#HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO REMARKABLE SHADE OF BLUE

[bunnykaye]

Happy Anniversary "Remarkable Shade of Blue" Scene | Bridgerton Season 3 Sneak Peek (released February 1, 2024)

[bookishofalder]

Catfish & Sunshine II

Read Part I ~ Catfish & Sunshine

Summary: Frankie and Sunshine are all dressed up for a special event and he can’t keep his hands to himself. Requested

Warnings: Smut, language, mentions of loss and grief, sad Santi.

Frankie reluctantly gazed at himself in the mirror that you had hung in the front hallway, giving his outfit a final once-over. He was dressed in his most formal military garb, hair combed and beard carefully trimmed, and though he felt a little ridiculous, he knew you’d be more than thrilled with his appearance.

It was rare that either of you ever had to dress up, both of your lives decidedly relaxed, free of fancy events when you were both happy to go to the bar with the guys for a night out. Hell, Frankie had tried to convince you to let him take you to the fanciest restaurant in town-Benny had been the one to tell him about it; but the moment you saw the dress code on the website you scoffed, pointed out that money could be spent in so many better ways, and then excitedly asked to go to a mom and pop Mexican restaurant that was one of Frankie’s favourites.

Tonight there was no avoiding the formal dress, the fancy hair, nor the heels. It was the second anniversary of Tom’s funeral and Molly and the girls had organized a charity event for retired veterans who needed help getting on their feet after leaving service. It meant as much to Frankie and the guys as it did to Tom’s own family. Everyone was acutely aware that if Tom hadn’t been so desperate to support his family, he would never have gone on the mission that led to his death.

When Frankie had received the invitation in the mail, he’d gone numb, not realizing he had stood frozen in the doorway for more than ten minutes until you walked through the door and bumped into him, yelling in surprise. You had taken one look at his face and knew that Frankie was on the edge and, like he knew you always would, you took charge. First leading him to the couch and getting him to take deep breaths, then taking a look at the invitation he clutched in his hand. When you realized what it was for, you told Frankie you would go with him, support him through the whole thing and then take him for ice cream after. Ice cream dates were a regular thing in his relationship with you.

“Sunshine,” He called, glancing out the living room window at the rain coming down. He heard you grunt in response, probably still trying to get your hair just right even though he thought you looked perfect with bed head. When you’d walked out of the bathroom a few hours prior, your hair was done in a fancy updo, he’d stupidly remarked that you looked great, but ready a little early. You had gaped at him for a moment before gesturing to your face aggressively, pointing out you hadn’t even started on your makeup. He’d steered clear since. “I’m going to pull the car upfront so you don’t have to walk in the rain, I’ll meet you outside the lobby!”

He heard a door open, your voice now clearly echoing down the hall, “Is that your nice way of trying to get me to hurry up, Fransisco?”

“No, no,” He assured you, trying to hold back a laugh, “Take all the time you need, Sunshine.”

When you giggled, Frankie smiled to himself and, with one last glance at the mirror, left the apartment. He was happy to appreciate the walk to the elevator now that he knew it was one of the last times he’d be doing it.

You had moved in with Frankie just a few weeks after you first got together, each of you seeing no point in you keeping your place when you were never there. Next weekend you would be moving into the bungalow you’d bought together, just a little out of town. Somewhere quiet, though the commute into your office wasn’t bad and the trip for Frankie to the nearby flight school, where he was an instructor, was minimal.

Life had been...perfect since the night you and Frankie had confessed how you felt. He was flying again, thanks to you for helping him clear his record of possession. He got to wake up every day with you wrapped in his arms (he didn’t understand how you were always cold but didn’t complain that you used him as your own personal furnace), and in a week he’d be enjoying a day with everyone he loved as they all helped you both move into the new place.

Hell, even Santi had finally come home after over a year away. Tonight would be the first time out for him since he’d been back.

And Santi, that was a surprising twist. It turned out you and he were quite the match, platonically. When he’d first settled back in just a few months prior, you had ensured Frankie spent time with him and helped Santi through his guilt and grief, to feel at home again. You made Santi feel safe, feel welcome even when he showed up late at night in need of his friend. ‘The door is always open for you, Pope’ you’d said, turning away and missing the emotion on his face, though Frankie had seen.

Tonight, you had agreed to be Santi’s date as well as Frankie’s, to help the struggling man get through tonight’s event. As insistent that Molly had been that they were all welcome, he harboured the greatest guilt and regret for Tom’s death and it was a struggle to convince him he needed to be there, that he was wanted.

Frankie wasted no time pulling the car outside of the building lobby, then climbed out to wait for you. He leaned back against the passenger side door, arms crossed and eyes gazing at the ground, lost in thought. He pulled out his phone after a moment and quickly sent a text off to Santi, letting him know they’d meet him out front at the agreed time, sighing with relief when his friend sent a thumbs-up back.

“Pope not flaking out on us at the last minute?”

Frankie glanced up at the sound of your voice, his mouth opening to respond when he caught sight of you and instead he was merely gaping in surprise, an unintelligible noise rushing out of him. There was no other way to describe it, you were absolutely breathtaking.

He’d seen your dress hanging on the back of the bathroom door earlier that day, knew that the shade of blue would complement your skin perfectly. But...fuck, it hugged you in all the right places, showed off the curves he loved to kiss every day, the swell of your chest perfectly outlined in the tighter-fitting top portion, your legs accentuated by the full skirt and simple, dainty heels. And your make-up was fucking flawless. You didn’t need it, barely wore much most days, but you knew how to do it and told him it was something you had fun doing. This was the first time he’d been witness to the full slate of your abilities, the colours on your eyelids bringing out the brightness of your eyes, your lips plump and full and deliciously red.

After a moment of gawking at you, Frankie realized that you were staring at him in equal surprise, your eyes drinking in every inch of his body. You spoke first, looking away from Frankie and glancing around as you swallowed heavily. “Sorry, sir, thought you were someone else.” You giggled, pretending to look around for Frankie.

“Fuck, Sunshine,” Frankie breathed, standing up straight and feeling suddenly very warm, his eyes unable to stop moving from your chest, down your legs, back up, then down. You gave him a shy look as you descended the steps and came to a stop in front of him, “You look perfect. And your makeup,” He pointed to your eyelids, which looked like works of art in their own right and he wondered how the hell you even managed to do it, “So fucking pretty.”

“Thank you,” You beamed up at him proudly, then dropped your gaze again to look over him in uniform, “I’ve only seen you in pictures dressed like this. I think...You may look too good, Frankie. I’ll be fighting off ladies all night.”

Frankie barked out a laugh, pulling you carefully against him so as not to ruffle either of your outfits, though his semi-hard cock was begging him to just take you back upstairs and bend you over the couch. “Good thing Santi will be there, Cariño, you can just send them his way.” He leaned down to kiss you but paused, remembering your makeup, and instead pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

It surprised Frankie when he felt your whole body shudder in response, a little sigh escaping you. He paused, meeting your eyes curiously and then nearly coming undone right there when he saw the turned-on expression he knew all too well burning across your features.

“Mierda,” You murmured, and Frankie felt both proud of how your Spanish was coming along-you’d been taking lessons-and aroused by your evident desire for him. With a pained groan, he stepped back from you and turned to open the passenger door, holding out a hand for you.

You took hold straight away, allowing Frankie to help you into the car and carefully ensure your skirt was in before he slammed the door shut. Walking around to the driver's seat with a semi in his tightly fitted dress pants wasn’t exactly comfortable, especially knowing he had an entire evening ahead of resisting you and your perfect fucking curves. He considered closing the door on his fingers just to help clear his head.

“You uh, ready?” His voice came out husky and he didn’t miss the way it made your legs clench together. Frankie glanced at his watch, his cock twitching in excitement when he realized you were ahead of schedule. He had a couple of minutes. Without waiting for your response, he pulled the car forward and into the darkened parking lot, rain spattering down and filling the otherwise quiet cab with its soothing sounds. “Sunshine?” He huffed as he pulled over at the edge of the lot.

“Frankie, what are you-?” You broke off when you caught his expression, your eyebrows shooting up first in surprise before you gave him a comically horrified look. “Oh Frankie we can’t, we’re all dressed up!”

He laughed, “Relax, Cariño,” Leaning toward you, Frankie reached down and brushed his hand along your lower leg, humming at the softness of your skin, before moving upwards, pushing under your skirt. He moved more quickly than he normally liked to, but time was a big factor here because he didn’t want Santi waiting outside alone for you to arrive. But he couldn’t resist touching you, his voice coming out in a near whisper, “Relax, sweet girl,” You did as he asked immediately, your legs parting and back easing into your seat.

Frankie grunted when he traced up the top of your thigh and found nothing but bare skin, his hand running across your mound in surprise. He looked down at you and found you watching him with a glint in your eye, biting your lip.

