiance of a dark ghost as a cloud of smoke writhed around her, growing higher and higher till it engulfed her teal form.

Maddie faced into the cloud and closed her eyes, listening to a voice from long ago, her sensei.

-----------------

"But Sensei, I can't see!"

"When you close off one sense, all the others are heightened; what do you hear, what do you feel? Listen, feel the ground, the air around you. You can fight, even if you cannot see. Just do, don't think."

----------------

Maddie raised her machete to her left; she heard and felt the clang of metal on metal as the "ghost's" blade bit into hers. "You'll have to be faster than that," and she exploded into action.

The shadow she fought darted in and out of range, targeting the hand holding her machete, but every step, every breath, every swish of its blade carried to her perfect ears. Maddie answered each blow and each step as though she were dancing.

"This isn't possible!" Her opponent called out.

"This isn't over yet," Maddie answered the kidnapper, "Let me show you what's possible." Then, Maddie attacked.

---------

Jack found an area cordoned off from the rest of the warehouse by a wall of thick blankets, and he entered. Inside, he found a room centered around a wheeled cart supporting a plastic bin holding a small, wrinkled infant. The baby truly was an infant; Jack remembered how Jazz, his daughter, looked when she'd been born and when they'd been allowed to take her home, and to him, this baby appeared to be only a few days old. A few days old an already stolen by a ghost.

A foul smell reached Jack's nose, but not one that needed changing; Jack followed his nose to an area outside the blankets. The office he followed the smell to was empty for the most part, but held two corpses, a man and a woman, each covered in their own blood and holding the other; the baby's parents. His face twisted in anger, *darn Spooks!*

He ran back to the baby and scooped the infant into his arms, "I've got ya, buddy; let's get out of here, okay?" The baby fell silent, staring at Jack. Jack started back towards the way he'd come in, but came face to face with the smoke cloud his wife was in. The clash of metal, snarls of anger, and the stamp of feet echoed out from the impassive, dark cloud. "You get 'em, honey," Jack whispered, hoping she'd be okay.

Jack and the baby circled the cloud of smoke, which led Jack back to the detonator. Still filled with anger from the sight of the baby's family, Jack tucked the infant into one of his massive pockets and began to work on the detonator.

----------

In the center of the smoke, a clear space had emerged centered on the battle between Maddie and the assassin. "You're no ghost."

"Took you long enough." The darkly wrapped figured dashed towards Maddie again, and was again repulsed with a wall of steel and muscle.

They circled each other, watching for the slightest opening. Maddie took one step back, then another, slowly approaching the veil of smoke. The assassin snarled when he saw what she was doing, "You won't escape!"

"Try to stop me," Maddie sassed and then disappeared into the smoke.

-----------------

Jack began to nervously scan the area around him, the sounds of battle had stopped, but he hadn't heard anything to tell him who won. *Please let it be Mads.* His hands continued a moment longer, and then he looked at his handiwork, "Done!"

Jack slung his bazooka over his back, removed the infant from his pocket, and made to leave the warehouse, just like Maddie said.

Halfway to the exit, he heard a snarl and spun, facing up, to see the darkly wrapped ghost with its glowing, green eyes dropping towards him, blade poised to end Jack's life. Jack froze, and the blade kept coming closer and closer; time seemed to slow down. There were so many things Jack still wanted to do, but there was so little time left.

A teal blur crashed into the ghost and carried them through a line of shelves and back into the red-lit darkness. The two had barely made a sound, and Jack had never felt so out of his depth; Jack was loud, but this battle was silent; Jack was bright, even his jumpsuit was day-glo orange, but this was a fight in the shadows; Jack hefted the infant and continued to bustle towards the door.

----------------

Maddie and the assassin crashed into the ground and flipped apart, her smaller stature belied their matched skill. "Stay away from my husband."

"You should have stayed away from the babe, now you must both die."

Their blades clashed, each blade covered in bite marks and scratches. Maddie's red goggles glared into the assassin's green goggles, then she rammed her shin into his thigh, eliciting a grunt from the ferocious man. She tried again, but his free hand dashed out, grabbed her shoulder, and flipped her through the air.

Maddie landed lightly on her feet, knees bent to absorb the shock and met the goggles of her enemy. "Still not dazzled, come on!"

"Where's your husband going, Mrs. *Fenton*?" Maddie froze, "Did you really think slapping your name on everything wouldn't give you away? You can't hide from us, you might as well die now."

Her eyes narrowed and her feet adjusted, "No, now *you* have to die." Maddie attacked.

----------------

Jack huffed as he ran through the doors and towards the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle, infant in tow. "Almost there, bud," he wheezed, "Almost," he panted, "there." Jack hauled the passenger door open and laid the baby on the seat. Jack rested with one arm on the doorframe, the other on the door, and his eyes on the baby he'd just saved, "You okay, boy? I'm sure Maddie will be out in a minute."

Jack waited. He felt like he'd waited an eternity, but he waited longer. Maddie would be out, she'd make it, she'd win. She was a Fenton, Fentons don't lose to ghosts.

---------‐-

Maddie continued to back away as the assassin flooded towards her, his blade a whirlwind of destruction. She parried, waiting for an opening, but they'd both learned too much about the other to leave any; whoever made the first mistake would die.

As she backed into an open space littered with pallets and crates, Maddie began to feel fear; if she looked behind her, she'd die, but if she didn't look behind her, she'd walk into something and die. Maddie waited for the assassin to slash towards her neck again and helped the blade along its trajectory with her own before rolling past the assassin and lunging from her crouch towards his head.

The assassin rolled under lunge away from her. When he faced her, he had his back to the room of crates and tripping hazards. Her face twisted in a feral grin, "Now, you die."

She carefully drove the assassin towards obstacle after obstacle, each time he tried to get behind her to return the favor, she drove him back yet again with further, skilled aggression. Her machete was pitted and dented, but it was built for hacking through branches, brush, and whatever else. The assassin wasn't so lucky; his blade was thin, deadly, but not meant for intense, drawn-out combat.

The assassin backed himself into a tall crate, and with no other choice, he lunged at Maddie. Maddie swept his blade to the side, stepped forward, grabbed his hilt with her free hand, and rammed her machete into the back of his blade as she yanked his hilt higher. The assassin headbutted her, and she stumbled back, but she'd already won.

Sensing an opening from her stumble, the assassin attacked; every slash, every thrust, every movement he made, she defended the same way. She hammered the center of his sword with her machete.

"Getting lazy?" The assassin mocked.

"No, you?"

They crashed into each other yet again. Maddie blew past the assassin's guard and threw him to the ground. A metallic snap echoed through the chamber. He flipped to his feet and back into his guard, but with only half his sword.

Maddie smiled sweetly at the assassin, "Size isn't everything, sweetie, but I think you're going to need to compensate."

"Still enough here to kill you."

"Oh honey, that's where you're wrong." Maddie attacked, and without his long blade, she was much closer. Every attack he tried, she countered.

Desperate to finish her before she succeeded at chopping his hands off, the assassin switched from a double, forehanded hold to a single, backhanded grip. Maddie scoffed, "Really?"

The assassin parroted her words from earlier, "Come on, dazzle me!"

Maddie rushed forward, but so did the assassin. At first, Maddie fell back, surprised by the efficiency of his attacks, but that didn't last. The green goggled assailant was predictable, so Maddie lunged into the opening he created. Her machete hack down into the assassin's skull as pain exploded in her side. With great effort, Maddie crunched her machete out of the assassin's head, glared into his goggles, and embedded her machete in his neck. She hacked at it again; again; and again until it fell free from his corpse, then she finally looked down.

The hilt of the katana protruded from her left side just below her ribs. Maddie left it in, it was the only thing stopping her from bleeding out. Her finger limply gripped the machete, her hand afire with pain from the protracted duel, as she stumbled towards the exit.

Maddie pressed her left hand to her ear, "Jack, can you hear me?"

"You betcha, Baby! Where's the ghost? Did you get it? Are you alright?"

She gritted her teeth against the pain in her side, "The 'ghost' is dealt with, Jack. When I'm out, I want you blow up the building."

"But why? If you got the ghost..."

"There will be more if we don't, Jack. Just trust me."

"Will do, roger, see you soon, over, Baby!"

Maddie pushed the warehouse door open with her full weight, then squared her shoulders as much as possible, and walked towards Jack, who was standing outside the GAV.

----------------

Jack took in the sight of his wife walking towards him. The left side of her suit from the waist down was covered in her blood, she had a sword sticking out of her side, her suit was torn in various places, her right goggle was cracked, she had an incredibly dented, bloody machete in her right hand, but she was alive. Jack reached inside the GAV and pressed the red button.

The warehouse exploded behind Maddie, who didn't even flinch as it burst into a million pieces. The dust cloud from the concussive wave billowed around her torn, wounded figure.

Finally, she reached him, "Let's go home, Jack."

Jack tenderly wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her, "There's a sword sticking out of you, baby. Let's deal with that, and *then* go home."

Maddie dazedly smiled at him, "Okay."

---------------

The sun had risen while they were tending to Maddie's wounds. Jack glanced over at Maddie in the passenger seat, holding their new baby, "Do you think ghosts will come after him again, Mads?"

Maddie hummed and her brow knitted with worry, "I don't know, Jack, but we'd better be prepared. No ghosts are going to take our son from us."

"What should we name him? Davey?"

"No," she looked into the baby's eyes, "Danny. Danny Fenton," the baby giggled, "I think he likes it, Jack."

Jack grumbled, "Fine, but it's still a silly name."

--------------

Talia al'Ghul, daughter of the Demon Head, member of the League of Shadows, screamed in heartbroken, incandescent rage at the ruins of the warehouse, "WHERE IS HE!? WHERE IS MY BABY!?"

"It's for you," the assassin nearest her handed her a communicator.

Talia looked into the communicator, "What is it, Father?"

The aged visage of her father glared back at her, "The child is lost, either to the inferno or our enemies, and there is nothing to be done at this time. Your son will not have survived in any regard. Return to base immediately, Wayne has become difficult during your absence, and I need you to control him." Right, Bruce Wayne, her beloved, the father of the lost child she wasn't permitted to tell him she was pregnant with in the first place. Now she had to return without their child. "Do not tell him of what has transpired here, it will not help."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #dp au #jack and maddie #maddie fenton #dc x dp #jack fenton #talia al ghul

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foecomettrails · 11 months

Photo

#comet dust #matt #Silver Gust #zebra #fallout equestria #comet trails #fallout #pony #My Little Pony #friendship is magic #gmod #garry's mod #webcomic #HeadHunter Productions #story #Chrono

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bam-stroker · 16 days

Note

Rest stop prompt time!!!!