“Thought I might get through a bit more of the evening before you noticed.” You admitted, though your mouth snapped shut the moment he took advantage of your panty-free pussy, easily sliding two fingers inside of you.

You let out a filthy moan, hands curling into fists at your side, and swore when Frankie quickly picked up the pace and began fucking you with his fingers. “Always so wet for me, Sunshine,” He whispered in your ear, holding himself back from kissing your pretty face. He could already feel you tensing, only a few more minutes away from your orgasm, “Dirty little thing, aren’t you? No panties on, you like being ready to be fucked anywhere, don’t you?”

“Fuck, Frankie, y-yeah,” You gasped, your hips bucking slightly, “Want-wanted to surprise you a-after, instead of ice cream,” Frankie growled at your admission, beginning to curl his thrusting fingers just how he knew you loved it. You whimpered and panted for him and the possessive, more animalistic part of him fucking loved watching the way you came undone so quickly for him. It only took another minute for you to come for him.

“Cum Cariño, cum for me you perfect little thing, I want you wet and hot and bothered the rest of the night, fuck,” He groaned when you clamped down on his fingers and let out a cry as your orgasm wrecked you, hips thrashing around. “That’s it, good girl, good fucking girl.” He praised you, slowing his movements until the last remnants of your high rolled over you and you sagged back into the seat.

“F-Frankie, Jesus,” You finally breathed, looking over at him as he withdrew his fingers and placed them in his mouth. You whimpered when he groaned at the taste of you, always so sweet and almost peachy. His free hand palmed his erection, which didn’t go unnoticed. “Fuck, do we even have time-?”

“No,” Frankie admitted, somewhat heavily although he was a little excited at the prospect of the evening being coloured with your need for one another. “We actually really need to go, Santi will be waiting.”

Shakily, you pulled your seat belt on and then reached into the centre console for a tissue. Frankie had to look away as you hooked an arm under your skirt to carefully wipe up your essence, both to calm his roaring blood and in disappointment that he couldn’t lick every last drop up himself like he usually did.

The drive to the banquet hall was quiet, each of you focusing on the rainy town and determinedly not looking at one another. When Frankie pulled up to the valet station, grateful they’d erected a fancy tent for guests, he sought out Santi. You spotted him first, excitedly pointing from your seat and Frankie finally spared you a glance, happy to see your makeup remained smudge-free, though your cheeks were rather red. He smirked.

“Thank you,” He nodded to the attendant as he stepped out of the car, hurrying around to help you out. Blocking you from the view of everyone nearby, Frankie gave you a once over, “You look perfect, Sunshine.”

Grinning, you made a show of checking him out, “Not so bad yourself, handsome.”

Frankie took your hand with a laugh and you both moved forward, eyes landing on Santi a few feet away, his back to you both. The set of his shoulders was telling and Frankie exchanged a worried glance with you before he turned around and spotted you both. He grinned, relief washing his features of the heavy frown, his eyes brightening when you each shot him friendly smiles.

“Hey, Hermano. Wow, I can’t believe that still fits you!” Santi declared, first clapping Frankie on the shoulder before flicking his sleeve.

“I had to sew him in,” You deadpanned, winking up at Frankie. Santi barked out a laugh in response before allowing you to sweep him in a careful hug, mindful of your outfits. “Great to see you, Pope, you look good.”

Frankie swelled with admiration for you; you were so kind, so good at diffusing tension and anxiety just by the way you carried yourself, the easy way you tossed out simple compliments and jokes. He knew it was partly due to your work, you’d had more than one veteran crumble in front of you during appointments, their trauma coming out in the safe space of your treatment room as you tried to make them feel better physically. But Frankie, and the guys, all recognized you had a rare quality about you; a bottomless tank of empathy, understanding, of the drive to care for others. One conversation with the beaten and broken Santi and you made it your mission to aid Frankie in helping his best friend, his brother, as he waded through the same deep shit Frankie and the Miller brothers had needed to after the failure of a mission.

“Querida, you make Fish look ten times better you look so pretty,” Frankie rolled his eyes at Santi’s jibe. His friend grinned mischievously, “Benny and Ironhead are inside already, said we’re all at the same table.” He gestured toward the ornate doors leading into the banquet hall lobby.

Frankie smiled when you reached down and threaded your fingers through his own, squeezing before you raised your other arm expectantly at Santi, who dutifully stepped next to you and offered his arm. Though his friend's brows were slightly pinched in apprehension, Frankie could see he was much calmer than he had been a few minutes prior. Frankie flashed you a grateful look as you steered them inside.

The event had a guest list of three hundred, though the room was it was being held in was so large it didn’t feel overly packed, for which Frankie felt relief. He wasn’t big on any of this, but feeling like a packed sardine would have intensified his discomfort tenfold.

Despite being the shortest of the three, you confidently led Frankie and Santi into the ballroom and around the edge with enough purpose that he realized you must have called ahead to find out where their table was. Your level of preparation was stunning, beyond appreciated.

Frankie was going to make this all up to you later.

“Pope! Fish! Sunny!” Benny roared excitedly from where he stood at the table, which Frankie realized was right next to the Davis families. He flushed at the idea that they weren’t being cast aside, put in a spare table in the corner, but rather gathered right by the family. He glanced at Santi, watching as his friend realized this kind gesture and swallowed thickly in response. Benny, meanwhile, rushed forward with his eyes on you, no doubt about to pull you into a bone-crushing hug.

Santi stepped in front of you and blocked Benny, pulling the clueless blonde into his arms instead, “Hey stupid, you’re gonna mess up Sunny’s outfit!” He laughed, and Benny shot Frankie and you a rueful grin over Santi’s shoulder as you both laughed.

Gentle hugs were then exchanged between the group before Will introduced his date formally, though they all knew the bar owner well enough. Tough and quick-witted, Frankie had always liked Kenzie and had been thrilled when Will finally garnered the courage to ask her out a few months ago. You and Frankie went on double dates with them all the time.

Giving Frankie a gentle hand squeeze, you pulled away and eagerly fell into conversation with Kenzie on the opposite side of the table. Kenzie was almost as tall as Frankie and he found it amusing how much shorter you stood next to the tall blond, even with your heels on.

“Seriously, Fish, she’s something else,” Santi confessed, pulling his attention from you. His friend looked deeply grateful, eyes sharply focused on Frankie, “I can’t thank you both enough for everything since...since I’ve been back. Sunny feels like the little sister I never had.”

Frankie nodded, “She has a way of affecting people more than she knows. And she really cares about you. We both do, Hermano.”

“We all do, you mean,” Benny interjected, clapping both of them on the shoulders as Will rolled his eyes next to his brother. “Now Santi and I need to find gals as great as you two have got, eh Pope?”

Santi snickered, “Either of your ladies have any single friends looking for trouble?”

At this, they all joined in as Santi laughed, and for a moment it felt a little like old times. Those days when they had to attend a stuffy event in uniform; Tom’s absence was felt by all of them now. They took their seats, Frankie between you and Santi, Kenzie on your other side. You kept your conversation going with her but adjusted yourself in your seat so that your back was no longer to Frankie. Almost unconsciously, you reached over and took his hand in yours.

Smiling to himself, Frankie took a sip of the water already poured for everyone from the ice-cold decanter by Benny. A short time later, the event MC, a family friend of the Davis’, took up the podium on the little stage nearby and called a start to the event. They ran through a thoughtful speech about Tom, who he was, why this charity would have meant so much to him, and then called upon Tom’s ex-wife, Molly, to say a few words before dinner would be served.

Frankie felt Santi tense next to him as Molly stood at the podium and adjusted the microphone. From where the three of you were seated, you were watching her speak over Benny and Will’s heads, their backs to you. As if sensing the turmoil, you scooted your seat silently closer to Frankie, who met your soft gaze and felt himself relax at the calming expression you held. He let you pull your hand from his so that you could tap Santi’s arm. He looked around and nodded gratefully when you held your hand for him to take. That was how Frankie ended up with both of your hands in his lap, an arm slung around your shoulders and his free hand laid over both of yours almost protectively.

Molly’s speech was filled with memories, moments of Tom’s life that had tears pricking at the corners of Frankie’s eyes. His excitement of becoming a father, his dedication to helping the kids with homework even though it ended up with him pulling his hair out in frustration. When she spoke of his service, Frankie assumed that she would gloss over the highlights, but Molly took him-took the whole group, really by surprise when she pointed at their table and began to affectionately convey the friendship and brotherhood Tom held with the four men at table two. She regaled everyone with a couple of short stories Tom must have told her, each of them bringing sad smiles to the group's faces as they remembered their stubborn leader and the shit they’d all been through together.

When Molly brought up the trip that resulted in Tom’s death, she told everyone the truth that she knew; that Tom had taken a recon job to provide for his family. And that there was always a risk to that kind of work, which was something Tom knew and understood when he said yes to going.