Have you ever thought about Sun trying to teach Moon how to skate?

I haven't but o buddy this is so sweet, I have now!!!! Have a drabble my friend (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Soooooooooo~ I’ve got a special date planned for tonight, Moonglow.” Sun hums warmly, as they lean across the front check-in desk with easy confidence. Instead of their usual diner uniform, they have on one of Moon’s short sleeve button up shirts. The dark blue and black color scheme has Sun’s yellow silicone glowing even brighter than usual. It’s become a frequent habit of theirs to borrow Moon’s clothes, and it still leaves him a flustered mess every time he sees them wearing it. The little star flair designs along the front must be matching how bright the constellations along his cheek are shining.

Fully distracted by it all, it takes a moment for Moon’s mind to catch up. He blinks the stars from his eyes, and hides his flustered smile in the safety of his nightcap. “Special? Should I bring anything?”

Sun’s fingers swirl along the black countertop like golden comet trails, a mischievous quirk to their smile as they say, “Wear your shorts. I don't want you tripping over your pants.”

✨

As the street lamps kick on, Moon waits outside the diner for Sun. The humidity and heat of the day lingers over the hot asphalt like a warm blanket. Past the glow of the neon signs and lamps lining the sidewalks, he catches quick glimpses of the stars in the night sky. A shiver rattles through him as a cool night breeze brushes against his bare legs. He only has a few pairs of shorts, and it’s rare he ever wears them, but for Sun he’s willing to give them a try from time to time. He much prefers the familiar comfort of cloth covering his knobby robotic legs, but the warm weight of Sun’s hand on his knee sure can be a motivator to change up his look when they ask.

Dusty blue silicone peaks out below the crisp hemline of his shorts on his upper thighs, only for the color to fade like the twilight to darker shades towards his calves. Embroidered stars and moons dance along the hemline of his navy blue shorts, as little bursts of white, silver, and gold. Nestled snugly above his waist, he fiddles with the tip of his black leather belt to try and tuck it behind the closest loop. The blue and yellow stripes along his white shirt reflect back through the diner windows as he does so.

The chime of the diner door grabs his attention, but before he can look up, an unfamiliar whoosh steamrolls towards him like a freight train. Wide eyed with shock, a blur of yellow rockets towards him, and he wonders if the comet is falling from the roof to crash into him.

“Hey there handsome!”

All at once, the motion consumes him as Sun’s arms wrap tight around his waist to lift him up. He yelps with surprise, hanging on to them like a dizzy koala, as they spin in perfect circles. While that train rattling sound crunches on the concrete below them.

“Surprise!” They chime, as they finally slow to a stop.

Moon keeps his arms and legs firmly wrapped around Sun, as if at any moment the roller-coaster might start up again. They titter gleefully as he simply gawks at them. “What… was that?!” The usually low soothing murmur of his voice raises to sound much closer to the tinny tenor of Sun's natural tone.

Sun hefts him up in their arms, humming with mischievous delight as their warm palms cradle the exposed silicone of his thighs. “Said I had a surprise for tonight.” They lean forward to press a chaste kiss to the anxiously flaring stars along his night cheek. “Management sent me some roller skates for the diner~ Thought it might be fun to teach you how to skate… if you’d like?”

The flash of pastel pink wheels grabs Moon’s attention as he looks down at Sun’s feet. The design is the same dreamy color palette as the rest of the diner, with pastel pinks, turquoise, and white accents. They’re cute and so very Sun.

Between the warm honey of their tone and the sweet touches, all his shock melts away to a familiar flustered buzz. He lets out a huff of laughter as he bonks his forehead to theirs, a few final jolts of surprise trickling through his wires. “That’s… some surprise, Sunrise.” He lets out a wispy sigh, and leans back to look at them. “So what was your plan if I said no to learning?”

They give a small squeeze to his thighs, as they very pointedly give him a pleased look over. “Well… I could show you some tricks I’ve learned. Or–” they lower their voice to a purr, “we could spend some time up on the roof. I’d love to go stargazing, and I think I know just the ones I’d like to map out with you.”

A quick flurry of kisses pepper along his cheek to land on the glowing stars there.

Suave and oh so silly, Moon can’t help but lose himself to laughter as Sun ends each static kiss with a playful Mwah!

“Ok! Ok!” Moon gets out between wispy giggles, his eyes crack back open to look at Sun’s eager smile. His own lopsided one must be as wide as can be in return.

“You’ve got the sweetest little laugh, you know that, Moon Pie?” Even through all the teasing, Sun’s eyes soften fondly as they give him a happy squeeze.

He playfully baps at their arm to let him down. “I’ll probably be laughing when I fall face first while skating… Remind me about that again when I do.” It’s a joke, but there’s hardly any real worry to it with the way hiccups of soft laughter bubble up through his words.

Sun hums a happy little tune as they help him back to the ground, “You won’t fall, sweetie, I’ll be right here to hold you steady.” They thread their fingers with one of his hands to tug him towards the diner. “Gonna hold your hand all night, Nightlight~!”

Would Moon ever be as skilled as Sun at roller skating? Probably not. But none of that seems to matter with how wide his lopsided smile stretches at the thought of how steady and warm their hand is in his.

After all, if skating is a bust… stargazing sounded pretty good too ❤

#my writing #rest stop in the stars #drabble prompt #ask spooky #sun x moon #celestial girlfriends #celestial boyfriends #maaaaaay this was such a cute prompt!!!!#honestly i'll probably end up sketching them skating at some point #thank you for the prompt it was very sweet and fun :')

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kaiismydivineruler · 5 months

Text

Twinkies, time and tender moments with Quicksilver.

Peter being a cute dumbass, a twinkie thief and jealous of a movie character.

Song : Take on me by A-ha

a\n : This is my favorite story from the ones I wrote yet. Ahh Quicky is sooo cute. I mean just look at him.

⭐

Quicksilver zipped through the bustling city, his silver hair trailing behind him like a comet's tail. You, caught in the midst of the crowd, felt a sudden gust of wind and turned to see him standing beside you with a mischievous grin.

"Missed me?" he teased, holding out a pack of twinkies as if they were a peace offering.

You chuckled, taking the twinkie. "Always, Peter."

He raised an eyebrow. "Peter? I prefer Quicksilver when I'm saving the day."

You rolled your eyes, "Alright, Quicksilver, the hero. Is that better?"

He grinned and leaned in, his lips just inches from yours. "Much better," he whispered before stealing a quick kiss.

As you strolled through the city together, you engaged in cute banter and conversations, sharing laughs and stolen glances. Quicksilver's super speed made every moment exhilarating, and he made sure to savor each one with you.

Finding a quiet spot in the park, you sat down, and Quicksilver produced another pack of twinkies, offering one to you with a charming smile. You both indulged in the sweet treat, exchanging playful glances and enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company.

"So, how does it feel being the sidekick to the fastest guy in town?" he asked with a smirk.

You nudged him, "I'm more like the anchor keeping you grounded."

Quicksilver chuckled, "Well, you're my favorite anchor."

The sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the city. Quicksilver wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. "You know, I can slow down time just to make moments like these last forever."

You smiled, "I wouldn't mind that at all."

And as the city lights flickered to life, you shared more sweet moments with Quicksilver, enjoying the rush of his superspeed and the warmth of his affection. The twinkies might be gone, but the memories lingered, etched into the fabric of your own superhero story.

As the night sky embraced the city, Quicksilver took your hand and whisked you away on a final adventure, racing through the city lights with the wind in your hair and the thrill of being by his side. And beneath the starlit sky, surrounded by the energy of the city, you shared more kisses, each one a testament to the speed of Quicksilver's heart and the depth of your connection. The twinkling lights mirrored the sparkle in his eyes as he whispered, "To more adventures and twinkies with you, my favorite sidekick."

With that, he flashed a mischievous smile and sped off into the night, leaving you breathless and grinning, anticipating the countless adventures and twinkie-filled moments yet to come in the whirlwind romance with Quicksilver.

A few days later, Quicksilver surprised you with tickets to a late-night cinema screening of "Back to the Future." Excitement bubbled between you two as you settled into your seats, the dim glow of the screen illuminating the anticipation in Quicksilver's eyes.

As the iconic movie started, you couldn't help but sneak a few twinkies into the cinema, sharing mischievous smiles with Quicksilver as you indulged in the forbidden snack. Peter glanced around nervously, ensuring no one noticed your clandestine treat. As you both settled down on your seats, Peter pulled you into a tight hug wich was kind a uncomfortabele due to the lack of space.

As Marty McFly raced through time on the screen, you couldn't help but find him charming. You nudged Quicksilver, whispering, "He's cute, don't you think?"

Quicksilver's eyes narrowed playfully. "Cute? I'm the one with the superspeed, remember?"

You chuckled, leaning closer, "Of course, but Marty has a certain charm."

Feigning jealousy, Quicksilver teased, "Well, I hope he doesn't steal all your twinkies."

You shared a mischievous grin and continued watching, occasionally sneaking twinkies between giggles. As the movie played on, Quicksilver's mock jealousy turned into genuine laughter, and soon you both were immersed in the film, enjoying the nostalgia and the company.

After the movie, Quicksilver whisked you away for another round of twinkies, playfully stealing a few from your stash. As you walked through the city streets, the twinkling lights reflected in Quicksilver's eyes as he teased, "I never thought I'd be competing with a movie character for twinkies."

You laughed, wrapping your arm around his waist, "Don't worry, you're my favorite speedster and twinkie thief."

With a final burst of superspeed, Quicksilver stole a quick kiss, leaving you both grinning as you continued your adventures in the city that never slept.

#quicksilver #evan peters #X-men #fluff #back to the future #80s movies #80s music #Spotify

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rmorde · 9 months

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Had Gojo not learn RCT right at that moment to survive, his last thoughts would have been about Riko's safety.

I'm getting teary eyed just thinking about it.

But what if Gojo became a curse right after he passed? An extremely powerful curse like Rika hellbent on protecting Riko, Kuroi, and Geto.