“The truth is, Tom made his own decision about how to take care of his family. I know that he would have made a calculated decision at every point on that trip, and as much as we wish he was still with us, we know that he was there for us. There’s no one to blame for that, no one who should carry Tom’s choices on their shoulders.” And Molly glanced, very pointedly and briefly, toward Santi.

Santi’s shoulders trembled with the sobs he held in, tears splashing down his face as he nodded once in understanding at Molly. Frankie tightened his hand over Santi’s before looking to you, expecting your expression to be filled with equal emotion and surprise.

Instead, Frankie found you gazing softly at Molly with a satisfied, expectant little smile. And he realized then that you hadn’t just called ahead to find out their table number. At some point, you had contacted Molly directly-hell, you might have even sought her out in person, and you must have told her how much Santi, Frankie and the Miller’s were suffering. How she was the only one who could alleviate any of that guilt and pain and regret. Frankie’s suspicions were confirmed when Molly, now closing off her speech, tossed you a small smile of understanding.

Frankie could have dropped to his knee right there and asked you to marry him. The lengths to which you strode to care for not only him but for the men he considered brothers, wasn’t something he could lightly say thank you for. You repeatedly went out of your way for Frankie, taking on emotional baggage he could only begin to imagine, all without even telling him about it and asking for a thank you.

He struggled through dinner, to focus, to have a proper conversation, his hand often falling to your thigh and squeezing. He wanted-no, needed-to get you alone and show you just how much he fucking loved you. But the dinner dragged on, the food delicious, or so you kept declaring as Frankie could hardly taste it at this point. There were a few more speeches about the charity made throughout dinner, and after dessert, there would be a cocktail hour for people to linger, meet charity board members and socialize.

The moment you bit into your cheesecake, Frankie was about ready to burst, considering throwing you over his shoulder and making a run for it. Santi nudged his shoulder, “You alright, Fish?” He murmured, his voice not carrying as Kenzie and you discussed some renovation ideas the bar owner had in mind.

“Yeah, Hermano,” He ran a hand over his face. Santi gave him a searching look, his brows pulling together. “What?”

“You uh,” Santi paused, checking to make sure you were still distracted, “There’s a little meeting room, down the hall from on the left. They book it during the weekdays, but I bet right now it’s empty.”

Frankie gazed at Santi, confused, “R-right...” He replied slowly, watching his friend's expression turn mischievous.

“So, maybe you slip out for a few with Sunny,” He explained, shrugging and wiggling his brows suggestively. Frankie gulped, shaking his head. “Come on, you’ve both been here for me tonight enough. I can tell you have something on your mind, Fish, I’ll be fine while you two...” He trailed off when you turned in your seat, refocusing on them.

“Why do you both look like you’re up to no good?” You joked, unknowingly hitting the mark and they both glanced guiltily at one another. You observed their reactions, your brow quirking, “Okay, what’s up?”

“Nothing, Cariño,” Frankie replied smoothly, tossing his napkin on the table. He pitched his voice lower, “Can we step out for some air?” You nodded, your eyes flicking to Santi, who covered his smirk by taking a drink of wine, then back to Frankie.

Excusing yourselves from the table, Frankie took hold of your hand and led you out of the ballroom. When he didn’t stop once outside the doors in the quiet hallway, you picked up your speed to match his, “Where are we going?”

“Just down here, quiet spot,” He answered, his pulse increasing the closer he got to the room in question. Right away Frankie could see that Santi was correct, not only was the room where he said, but it was dark, the door halfway open. Sneaking a glance to make sure no one saw you both, he ushered you hurriedly inside.

You took a few steps into the darkroom, spinning around as Frankie hit the lock and did a quick survey of the space. Aside from the glow from the red fire exit sign, the room was still and empty. Santi had said the room was used for meetings, but apparently, on weekends it ended up as backup storage space because there was an assortment of black leather furniture in place of any tables or chairs.

“Are you alright, Frankie-Oomph!”

Frankie had grabbed your arm and jerked you toward him, hurriedly backing you into the wall before slamming his lips to yours desperately. When his body pressed you against the wall, you moaned in delight and parted your lips, allowing him to taste you. He was in a frenzy at this point, needy and hard already; it took him a minute to undo the fastens and buttons on his dress pants, his lips never leaving yours.

“Fucking hell, Sunshine,” He gasped, finally pulling his hard length free, his pants pushed down around his thighs, “Look at what you do to me, can’t keep my head on straight. I fucking love you.” Aside from kissing him back, you hadn’t moved since being thrust against the wall, the overall surprise of private, passionate Frankie pulling you into a random room rendering you speechless in the best kind of way. When he spoke your eyes dropped to where his hand fisted over his cock and widened in pure desire.

“W-what’s gotten into you?” You whimpered out as Frankie released his length, crouched down and grabbed the backs of your thighs, lifting. He held you against the wall with one hand and used the other to frantically push aside the extra material of your skirt. “Not complaining here, but I just-oh, fuck!” Your hands grasped his shoulders hurriedly to keep yourself steady.

Frankie surged his hips forward the moment he revealed your bare pussy, knowing you would still be wet from your earlier orgasm. He let out a satisfied grunt when he pinned you to the wall with his cock, his lust intensifying when your legs wrapped around him and you let out a weak, desperate little moan. He set an almost brutal pace then, his eyes drinking in every blissed-out expression that crossed your face, watching for any signs of discomfort.

But you only grew wetter at his rough handling of you, the spontaneous, almost dangerous situation seemingly working to increase your arousal. He had to clap a hand over your mouth when you started moaning and crying out, “Shh, sweet girl, don’t want anyone coming in here and seeing how weak you get for my cock, do we?” He growled when you clenched around him at his words, then continued. “F-fuck, so tight. Do you...have any idea how amazing you are? Th-think I wouldn’t realize how much you did for us, that you spoke t-to Molly.” His hips were moving at the perfect pace, drawing the best moans from you that he quieted with his hand.

You looked at him with heavy-lidded, lust-blown eyes, your brows raising in surprise at his admission. He felt your mouth move against his hand and lifted it to let you speak, “Y-you knew?” You gasped out in a soft voice.

“Not till tonight,” He clarified, punctuating his statement with an extra hard thrust. You whimpered, eyes rolling despite your determination to continue the conversation. The sight of you entirely cock drunk was making Frankie feral.

“I-I did it for you, all for you,” You sighed, eyes closing, “Oh Frankie, I love your cock baby.”

Frankie put his hand back over your mouth and tilted his hips, knowing exactly how to draw out the loudest screams.

“Cum for me, Sunshine. Soak my cock, then take my cum. You can walk around the rest of the night with those pretty thighs clenched, hold it all in until I can stuff you with more at home,” Frankie’s face was right next to yours, his thrusts almost sloppy but he could feel how close you were and knew you’d topple over the edge together. “Fuck, marry me, marry me, I love you so much and I want to marry you, ah shit!”

You came, clenching hard around him as your body jerked in spasms of pleasure, your scream so loud his hand barely contained it, and then Frankie slammed as deep into you as he could and came, his cock soaking your insides with his spend. He dropped his head into the crook of your neck and muffled his yells there, holding you both still as the waves ebbed.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” You gasped out, your body quivering in Frankie’s arms. He lowered you both down to the floor somewhat shakily, his hand shooting under your dress to capture any cum that spilled out of you from the motion. You all but collapsed against the wall, your eyes squeezed shut as you worked to catch your breath.

Frankie reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a pack of travel tissues, carefully wiping you and his hand up to avoid any spills onto your dress. Though, his cock did twitch at the idea of you walking back into the ballroom with his cum dribbling down your legs. “You okay, Cariño? Still with me?”

“Yes,” You replied, your eyes opening slowly to meet his gaze. A goofy grin appeared, your eyes blinking in slow motion as you settled from what had been the most frenzied fuck of your relationship. Frankie chuckled warmly, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Yes, Frankie.” You repeated when he pulled back.

Frankie grinned, “I heard you the first time.” He joked, tossing the used tissues into a nearby wastebasket.

“No, Frankie, I mean yes.”

Frankie stilled, glancing down at you in confusion-had he gone too hard? Was he going to have to sneak you out to the car because he’d fucked you silly? But then Frankie saw your expression, no longer dazed and blissed out, but now the most intense look he’d ever seen, so fierce he almost flinched. Realization slammed into him like a freight train.

“What do you...are you saying?” Frankie babbled, shaking his head once to focus, “Sunshine, are you saying yes to-“

“Yes, Fransisco Morales, I will marry you.”

His mouth dropped open in shock, your words reverberating around in his now empty head. You just said yes to marrying him. You said yes. Holy shit, you said yes.

“I-are you serious? You really want to marry me?”

You laughed, pulling Frankie into your arms and peppering his face with kisses, “Yes, si, absolutely, affirmative. I want to marry you, Frankie, I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

Frankie’s heart was about to shoot out of his chest, “But I didn’t ask you right...I-I fucked it up, I have a ring at home, I was going to-“

You shushed him with a kiss, “This was perfect. You did not fuck it up-you did kind of fuck me up, but the proposal was perfect, Frankie.”