It's possible right? Toji dealt the fatal blow on his head with an ordinary knife. Gojo could come back and save Riko from being shot.

It can go like this:

Gojo dies but returns instantly as a Special Grade Curse.

He was too late to protect Kuroi but he uses his powers to stop her from bleeding to death. He moved her in a secure place.

Curse!Gojo then returns the favor on Toji. He gets the drop on him and tore him apart from limb to limb with a creative casting of Blue.

Geto recognizes Curse!Gojo first. Riko does the same but only after Gojo calls out her name.

Curse!Gojo led them to Kuroi.

The gang discretely meet up with Shoko to save Kuroi.

After some deliberation in the morgue, Shoko lets them leave and promised to not say anything to anyone about their decision to let Riko live with Geto as a guard. She only asks that they try to keep themselves safe (explicitly) and to keep in touch (implicitly)

Geto does not have the heart to "eat" Gojo. So, he left him as he is. Luckily, Gojo has "special" etched into his very being. He is intelligent and somewhat communicative. Eventually, he'd be able to pass as a human. (Look if Mahito can act and look as he is in canon as a newborn, I'm sure Gojo can too.)

And so, Geto summons the Rainbow Dragon as their get away ride. He, Riko, and Kuroi flew to the sunset with Curse!Gojo floating above them.

They live happily ever after. The End.

EPILOGUE

Riko's brand new family in hiding were in the vicinity of NanaYu's mission gone wrong. They managed to help them in time. Yu survived long enough to be helped by Shoko at school. Nanami is now in on their secret.

Riko somehow found Mimiko and Nanako. She picked them up and brought them home before the villagers could cage then abuse them any further.

As for the Fushiguros, it was Kuroi who brought them in. The siblings were on the run from the Zenins. They barely avoided capture so far until they encountered Kuroi. She recognized that they were in trouble and helped immediately.

Somehow, Geto still ended up being the leader of the Star Religious Group. Apparently the cult misidentified Curse!Gojo as Tengen somehow and Geto as his priest of sorts. It's a very stressful affair for the ex-sorcerer.

As for how Curse!Gojo would look like:

He still has a humanoid shape. His face is intact too although there is a permanent red mark from his mouth to chin which made him uncanny.

His entire body is a seamless expanse of bone white skin. It's only marred by a golden swirl winking like a star on where his uniform button used to be.

He would literally have Six Eyes: a pair on his head like when he was human, one on the fatal wound on his head, a big one running across from his throat to hip, and then two more on his left thigh.

His eyes change color to match the sky. When sad, they would cry tears of blood. If upset or angry, they would turn into an endless void.

Curse!Gojo has no hair. What is on top of his head is a silver colored curse energy blazing like fire. It leaves a long trail like a comet. It can also change color depending on what abilities he has active -> Silver = Infinity only Active -> Blue = CTL only Active -> Silvery Blue = Infinity + CTL Active

He cannot speak yet due to the damage to his throat. So he compensates with body language instead.

Curse!Gojo would figure out RCT eventually.

#i just want them to be happy together #i have a satoru-riko sibs agenda and i will always try to find a way to make it possible #satoru gojo #riko amanai #suguru geto #misato kuroi

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violettduchess · 1 year

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I noticed licht doesn't have a kiss fic yet. Sorry, I know you're busy with the broken heartstrings series rn but I'm gonna trow it in anyways for when you might have time, before i forget about it [again]

hugs ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ and Love, V

A/N: Thank you for the request @viohasgoneintothewoods 💜 Licht has been requested several times before (hello Licht kiss anons!) but I wasn't sure how to fulfill it without it being a bit darker than some of the other kiss fics. But now that I have thrown myself into writing angst, this request fits right into Broken Heartstrings (and is a lot faster to write)! So here you go!

Word Count: 568

His name means “light.”

And when he holds you in his arms, you believe the warmth that fills your heart rivals any bright ray of summer sunshine. Peace and contentment flood you at the feel of his strong embrace, a fortress that would withstand anything if it meant protecting you. He is a bastion of love, a bulwark you can hold on to in the face of any turbulent storm.....but what do you do when those very arms are what is shaking? When the light you know he possesses begins to dim?

His name means “light."

But the man you love is haunted by shadows. The past has a dark grip over him, long tendrils that snake their way silently through his mind, that wrap around his heart like black, thorny vines and squeeze.

He is a paradox: delicate strength. Mighty fragility.

In the bright light of desire, when he allows that passion to overrule any other emotion, he is as powerful as Helios. But instead of driving four fiery steeds across the sky, he is blazing a trail of kisses across your body. His lips are fire, stoking the heat in your veins, bringing a sunset-colored flush to your skin. As sure as the sun burns a beaming path across the sky, so does Licht set you aflame. His mouth is sure, his hands are steady. He is a torch in the darkness, lighting the way, leading you higher and higher towards the heavens. His name escapes your lips, the sound a comet of radiant light across the night sky. He kisses you and you are a supernova on the verge of bursting. You are Sirius, the brightest star in the heavens. You are filled with the light of his love and his adoration and his fervent need and you are unstoppable.

His name means "light."

But sometimes desire and love and want are not enough to spark that glow. Sometimes the darkness wins. Sometimes his mouth is unsure. His hands unsteady. Sometimes he does not think to reach for you at all because he is afraid that he is something foul, something that will not empower you but rather taint your goodness with something less than. He shrinks into the shadows, prefers to wrap his arms around himself, storm clouds pelting him with a cold rain that screams, “You are unworthy. You do not deserve this.” It is then your turn to reach out, through the stinging gray fog and find him. To pull him into the warm circle of your embrace, to run a hand over his soft, silver hair and press kiss after loving kiss against his chilled skin. You kiss understanding against his cheek, cold and damp with tears. You kiss acceptance against his pale forehead. You kiss empathy into the curve of his jaw. And you kiss his lips, feeling the way they tremble against yours, and give him all of your love, tender and patient. Over and over your lips touch his. Over and over you tell him wordlessly how deeply you love him. Over and over and over until the tremors that wrack his scarred body cease. Until his war-torn heart finds a steady rhythm once again. Until the haunted shadow fades from his luminous eyes. Until the well of tears has run dry.

His name means “light.”

And you will always find him in the darkness.

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri licht #licht klein #kiss fic #broken heartstrings #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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jadekitty777 · 1 year

Text

Exhibition

Fair Game Week is here and-!!! I AM NOT READY.

I have maybe four completed piece out of 7, but well, we’ll see if I can manage to pull a miracle outta my butt by the end of this xD

For now, enjoy?

Prompt for Day 1: Cultural Differences

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: Clover was extremely self-conscious about his ears. So why did he have so many pairs of earrings anyways? [Takes place directly after Chapter 6 of Hunting Season]

Ao3 Link: Exhibition

With a small hiss, Clover clipped the last earring in place, the magnetic pieces snapping together with a sharp pinch. After a few seconds, the sting lessened to just a constant pressure and he stood back, getting a good gander at his work.

Seven in each ear, a mixture of some of his best silver and green pairs. The first, right at the tip, was a matching set to his emblem, thumb-sized four-leaf clovers with light-and-dark green streaked malachite stones for the leaflets. The next set just a half inch below were some simple silver horseshoes.

Another inch or so was the start of the biggest piece - the same chain wrap that he’d used to make Qrow stumble a few weeks ago. The primary earring was a silver star with an emerald center. From its furthest point the chain began, tiny, silver stars interspaced in the links, leading to the end piece, which was a simple, spiky comet trail, with a random constellation of emerald gems embedded in the piece.

Dangling in between the shooting star, right in the center of the chain, was the fifth piece: little, silver crescent moons.

To complete the look was another pair placed only a half-inch apart - a silver feather and a peridot-eyed Kingfisher.

He tilted his head to the left, then the right, making sure everything was perfectly symmetrical. Then he reached up, tugging his ears until they were high above his head, before letting go.

The chains rattled heavily as they dropped immediately, ears angling downward demurely.

Clover nodded. He was ready.

Marrow was the only one in the break room. His tail was low; short, fast wags belaying his anxiety.

Or, Clover considered bemusedly as he watched the other man toss three sugar packs in a steaming cup, he needs to lay off the coffee.

“Good evening.” He announced as he crossed the room, dropping onto the couch.

“Oh, heya boss.” Marrow greeted jovially, turning to him. Tried and failed not to look at his ears. “...Ready for tonight I’m guessing?”

He heaved a sigh in return. “As I’ll ever be.”

A pause. “You could ask the General to excuse you?”

“Marrow.” Clover said very firmly, locking eyes with his recruit, “When your commander says he needs you, then he needs you. No questions asked. Got it?”

“Yeah but-! Ugh… yeah okay don’t give me the scary dad eyes.”

He fought down a chuckle. “Good.” He understood and appreciated his comrade’s concern, truly, but one night of handling the Atlas’ Elite's contemptuous intolerance in exchange for keeping his semblance in play during the discussion was a price he was willing to pay. He owed James that much.

(He didn’t, even for a moment, let himself consider that James was perhaps using Winter, Penny and himself as talking adornments to distract the council like rooks on a chessboard).

“All I need from you and the rest of the Ops tonight is to standby while we hash out the details.” He concluded.

“Yes sir.” Marrow conceded quietly, taking a sip of his drink. His nose wrinkled immediately, but he kept drinking it as if it were too much of a crime to throw out a single lien’s worth of cheap coffee.

Taking pity on him, Clover added, “Besides, I didn’t put on my finest jewels for a bunch of ugly codgers. I did it to test a myth.”

“A myth?”

“You know,” He led in with a pleased grin, “The one about whether crows actually like shiny things or not.”

Marrow groaned. “Oh Gods, I dunno who's worse, you or the kids.”

He cackled freely, unable to help it. Sometimes the rookie made it too easy.

But just as quickly as it was there, it was gone, noticing the way Marrow tried to hide his frown behind his cup.

“Go too far?” Clover guessed.

“What? No, no it’s not that! It’s just…” He half turned one way, then the other, as if he expected the shadows to jump out at him. “Permission to speak freely? Like, really freely?”

Okay, this wasn’t going any way he expected. But he’d known the other long enough to know he always meant well, even if he wasn’t the best at expressing it properly. So Clover stuck with a reassuring tone as he encouraged, “You always have that right.”