“Probably not something we can tell the kids about one day though.” He replied, grinning when you burst into fits of giggles. He couldn’t help but touch you then, his hands trailing your arms, the sides of your face, down the curve of your neck, “Seriously, though, Sunshine-need you to know how much I love you. You mean everything to me, you are everything. I-I know this might be fast, but I’ve loved you for over two years and nothing feels more right than the idea of you and I getting married.”

You beamed up at Frankie, “Kinda worried about getting all dressed up for the wedding-seeing as you can’t seem to control yourself when I’m fancied up,” Frankie barked with laughter, happiness filling him from head to toe. “But seriously, Frankie, I love you too. Ring or not, fancy proposal or proposing while railing me into the wall, it’s always going to be yes.”

“Come here,” He murmured, pulling you close and pressing his lips to yours gently. “Thank you, for everything. For tonight, for these past few years, for saying yes.” He sighed happily, hugging you close in the darkened room as you each worked to catch your breath.

He felt you shift your head to speak, but before you could there was a loud banging on the door that startled you both. Frankie instantly tugged you closer, though he felt your hands slip between your bodies and pull his dress pants back around him properly. Thankfully, the door didn’t open, however-

“Hey, when you two are done fucking we’re going for drinks!” Benny called, his voice laced with laughter.

Santi’s voice joined in a moment later, “Christ, Benny, I told you to leave them alone-I told him not to look for you!” And then the sounds of a scuffle could be heard and you started giggling as Frankie struggled to do his pants up and get to the door, cursing when he nearly tripped.

When Frankie ripped open the door, his two friends immediately stopped play fighting and turned to grin at him knowingly, mouths opening to tease and promptly snapping shut when you appeared at Frankie’s side, carefully smoothing down your dress as you smirked at them.

“Boys, you realize you’re buying now, right?”

Did you enjoy this? Consider leaving a comment or reblogging to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Thank you 🤍

[dansnaturepictures]

20th March 2021-House Sparrows on World Sparrow Day and Tawny Owl, Leaser Spotted Woodpecker and much more on a phenomenal walk of birds and mammals

On World Sparrow day today I enjoyed seeing some of our House Sparrows that visit the garden one of which is shown in the first picture in this photoset. This sparrow day is a brilliant initiative to raise awareness particularly for House Sparrows and their plight so I was happy to be part of it. It also gave me a great chance to reflect on the times I have had with these iconic and quintessentially British species which are so precious. I have always had sparrows in my life in my time as a birdwatcher and I love both house and Tree Sparrow because of their interesting colour shades and pleasant feather formations and patterns. They are also adorable and pretty birds of great personality and presence. As one of the country’s key garden birds, the perennial chart topper of the RSPB’s Big Garden Birdwatch, it’s so amazing to have them in the garden and especially for me very precious because we went around three years without having any come into the garden after getting some in the initial stages of living at this current house and I did miss them in those years. But in the last three years or so it has been fantastic to see them come back on mass coming in with the Starlings to feed and exist year round and also bring in chicks which I particularly enjoyed in the last year whilst working from home. I am now always so impressed and feel so lucky to be able to see these key urban birds at and around home.

We had our exercise walk this afternoon I took the second and ninth picture in this photoset on it and one bird I had started to have on my mind in recent days mostly due to the anniversary of when I last saw it three years ago on Thursday was a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker one of my favourites and one of my original birds I dreamt of seeing alongside Tawny Owl, Black Guillemot and Little Auk it’s only the latter I have still not yet seen with another bird the Ptarmigan now on the dream list and Golden Eagle and Arctic Tern being added to it then seen by us. I just had a weird sense that there might be some magic in the woods of this walk to allow us to see a lesser today like I felt when I last saw one four years ago the other day, after seeing the bird three years after one of my most glorious ever birding moments seeing our first.

And like that memorable and personally historic day in April 2014 today’s walk started really well for seeing lots of high calibre wildlife. Firstly a Robin gently singing away in a tree, then amazingly two Woodlarks on the ground a second cracking view of more than one in a week which was stunning. Even more striking that I had only seen this bird twice prior to 2021 but I have now seen them on three occasions this year. Remarkable. As we walked on again just like on Tuesday’s walk we were happy to see some Fallow Deers as seven ran out in front of us which was a fantastic prolonged view. I took the third picture in this photoset of some of them bounding along. 

We then walked into a woodland area and would have some of our greatest ever few birdwatching moments. Firstly a brown bird darted right in front of us and time stood still as I tried to compute what it was. Firstly it looked Kestrel which would be unusual in woods but as it just flew into my sharp focus it was undoubtedly an owl! Then myself and my Mum almost exclaimed the species name at once, it was a Tawny Owl we could now very clearly see. This felt incredible to see, I could not believe my eyes and I was over the moon. We saw it fly into a tree and sit on a branch for a little as we were on cloud nine watching it through binoculars, before it flew deep into the woods. This is a candidate for bird of the year already, it was epic. A bird I had dreamed about seeing before, and I finally saw them in 2014 and 2015 one bird in the same spot. But since after amazingly seeing most of the other British owl species every year all coming back into my life a lot and I’ve taken them to my heart I have waited and longed to see a tawny again and I had done it. I still can’t believe it now almost. But this was something so special and a really collector’s item because it was not just a wild Tawny Owl out in the day time like my previous two sightings of one very snug in a tree, but one flying in the day time and that is such once in a blue moon stuff. This sighting really did feel like a goal re-achieved a little and made me very happy. 

As we walked on we saw the brilliant Stock Dove in the fourth picture in this photoset, a beautiful bird to see as always one of my B list favourite birds the Tawny is another of my favourites. I had thought having seen the tawny when I felt like we’d see the lesser I had gone for the wrong dream bird! But I said to my Mum in this area we still need to keep our eyes peeled because I knew having had it happen today and always that extraordinary moments can happen so we could see the lesser too something I said in euphoria and in a completely dream like and quite jocular way. There were also comments about what exactly could displace tawny as our bird of the day a thing we do a bit of a parody to man/woman of the match in football I do it for butterflies, mammals and others sometimes too. 

Dreams came true again as we walked on in the woods, when my Mum spotted a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker! We both saw this as well and got our most prolonged view and one of our greatest views ever of this stunning species. I really was in my element to see it dance between and climb the high branches. I really got to make out that distinctive black and white striped back which still makes me shudder when thinking of the bird and everything those first two sightings became for me as some of the best times in my life and in birdwatching as well as its face and other features. Lesser Spotted Woodpecker sightings like Tawny Owl don’t come around often for us so I just savoured this happy moment so much. I took the fifth and sixth pictures in this photoset, record shots of this unforgettable bird. 

We just could not believe we’d seen both Tawny Owl and Lesser Spotted Woodpecker in one day, two more favourite bird year ticks in 2021 my best ever start for seeing favourite birds of mine with 16 of the 31 now seen this year. I think with these two being the more attainable two of my dream birds, especially once we saw them both for the first time just months apart in 2014 there has been a personal fable for me about seeing them both on the same day. I used to write every bird I saw on birdwatching trips in a note book in a very similar list format to my wildlife sightings summaries when young and on the last page I’d write the names of these two species together and Black Guillemot and Little Auk in a fanciful way of thinking I would have this utopian day where we’d see them all on a day. When we first saw Tawny Owl we were at a location known for Lesser Spotted Woodpeckers in the woods too and we heard drumming that day but didn’t investigate enough. So it became a joke that year that we were so focused on the owl in the tree that the woodpecker could have flown behind our heads without us noticing I even drew a (poor) picture of this scene on my Mum’s Mother’s Day card that year and then felt quite pleased with myself when we went on to see the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker. I guess today was to an extent that utopian day. It was interesting that a birdwatching/wildlife figure from my childhood who I do still see now occasionally who was influential in our birdwatching early on once said when we mentioned these were our goals that these were species that could be seen in the same day in Hampshire in a particular scenario and I was only thinking of him yesterday and earlier today when recalling a chance meeting with him on a work lunch break walk last year. So it just felt there was something meant to be about today’s lesser and tawny double. And wherever Lesser Spotted Woodpecker is concerned I have always seemed to be able to predict things! Its just a feeling, I seem to know when it may or may not happen. 

I took the seventh picture in this photoset of some nice fungi which we saw a lot of on trees as we walked on. It then beggared belief the sheer amount of additional also top quality birds or notable bird moments we went on to see and have! Firstly we saw two Treecreepers at once sliding delightfully up trees. Then we looked at the top of tree where there was a finch and saw it was the beautiful, bright and epic Hawfinch which I took the record shot in the eighth picture in this photoset of. Another member of my notable species seen again club this year which is amazing. We then heard a Raven bark loudly in the distance always a great sound. Then we also saw a fairly large group of Lapwings. We watched and listened to them for a few minutes as they went about a glorious display, I believe either a courtship or territorial one as they flew around and made their iconic “peewit” call. They flew in spectacular movements and as they did their wings made this most glorious of sounds adding to the amazing sounds I heard today, it was like a drum. It was so sensational and seeing and hearing a common species in a beautiful way perhaps different to anything I had ever really experienced with them before would have been a standout wildlife moment on any normal day itself but today it added so brilliantly to one of my best ever walks and times watching wildlife. 