“It’s just - well.” His tail had started to wag, fast, agitated strokes. “I know I don’t understand this lovey-dovey stuff but, this thing with you and Qrow… are you sure he’s not…” Marrow winced, the word coming out like a croak, “Fetishing you?”

Clover blinked, leaning back.

Well.

It’s not like he hadn’t considered it himself, when he’d first met Qrow. He knew enough people like the renowned huntsman - successful, famous, idolized. Types that would use their clot to get things they wanted. How easy it was to stroke a fetish like bedding an ‘exotic Faunus’ and walk away, hands clean.

But, even if he did have any misgivings, after last night…

“For me? This? Us? It’s the real deal.”

There was nothing left to doubt.

Selfish men didn’t make declarations like that.

“I know he’s…” Clover started, trying to find the right word, “Tactless, sometimes. But when you really get to know him, he’s sincere and speaks from the heart. I know I can trust him.”

Marrow eyed him a few moments more, before nodding. “If you’re sure, then I won’t doubt you. I just want it to work out for you, you know? You deserve that.”

He smiled warmly. It was nice, having someone in his court. “Thanks Marrow.”

“Anytime sir.”

If there was anything to make Clover’s night, it was the moment Qrow caught sight of him.

The lobby area of the academy had a ceiling that was quite tall, and sounds echoed freely. So, they all heard the Vale team arriving from the elevator - the kids, particularly Nora and Yang, were loud. So there they all were, streaming out from the alcove into the main room, heading to the entrance that had been set as their designated meeting spot.

In the rear, as usual, was Qrow, already drifting sideways from the group, creating an unconscious distance. His head was turned, listening to something Oscar was going on about, when Ruby’s squeal of “Penny!” and subsequent burst of rose petals as she immediately closed the distance to crash into the android in a hug had him looking up.

Dusky red eyes met his, went wide as saucers - and then he stumbled nose first into one of the support pillars.

Clover covered his mouth to strife his laughter, while Marrow’s quiet, “Oh my gods.” from his left had him almost crying with glee.

“Seeing stars there, Uncle Qrow?” He faintly heard Yang roasting.

“Shut it Firecracker,” Qrow hissed back, rubbing his nose as they made their way over.

Alright, don’t bring attention to it. Be professional. Clover cleared his throat as everyone grouped up. “Nice to see everyone tonight. General Ironwood and Specialist Schnee are still on their way down, but the limos are out front and waiting. We’ll debrief on what to expect on the way over, but for now, you can feel free to get comfortable.”

Predictably, this brought about a varying degree of excitement.

“A real limo?!” Ruby wiggled. “Oh do you think they have snacks Yang?”

“We are literally going to a party with food.” Her sister deadpanned.

Weiss sighed, pushing her leader towards the doors. “It’s not that incredible, believe me.”

“The limo or the hor d'oeuvres?” And that was Blake, almost dismissively bored.

“Both.”

As the others started to follow, Oscar paused for just a moment. “Are you coming Qrow?”

“Uh, I’ll catch up. You guys have fun.”

“I think the real one having fun’ll be-”

“Nora.” Ren stressed.

“What?! We were all thinking it.”

“No.” Jaune placed his hands together, probably praying for a mind erasure. “No I was not.”

The rest of the young hunters’ conversations melded and trickled off as they piled out the doors. Clover nodded to his own team. “You guys can go as well. I’ll wait.”

“Mhm, sure. Enjoy that Captain.” Harriet replied, her teasing painfully transparent.

Elm, thank her soul, steered the shorter girl towards the exit before her fast mouth could get her into trouble. “Come on Hare, let ‘em be.”

If any one of them said more, it was all lost behind the closing of the doors.

And then Qrow was on him, whirling around and crossing the distance faster then he could blink. “You’re killing me here Clubs.”

The laughter Clover was trying to contain burst out of him, joyful and loud. He tilted into the other’s touch as Qrow cupped his face in his hands, one index finger sweeping under the kingfisher and feather in his left ear. “Guess you like ‘em then huh?”

“Don’t be a little shit.” Qrow jabbed with no malice. “Seriously though, now I gotta think of how to one-up this.”

He placed his hands on the slim man’s waist, dragging him forward. “What are you gonna do? Come to the next debrief with no pants this time?”

“Tch, doesn’t work if you’ve already seen that.”

“They didn’t come all the way off.” He rolled his thumbs against protruding hipbones, practically purring, “I’ve bet you got some killer legs.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Qrow’s voice had dropped an octave, before he tipped his chin up, lips meeting his.

Clover shut his eyes, humming pleasantly as he pressed into it. Shivered as long fingers danced along the length of one of his ears, lightly flicking the pointed tip right above where the clover piece was.

Immediately, he felt the frown against his mouth as Qrow met a resistance that wasn’t supposed to be there. He pulled back, eyes suspicious. “These are heavy.”

“Yeah.” Clover replied, trying not to make it seem like a big deal, even as shame curled in his gut. “There’s gravity dust in the magnets. Keeps them… in place.”

A lot of other Faunus who had ears higher up on their heads, like Blake, had more practical uses for the gimmick, as with enough weight one could pin their ears down against their skull and have them disappear in their hairline. Clover just used it to mislead people.

“Clover…”

He covered Qrow’s hand, the one still against his cheek, with one of his own, murmuring guiltily, “Tonight has to go well.”

At a bit of a loss, Qrow’s eyes flicked about, between his face and the ears that told him nothing, and finally conceded with a grumbled, “James better appreciate the fuck outta you.”

Clover laughed so hard he was weezing, tension rushing out of him. “He does, you jerk.” He peppered the insult with a kiss. “But he’s not the reason I’m wearing them. It just makes things easier, is all. Most times, I’m not doing it for anyone but myself anyways.”

“Because you don’t like them?”

“More like I don’t like the attention. Or giving people more of an excuse than they already have.” It wasn’t like it took much.

Shortly after Beacon’s fall, when it became clear the White Fang was involved, Faunus Opinion was at an all time low. It became so bad, that for a while he couldn’t go one day without something headlining the evening news. More and more places had started to refuse service to Faunus. Faunus-friendly or owned establishments were coming under attack through vandalizing, stealing, and arsoning. Dissenting lobbyists began to rally, trying to use the public’s fear to push their agenda through. Layoffs and unemployment for Faunus climbed to an all time high. A child beaten into a coma by his schoolmates just for having bull horns like Adam Taurus.

Between that and the buckling secret of Salem, Clover had barely been able to keep himself on sure footing.

But, the one thing he never forgot - regardless of Robyn or Nick’s opinion - was the importance of his position. As a leader and a Faunus in power, he had a duty to his team, the citizens and his people to carry on with his head held high and his demeanor in check. To be firm in his words but gentle in his delivery. To react cordially to dissenters and not retaliatory. To appear polished and pretty but non-threatening.

He knew if he had even a half-second of weakness, just a moment where he toed too out of line in the public eye, then the news casters would drag his name through the mud so fast, the many medals he had in his name would get lost in the sludge.

So the events he did attend - if they allowed him to at all - he played his part. And he knew not to get comfortable, because with tensions rising once more after Tyrian’s slaughter, things might just be about to get a whole lot worse.

“You shouldn’t have to.” Qrow growled. “To-to do all this just… for every other fucking person.” Yet, to Clover’s surprise, instead of continuing on his rant as he’d seen him so many times before for other topics, he looked away, mumbling, “Not that I should be running my mouth when I’m not a part of it.”

Like last night, he felt his heart warm. This man was too endearing for his own good. “Hey, just because you don’t understand it all, doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear what you think.” He tilted Qrow’s chin up. “Honestly, the fact you support me means the world to me.”

An ever-so slight rosy touch came to Qrow’s cheeks that was just too adorable not to kiss. So Clover did.

He may have continued further, if not for the tell-tale ding of an arriving elevator and the familiar click-clack of Winter’s heels and the step-clank of James’ footsteps that had him pulling away.

Likewise, Qrow stepped a respectable distance back as well. It was one thing to have family or teammates teasing them - it was another situation altogether if their boss - temporary or otherwise - caught them. The one selfish thing Clover was keeping were his missions with Qrow.

“Oh, one last thing to keep in mind?” He said as they waited.

“Hm?”

He gave him a wink. “I dolled myself up with you on my mind first, Stardust.”

Luckily, Qrow had no time for a rebuttal beyond a flabbergasted grunt.

In a matter of hours, everything had gone wrong.

A dead man had turned the heat off.

The wall had further collapsed.

Grimm were all over Mantle.

Salem’s attack on Atlas had officially begun.

“This is Harriet with Ace Manta, checking in.” Harriet said into the airship’s radio. “We’re on route to downtown.”

“Copy that Ace Manta. Your way is clear.” Air control reported. “Teryxs have been spotted in airspace. Remain vigilant.”

Clover stepped between the pilot and co-pilot chairs, speaking up so he could be heard clearly. “This is Captain Clover. What is the status of the rest of the fleet?”

His left ear, free of weight, perked up as the response came, “All ships have already dispersed and deployed their soldiers to provide ground cover in critical areas. Most are now moving onto evacuation efforts, sir.”

“Good. Keep a squadron of fighter aircraft in action on the lower district and tell them to fire in the sky at will. We need to keep that line and hold it.” He replied as he unclipped the earrings on his right ear.

“Understood. May the Brothers be with you all.” Was the final blessing before the transmission cut off.

The last of the earrings, the Kingfisher, was pulled off, and his right ear joined his left in position, angled up and slightly forward. Alert. Confidant. “Alright Harriet, bring us in.” He turned to the rest of the group, nodding to the benches. “Take a seat. This ride might get rough. For the rest of us who don’t have one, Weiss and Elm, keep us steady.”

Unsurprisingly, the chairs were freely offered to the younger members first.

As everyone got settled, Qrow sidled up to him, looking stern and serious.

Despite the situation, Clover couldn’t help but give one ear a flap to catch his attention. All those weeks ago, he started doing it just to tease him; now it felt more like a greeting.

It also did the job of bringing some light to Qrow’s face, no matter how small. “Heh. Liked the gussying up Clubs, but I think I prefer ‘em like this.”

He knew he didn’t mean the jewelry.

“Lucky me.” He drawled with a grin of his own.

He pocketed his earrings away and though they felt as heavy as the looming atmosphere of battle, Clover had never felt more ready to hold it all up.

#clover ebi #qrow branwen #fair game #fairgameweek2023 #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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