Walking on I just thought there was a third year tick after Tawny Owl and Lesser Spotted Woodpecker in it I hadn’t got three year ticks in a day since 6th January, and I thought maybe it would be something more regular. Stonechats excited me then further up doing good impressions of Skylarks for flight and sound in places a bird I need to see this year. Canada Goose and Mallard added variety to the day. Just before the end of the walk I got my third year tick, fittingly for sparrow day a bird my Mum proclaimed was a sparrow with a black head when confirming the sightings with a hide with a guide at Titchfield Haven way back in our early birdwatching days, my Mum spotted a pair of Reed Buntings which I saw. This is one that perhaps because of the lockdown and other factors alluded me up until this point so this was real icing on the cake and yet another aspect of the walk I predicted you could say. Great views of smartly marked birds. 

My bird year list continued its revival of late, with a quite staggering at this time but especially with what and where they were seven year ticks in the space of a week. My year list sits nicely as the sixth highest any of mine had ever been on this date on 115 ahead of how many I had seen at this stage in 2014 and 2015 by a decent way now 2014 did grow a little bit in days to come though. 

I also took the eight picture in this photoset of some differently coloured daffodils in the collection of them in the garden which I have loved watching. This brought to an end simply breathtaking, fun, monumental, joyous and special occasion on our walk today. Walks and days like these are once in a blue moon it feels like a moment I will be taking about for years to come. Today nature made me so happy again which I needed. I hope you all had a good day or as good as it can be.  Wildlife Sightings Summary: My first of two of my favourite birds the Tawny Owl and Lesser Spotted Woodpecker this year, my first Reed Bunting of the year, one of my favourite mammals the Fallow Deer, Treecreeper, Hawfinch, Goldfinch, Chaffinch, Blue Tit, Long-tailed Tit, Robin, Goldcrest, Woodlark, Stonechat, Meadow Pipit, Mistle Thrush, Blackbird, Woodpigeon, Stock Dove, Lapwing, Mallard, Canada Goose, Grey Squirrel, midges and I heard a Raven, Wren, Great Tit and other woodpeckers.

[kazuharem]

“Promises of Forever” ↠ Lucien x MC [SMUT]

AO3 Link: here 

Pairing: Lucien x Female MC

Part I of the “Forgive and Forget” Series. This is “Forgive”

Part II: here

Warnings: Contains plots from chapter 13 and 16 -> basically the plot of Lucien’s Rainy Night Date

Description: Lucien’s POV from “Rainy Night Date” + lovemaking

Word Count: 10,660 (oops)

Genre: Angst, Smut

Summary: “When the daylight comes, I'll have to go. But tonight I'm gonna hold you so close"

Author’s Note: I started playing this game back in March, missed out on this karma, and is very bitter/frustrated by that fact. I don’t think I’ve ever fallen so hard for a 2D man, but here I am. I wrote this fic because there weren’t enough discussion about this date, which I think showcases Lucien’s true feelings. Especially when he gives the paper crane back to the MC. My horny ass just decided to throw some lovemaking into this scene. Ending is inspired by the lyrics of Maroon 5′s “Daylight.” Every line that I took from the actual date/plot will have * in front of it. I hope you guys enjoy it. ALSO LUCIEN DESERVES ALL THE HAPPINESS IN THE WORLD. I SAID MY PIECE. 

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Here I am staring at your perfection In my arms, so beautiful The sky is getting bright, the stars are burning out Somebody slow it down This is way too hard 'Cause I know, when the sun comes up I will leave, this is my last glance That will soon be memory

And when the daylight comes I'll have to go But tonight I'm gonna hold you so close 'Cause in the daylight we'll be on our own But tonight I need to hold you so close Ooh whoa, ooh whoa, ooh whoa Ooh whoa, ooh whoa, ooh whoa

I never wanted to stop Because I don't wanna start all over, start all over I was afraid of the dark But now it's all that I want, all that I want, all that I want

How did it come to this, Lucien asked himself as he pressed himself to the side of her building, watching as reporters rushed at her, like piranhas after the scent of blood.

*“Producer! What’s your answer on your program’s ex-consultant’s remarks at the press conference?” One shoved a mic into her face. Lucien winced, but held himself back from going to her rescue. His appearance would only make the situation worse.

*“We heard that you and Professor Lucien are not only co-workers, but also neighbors. Anything to share about him?” Another reporter jogged next to her.

“Yeah, aren’t you two neighbors? So you must be close!” The crowd clamored around her, and Lucien clenched his fists.

*“We heard that you two are inseparable. Could you please…” The reporter’s voice asked eagerly, and her eyes squeezed shut.

He watched as her lips pressed into thin, white lines. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to get to work. Can you please stop asking me these questions?” She finally said softly, with an undercurrent of hurt, thinly veiled, but Lucien heard her all the same. The world seemed so dreary despite the colors, and Lucien knew it was because of her mood.

The poor security guards struggled, trying to clear a path for her so she can enter the building. Kiki and Anna appeared, extending a hand towards her, and pulled her to safety within the glass doors of her company. The world faded into shades of monochrome once more and it was then that Lucien exhaled a quiet sigh of relief.

How did it come to this indeed?

It was supposed to be a simple task, a mission he could’ve accomplished with a flick of a hand. It was supposed to be easy. She was incredibly innocent and quick to trust; all he had to do was show her a little bit of kindness. And yet, Lucien found himself bewitched by her, getting his eye sliced open to prove to Black Swan that he was still on their side. That had been nothing more than a mere inconvenience for him. And yet, when the grunts had attempted to capture her, he failed to accomplish that simple of a task and instead, had let her escape. Lucien recalled the look in her eyes as she bravely held the pen-the very one he had endearingly given to her-to her neck and crimson blood leaked from her neck. That look had destroyed him. Only she was capable of such a thing. If she asked for Lucien’s heart, Lucien would’ve willingly torn it out and present it to her on a silver platter. Except for the fact, Lucien’s lips flitted into a wry smirk, he had no heart. His heart had belonged to her the moment she showed him the true brilliance of the world, the indescribable colors that had changed and wreaked havoc on everything he once knew. And Lucien had willingly allowed her to do so. Black Swan may have saved his life, but this woman, this woman who had entered his life in an explosion of colors, this woman had saved his soul. And in that sense, she had saved his life as well.

Falling in love with her wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. Those who knew him, knew him to be ruthless, emotionally detached, and ever-so-cold. But from the moment his world exploded into a vibrant myriad of colors, he was hooked. He had found himself wanting to see her every moment of the day, a message or call from her would allow a fond smile to spring up unbidden. Lucien remembered the poisonous jealousy he had felt when he attended one of her company dinners and her coworkers had asked her who was the most important person in her life. A little drunk and giving in to the green-eyed monster, he had confronted her only for her to tell him that it was him. The relief he had felt at that moment was ridiculous, like a tsunami of emotions flooding his entire system. He remembered gritting his teeth and clenching his fists at the sight of the officer who had shyly given her that ginkgo bracelet. He remembered the utter panic he felt when he found out she was in the hospital because of a stupid trick Black Swan had attempted to pull off and later, he remembered feeling the stifling frustration when the LFG CEO had barred anyone from seeing her. And Lucien remembered trying to focus on his research but hearing the idol singer’s bright voice float through the thin walls.

“Miss Chips! I brought the newest video game! Play with me!”

He had hoped she would refuse, but to his surprise, she had readily agreed. And he had tried so hard to ignore the sounds of happy entertainment before giving up and angrily leaving his apartment. That had been the moment he had realized that, that simple, oh-so-easy plan was not so easy after all.

How? How could it have happened this way?

When did he start feeling these irritating emotions that made his chest clench so painfully?

Was it when he took her to the New Light Library to help her with materials for the show and he had blurted out, *“Will you teach me how to love?”

Or was it when he had gifted her that gardenia and they had decided to take care of it together?

Or maybe it was when he had taken her to a firefly exhibition and she had defended the poor firefly struggling weakly to survive, saying that all life should be respected?

Was it when they went to the aquarium together and he had warned her, but she had refused?

Maybe it was when he had to go to Denmark, and she had followed him, getting sick in the process but had clung so desperately to him?

Was it because she had been the only one who had cared about him, about his birthday, and worried so excessively over his happiness?

Lucien had tried so hard to push her away, but every time she would come back, worrying when he got sick, calling when he didn’t respond to her messages. He had lived his entire life knowing only the cold shades of black and white. But with her, he was able to see the glorious pastels of a rainbow after a storm, the vibrant reds of the Canadian maple forest, the cerulean blue of the sea, the brilliant golden flashes of fireworks, and the warm orange flickering of the lotus lantern they had sent down the river together. She had been the one who had turned his birthday, which had been countless anniversaries that reminded him of the tragic events from his childhood, to something he actually wanted to look forward to every year.

He didn’t know the answers to these questions, but when Hades had tried to capture her for his foolish RESET plan on the day of his press conference, Lucien realized that for the first time in his life, he felt fear. Fear of losing her. Fear of her being in pain. Fear that someone saw the dazzling purity of hers and tried to use it for dark and polluted gains. For the first time in his life, Lucien had something to lose. Something so infinitely precious to him that it was more important than his own life. And yet, this woman had been hurt by his own hand.

Pain was not a foreign concept to Lucien. Being in Black Swan, it was readily available. He had utilized it upon his enemies, upon those who had cast doubt on him, and upon himself. But none of it could compare to the pain he had felt all those sleepless nights hearing the broken sobs of the woman he had hurt so deeply. For the first time, Lucien truly understood what a deadly weapon pain could be.

And now…

Lucien looked at the still clamoring crowd of reporters lurking around the entrance of her building and clenched his fists. Because of him, her life was upturned once more.

He had been keeping a close eye on her after he brought her from Hades’ dreamworld, fearing that Hades would discover the way out and go after her again. His hunches were right after discovering Hades’ minions lurking about her apartment community. He had disposed of them quietly, of course, but the reporters were a different story. Lucien knew she had been working late nights just to avoid the reporters.

Which was why Lucien was now sitting in his car, in the parking lot of her building, waiting for her to get off work.

Fool, a voice whispered inside his head, but he ignored it. He was currently the only one who could possibly protect her. As jealous as he had been with Gavin, Victor, and Kiro, he appreciated the fact that all three of them had protected her. But now, Gavin had gone somewhere, Victor’s whereabouts were unknown and couldn’t be reached, and he didn’t know what Helios was planning after abandoning his image as Kiro.

The dull gray lights suddenly morphed into a muted yellow and Lucien looked up. She had appeared at last.

He got out of the car silently and walked towards her. She checked her phone and let out an exhausted sigh, rotating her shoulders.

Show no emotion, Lucien reminded himself. He grabbed her arm and pushed her into his car before she even had a chance to react.

“AH!” She exclaimed in surprise, preparing herself to fight.

*“It’s me,” Lucien spoke softly to prevent her from struggling. She froze the moment she heard his voice and turned, wide-eyed, to look at him. Lucien forced himself to look straight ahead. “Fasten your seatbelt,” he commanded quietly, before starting the car.

She gritted her teeth, *“Why do I have to go with you? Where are you taking me?” She demanded.

Lucien clenched the steering wheel. Hearing her voice-albeit angry-reminded him that she was alive and breathing. And sitting next to him. *“To your place,” he answered her question passively, trying not to give light to the murky emotions that swirled within him.

She fell silent and he drove on. The way home never seemed so long, and the traffic lights were not helping, stopping them at every intersection. But Lucien was secretly glad; the longer he spent with her, the more content he felt. Even though she was still angry at him, Lucien cherished the time spent with her.

He could sense her eyes watching him, questions as clear as day on her face. When he couldn’t take the stare any longer, he met her gaze through the mirror. As if struck by a live wire, she immediately dropped her eyes. Lucien noticed how her fingers clenched white against the seatbelt and he gripped the steering wheel to prevent himself from doing something he shouldn’t (like grabbing her hand and smoothing out her tension). He hated himself for causing these reactions in her.

*“I came out to tell you not to go out for a while, unless you have to,” Lucien broke the silence quietly, his voice slightly hoarse. The reporters should stop bothering her after a few days.

Her eyes flitted to him in surprise, *“But I need to go to work! Don’t worry, I won’t tell the reporters anything,” she added hastily.

Silly girl, he mused silently, you misinterpret my intentions yet again.

*“Do you think I came all this way just because I was worried you might blab to the reporters?” Lucien asked aloud, pressing his lips together thinly.

She lowered her eyes, ashamed, and they fell in silence once more.

Nothing more than acquaintances, Lucien thought to himself bitterly. There used to never be awkward gaps of silence between them, but now silence permeated every possible space between them. She was only sitting next to him, but she felt oceans away. It was clear that she felt uncomfortable, with the way she was twisting her body away from him. And it was all his fault, Lucien supposed, getting stopped by a traffic light yet again. Her finding out who he was, however, was inevitable. And in that sense, Lucien thought that she should know earlier before she had completely given her heart to him. That way, she could still keep a bit of herself intact.

After stopping at the last traffic light before her apartment community, Lucien broke the silence once more, *“Anyway, don’t get caught up in any unnecessary danger,” he reminded her again.

*“You as well!” She piped up immediately and Lucien felt his heart clench.

Still worrying about me, my little fool. Worry about yourself first.

Instead, Lucien grated out a laugh, *“Who do you think can hurt me?

How ironic, Lucien sneered at himself, the only person who could ever hurt him was sitting right next to him.

They had finally reached the gate and Lucien rolled down his window so he could greet the security guard. *“Hello,” he said politely, smiling warmly.

The security guard’s eyes widened when he realized it was Lucien.  *“Professor Lucien, worked late today? It’s been a while since I saw you!”

*“Yes,” Lucien replied evenly, “I’m dropping her off at home.”

*“Haha, you are still so close!” The security guard teased, and Lucien saw her look away hurriedly, fingers clenching on her seatbelt again. Lucien nodded, still smiling as he drove away. His smile faded when they had reached the entrance of her apartment building.

They had arrived at last. It was time to say goodbye once again.

Lucien reminded her again without looking at her, *“Keep in mind everything I have told you tonight.”

She huffed at him, *“I know what I’m doing,” and opened the door in her haste.

Lucien reached over and she stiffened immediately. She tried to push him away, but Lucien held her wrists.

*“Let go of me!” She glared fiercely at him and Lucien’s chest tightened in response.

*“Are you that afraid of me?” Lucien whispered. She stopped struggling at those words and stilled. It was then that he realized belatedly that he had said his thoughts aloud. Lucien looked away, unfastened her seatbelt, and leaned away from her when he was done. *“You forgot to unfasten your seatbelt,” he informed her quietly, internally struggling to keep his emotions down.

*“…Thanks,” she said grudgingly and got out of the car. She took only two steps and turned around.

*Lucien rolled down the car window slowly, “What is it? Did you forget something?”

*He couldn’t read her expression as she shook her head. “You, not me,” she exhaled and continued. “All those things you left in my apartment; I’ve packed them up. Wait here, I’ll bring them down.”

*“Are they heavy?” Lucien managed to ask. This entire scene was funny as if they were going through a breakup, but Lucien didn’t laugh, couldn’t laugh.

*“No. I can manage by myself,” she replied curtly, placing heavy emphasis on “by myself.”

Lucien pressed his lips together and watched as she walked away, away from him, just like she did the day she found out who he really was. And then again on the day of the press conference. 

Did my little butterfly already fly away?

He had no time to linger on his thoughts, however, as he soon noticed two men in black seemingly appear from darkness and look up in the direction of her balcony. He cursed under his breath. Hades. They were probably there to observe her movements and report them to Hades. He shouldn’t be seen by them, otherwise Black Swan will know of his betrayal. And she must not come out at this moment. Scowling, Lucien pulled out his phone.

*<Rest early. Just mail it to this address.>

After sending the message, he started his car and took note of how there were two additional men in black tactical gear near the entrance of her apartment. Hmm STF, he thought to himself. Interesting. He drove off, circling behind another apartment complex as to not draw attention to himself. It was late, she should rest anyway, given how exhausted she had looked when Lucien had picked her up. And she seemed to be well protected for now. He knew Hades’ men wouldn’t try anything with STF agents around. For now, it was safer for her that he left. And he needed to figure out how to deal with Hades.

Two days later, a package arrived for him, but he had no time to open it due to all the work he had. He sent her a simple, “Thanks,” but he had gotten no response from her. Lucien had checked up on her occasionally; but after a few days, as he had guessed, the reporters stopped bothering her as the city slowly dissolved into mild panic over how the virus had developed. His worry about her safety decreased when he had noticed that she had STF agents following her, but that didn’t extinguish the longing inside of his heart.

The days slowly morphed into weeks and Lucien had been quite busy. Hades had not made things easy for him, but Lucien didn’t mind the workload. Every step he made in his progress was a step towards her happiness, her safety.

After working straight for twelve hours, he stood up and stretched. On his way to the kitchen, he accidentally kicked the box she had sent up. He looked at the box for a moment before making the decision to open it. He peeled the tape that bound the box shut and the box revealed its contents. With growing despair, Lucien glanced at the variety of books and movies that he had lent the girl. Each title brought a special memory. The last things in the box were paper cranes strung up in long lines, cushioning the books and DVDs. He touched the cranes tenderly, smiling as he recalled the day she had taught him how to fold these cranes. He had pretended to be bad at the task, causing her to huff at him.

*"Seriously, are you pretending not to know how?” The girl frowned at him as she watched his fingers fumble with the piece of paper.

*"No one has ever taught me this before,” Lucien admitted sheepishly.

She straightened her shoulders proudly, *"Well, better late than never! This teacher has full confidence in your talent!”

Lucien smiled at her confidence. *"In that case, I will await your instructions.”

Under her careful tutelage, they had made many paper cranes that afternoon. *Lucien fondly unfolded each of the cranes carefully, remembering that she had written a wish inside one of the paper cranes. She had whispered it while writing it down and he had overheard it, pretending he didn’t.

It was a wish about them.

*Does that wish mean nothing to her anymore?

Lucien sighed and refolded the cranes. Perhaps he should be thinking like her, letting the past dwell in the past, he mused sadly. But despite his thoughts, he found himself hanging the strings of cranes up.

*The light outside the window shone down upon the cranes and the raindrops outlined the gray and dusty memory. The pouring rain couldn’t wet these cranes, but somehow, one of them had faint blots on its wing. He reached out and gently held it in his hands. It was the crane in which she had written her wish. Lucien swallowed, trying to keep the choking emotions from surfacing.

*“I wish Lucien and I forever…”

The rest of her wish was blurred by tearstains. But Lucien knew the rest. It was the same as his. Every single time she made a wish-be it on the candles of his birthday cake, or the glowing lantern, or this simple crane-all her wishes had aligned with those of Lucien’s.

Lucien caressed the crane, *when he suddenly saw a dazzling figure in a cream-colored dress in the midst of the gray rain. His eyes widened. She had appeared like a mirage, the manifestation of his thoughts and longings.

*Lucien frowned, Silly…How did you end up here?

Without a second thought, he *grabbed an umbrella by the door and hurried out into the pouring rain. The clattering rain drowned his accelerating heartbeat.

*Lub-dub, lub-dub...

So engrossed was she in her task, that she didn’t see Lucien approaching her. He held the umbrella over her, and she looked up in surprise.

*“Why have you come looking for me?” Lucien tried hard to quash the happiness in his voice. She didn’t respond and continued to stare wide-eyed at him. Lucien spoke up again, *“Why didn’t you call ahead?”

*“I…” her eyes skipped from his, *“I just want to return something, then I’ll be on my way,” she mumbled.

“What is it?” Lucien asked as he reached out to her to pull her closer under the umbrella. She shrank back, but slipped. Before he could even form thoughts, Lucien’s body reacted. He hurriedly grabbed her before she could fall and wrapped his arms around her. A sigh left his mouth that was lost in the rain as he felt her familiar warmth and smelled her comforting scent. She was safe.

In her panic, she tried to push him away, but Lucien gently took her wrists. They walked silently with the rain beating down on them. Lucien could feel her gaze on him once again. She raised her hand only to drop it back to her side. Lucien cast a glance at her, *“What is it?”

*“You’re getting wet from the rain,” she murmured as a dusty-rose colored her cheeks.

Lucien chuckled, and couldn’t help teasing her, *“Someone else also got soaked.”

Her cheeks reddened further as she looked down at her feet. She seemed to be at an internal struggle with the way she kept gripping her purse. Her eyes kept scanning around, as if looking for an exit route.

Lucien pretended not to notice and led her gently to his front door. *“Didn’t you have something to return to me? You’re leaving already? Come in,” he invited.

Stay a little longer. Please, Lucien pleaded silently.

She hesitantly walked through the door and ruffled through her purse. *“I’ll just leave this here,” she said softly, producing a DVD and setting it gently on the counter.

Lucien glanced at the title and his heart clenched. It was a film he had recommended her, and she had promised to give him a film review.

*“Wait a moment,” he managed to say, stopping her before she could leave him again. Lucien picked the disc up and came closer to her, caging her between him and the door. He kept trying to find reasons to stay with her a bit longer, just like he had done so at the end of the press conference. But this time, Lucien decided to let himself be a bit selfish. *“You still owe me something, right?”

*“Wh-what?” She stammered nervously. He saw through her purpose. She had obviously wanted to deliver the disc and leave as fast as possible.

*“A movie review,” Lucien answered, holding the disc up.

*She lowered her head guiltily, but Lucien lifted her chin, searching her eyes.

*“Or does our big-time producer not even have time to watch a movie anymore?” he asked. She didn’t answer, but he saw through her anyway. Lucien’s lips curved into a tiny smile. “This is a good piece of work,” he coaxed gently.

*“But I don’t want to take it back anymore…” she mumbled, biting her lips. Lucien saw her scan the living room and her eyes landed on the paper cranes. A wave of sadness swept across her face and she closed her eyes.

*“You can finish watching it here,” Lucien offered.

*“ …I’m running late for the last subway,” she refuted weakly.

Lucien almost laughed, “I’ll bring you home when it’s over.” He knew she wanted to end everything between them, but couldn’t bring herself to do so. Lucien decided to be the bad guy once again to save her the trouble. *“Or, do you want to keep owing me this movie review?” It was easier for him to do the dirty work.

With no room left to argue, she nodded resignedly and Lucien’s heart soared triumphantly.

He handed her a towel for her to dry off and went to set up the movie. She sat down stiffly on the couch and Lucien sat by the window.

What are you doing? Lucien chided himself as he watched raindrops glide down the window. He could feel her eyes on him again. Breaking his gaze away from the window, he turned to look at her. *“It’s starting,” he reminded her gently when the opening credits ended. She hastily turned her attention toward the screen.

Lucien watched her. He had chosen this specific piece because it served as another warning: he was not who he said he was. Throughout all their time spent together, Lucien had given her countless warnings only for her to dismiss them and run back into Lucien’s arms. And if Lucien was being honest, he didn’t want to let her go either. The longer he spent with her, the further the line between Lucien and Ares blurred, until Lucien didn’t really know who he was either. But now, he had one purpose. To keep her safe. It didn’t matter if he was Lucien or Ares. Around her, he was simply a man wanting to protect the person most important to him.

After a while, she turned to look at him again and their eyes met. Flashes of sadness, surprise, and longing ran across her eyes. Silence filled the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or stifling like it had been last time.

Lucien paused the film. *“Is the movie not good?” He asked softly after a while, not wanting to break the pregnant pause.

She shook her head silently. Before she could answer, however, she sneezed suddenly.

*Lucien sighed and got up, bringing her tissues. He shrugged out of his coat to cover her small shoulders. “How do you still take such poor care of yourself…?” The words left his mouth, exasperated. Embarrassed, she shuffled in her seat. Lucien brought her a cup of hot tea and she inhaled the fragrance. Her lips touched the back of his hand as he tried to cover the mouth of the mug. Electricity ran from where her lips had touched his hand and left tingles up his entire arm. “Always in such a rush…” he said fondly. “It’s still hot, wait a bit before drinking it.” He was unable to keep the affection out of his voice.

She stiffened and Lucien knew she heard the tenderness of his words. He berated himself. “Why are you being gentle to me again?” She whispered brokenly, squeezing her eyes shut.

There was no going back now.

*“A very interesting question,” Lucien finally responded, “But, before answering you, I also want to clear something up.” He moved slowly until he was sitting next to her on the couch. Ignoring how she curled into herself as he approached, he asked the question he wanted to know from the very beginning. “Each time I push you away, why do you keep coming back to me?” Lucien felt the tiny flutter of hope within his chest.

Could it be?

She didn’t answer, but Lucien dared himself to hope. And for the first time, he felt he wanted to bare his soul to her.

*He leaned in closer to her when suddenly the paper cranes broke from the ceiling and landed around them. Slowly, he found the crane that contained her precious wish and pushed it into her hands. “That’s my answer,” he said finally. He let her see him for who he truly was for the first time. He continued, “But the process of achieving this takes time and patience.”

And there it was. His heart and soul and all the feelings it contained for the woman in his arms were all laid out in front of her.

There was a small gasp before she dissolved into tears.

*“Liar… You said you didn’t see it,” she accused him tearfully, hand holding onto the crane.

Lucien pulled her gently into his lap as he enveloped her in his arms, his heart finally feeling full after a long while. She clung to him just as tightly, her arms encircling his neck. “Silly… *Do I need to peek to know what you’re thinking?” He whispered against her hair.

*He pressed his lips against her neck, a silent promise of his answer to her question. He wanted to be selfish for once.

She tugged at his tie, lifting his head and she leaned in. “Kiss me properly, Lucien,” her soft breath brushed against his lips.

Lucien acquiesced. Their lips met, soft like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings. He tasted the salt of her tears, but the sweet nectar of her lips overpowered everything. Lucien was hopelessly and irrevocably addicted.

They broke apart slowly, breaths still mingling. *Lucien held up his hands, just like he had when he accompanied her on her quest to find the truth. *“This represents two choices,” he began softly, gazing into her eyes.  “The right is to finish what you came here to do. To return the disc and leave, ending everything between us. The left is to pursue the path you want. To act upon these emotions between the two of us, but the path ahead is unknown. It could be dangerous. Even I don’t know what lies ahead.” He offered her a choice; whatever she decides, Lucien would be willing to go along with it.

*Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his left hand just like she had back then. She looked defiantly at him, eyes shining with confidence. “I choose this. I will not run away.”

*“And if this choice brings you harm and turns your life upside down? You’d still choose it?” Lucien repeated the words he had spoken to her long ago.

*“Yes, I most certainly do,” she answered, leaving no room for argument. A warmth in Lucien’s heart blossomed and swelled. This woman! She came into his life in a whirlwind of color and always acted differently from Lucien’s every expectations. Lucien had never met anyone like her, and he knew that he never will. She was the only one.

*Lucien laughed and closed his left hand, clasping their hands together tightly. “I understand your choice.”

For tonight, Lucien decided to let himself pretend that the woman in his arms belonged to him and only him. That there wasn’t anything or anyone against them. That she wasn’t in any danger. That there was no Black Swan, no plot to overturn the world, no viruses, no pain, and no fear. That they were the only ones in this world and the only thing that mattered. That they were simply a man and a woman in love. And Lucien decided it was time to put his thinking and all his worries on hold. It was time to finally give in to the emotions that had been slowly consuming him. For once, it was time to let his heart lead instead of his head.

He leaned in to taste her sweet lips again, licking at the seam. He was granted access as her fingers danced along his collar to pull him closer to her. “Lucien…” the sound of his name on her lips spurred him on, igniting a fire that blazed in his stomach. He traced the inside of her lip with his tongue and was rewarded with a soft moan.

Her fingers worked nimbly on his tie and deftly unbuttoned his shirt as he mapped the crevasses of her mouth with his tongue. She moved to straddle him and he ran his hands down her body until he reached her thighs, where he gripped them to wrap them around his waist. Cupping his chin, she pressed herself to him, lips moving desperately against his.

Just for tonight, Lucien promised himself as he reached up to her face, brushing her hair back softly, just for one night.

He ran his fingers through her hair as he assaulted her mouth, biting, sucking everywhere he could reach. She finished unbuttoning his shirt and slipped her hands inside. Lucien shuddered at her touch, her fingers tracing fire and leaving sparks across his chest. He pulled away to stare at her. “I think I’m at a disadvantage here,” he pretended to frown.

Her laughter was infectious as it rang through the air. “Then you should catch up,” she quipped, bright eyes sparkling with mirth, cheeks ablaze with pink. She looked so beautiful that Lucien had to literally bite down the urge to take, to claim.

“So I shall,” Lucien breathed, fingers playing with the hem of her blouse. Still staring at each other, she slowly raised her arms and Lucien tantalizingly dragged the fabric over her head.

Lucien’s breath caught. She was dressed in a white lace bra that cupped her breasts enchantingly. A pink flush crept up her body and Lucien’s gaze changed. She shyly averted her gaze when she noticed how dark Lucien’s pupils had become. Lucien reached for her, crashing his lips against hers. “Mm!” She gasped against his unrelenting mouth. Lucien picked her up and stood up, causing her to squeak out a surprised, “Lucien!”

“As much as I’d like to have you right here, I think I’d prefer to have you on my bed,” Lucien’s voice was low, hungry. “Also people might see and the idea of sharing you is not particularly appealing to me.” He walked purposefully towards his bedroom; her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Despite his heated words, he took care to set her down gently on the bed, removing her skirt when he did so. He knelt on the bed to kiss her again, hands making quick work of her bra, and leaned back on his feet to look at her.

She swallowed hard when she met Lucien's heated gaze as he cupped her breasts. A small moan bubbled from her throat. Lucien watched, enraptured, as she closed her eyes and arched into his hands. His thumbs flicked over her nipples and he squeezed them gently, causing her to gasp softly. Beautiful. He was utterly captivated by this amazing woman in front of him. He bent down to suckle at her collarbone as he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, nipping her skin when he felt her nipples harden. He ran a hand down her stomach and teased a finger along the band of her panties, smiling against her neck when he heard a sharp intake of breath. Pressing a soft kiss against her neck, he let his lips travel upward and lightly nipped at her ear. 

“Mm,” she leaned into him, “Lucien…” she sighed his name, setting his heart and body aflame.

“Yes…” Lucien whispered as he leaned down to devour her lips, “Keep calling me, I want to hear you.” He kissed her deeply as he cupped one of her breasts, his other hand pressing her closer to him. He sucked at her collarbone and a scarlet rose blossomed beautifully.

“Lucien…” she moaned, arching as she pushed herself into Lucien’s warm hand. The sweet sound sent fire coursing through Lucien’s veins.

“Yes, beautiful girl…Just like that…” Lucien sighed as her hands pulled his neck down in an attempt to be closer to him. She leaned back on her elbows to look up at him and Lucien gazed at the sight from the foot of the bed, awed. Half-naked, hair mussed, lips swollen, she was truly a sight to behold.

They stared at each other, heated gazes meeting, acutely aware of what was going to happen, what they were about to do.

She bit on her lip as he shed his shirt and made his way back to her. They met in a fiery kiss with Lucien nipping at her lower lip. She moaned in his mouth and he swallowed her sound. Her sweet noises of pleasure were for him and him alone. He moved down to her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the heated skin and felt her swallow. 

He nipped at her collarbone and kissed a path through the valley of her breasts. He kept his gaze on her as her breath hitched as he slowly moved his hands up her waist, making her moan breathily. “Beautiful,” he whispered, his breath sending a cool puff of air across the trail of saliva he had created and she shivered. She held her breath as Lucien descended on her breast, his violet eyes never leaving her face. Lucien took her nipple into his mouth, making her moan sweetly. He swirled his tongue around the nub, making a satisfied hum when it instantly hardened at the stimulation. He brought his hand up to tend to her other breast. She moaned lowly, arching her back, her hands landing in Lucien’s hair. He bit down and felt her fingers tighten in his hair, earning her a hiss of pleasure from Lucien. “Beautiful,” he proclaimed, letting go of her breast. He trailed his tongue down to her stomach, to her belly button and pressed another soft kiss there. Lucien traveled further down, making her breath hitch in her throat.

She swallowed hard, her breath quickly becoming short and staggered. She had never felt like this before. The way Lucien looked at her and touched her, worshipped her. He made her feel beautiful, made her feel like a goddess. He never had been one to be shy with his affections. But this. Even though she could never guess what Lucien was thinking, she felt his love through his touches, his kisses.

Lucien traced the band of her panties with his tongue. He kissed the apex where her thighs met through the lace material of her panties and felt her shudder. Smiling, he closed his teeth on the band and very slowly, gently, he tugged. “Lift yourself for me,” he breathed, sending puffs of warm air across her skin, which raised goosebumps instantly. He hooked a finger around her panties and she obliged, raising her hips so that Lucien could take the material off. Tantalizingly slow, he dragged her panties down her hips, down her thighs, down her calves, and finally over her feet. Kneeling between her legs, Lucien gazed up at her. “Beautiful,” he voiced, wonder lacing his word. Her breathing quickened as she noticed how hungry Lucien's gaze was. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her knee, kissing a trail up to her thigh. He let his tongue trace over the skin of her inner thigh, his hand sliding up to do the same to her other leg. She trembled, needing his touch, she was so aroused. Tentatively, he kissed closer to her slick heat. Meeting her gaze, he slowly licked a stripe over the most sensitive part of her. He watched as she arched off the bed with a breathy moan, hands grasping at the bedsheets. 

“Lucien…”

“Delicious,” Lucien murmured, his mouth on her, sending a wave of pleasant vibrations. He committed all of her actions and reactions to memory. Lucien loved the way she reacted to the simplest of touches. He loved the way she moaned his name, perfect lips parting in breathless pants. He loved the way she trembled. He loved every little sound that came out of her mouth. Wanting more, he lapped gently at her heat.

“Lucien-“ his name on her lips was a shaky moan.

Smiling, he let his tongue trace lazy circles around her sensitive nub, making her whimper with pleasure. He didn’t tear his eyes from her face as he sucked on her folds, tongue picking up her sweet juices. Her breathing was starting to become short pants and Lucien slid his tongue inside her. She keened at the sensation, fingers tightening around the bedsheets. Lucien started to pick up his speed, licking more roughly, sucking harder.

“Lucien…. oh…. ah…mmm….” she cried as her eyes closed at the sensations, head lolling back. Every sound she made sent fiery waves through Lucien’s veins. He increased his speed, tongue going further, harder. She was close, Lucien could feel it in the way her legs tightened, her toes curled, and the way she clutched at the sheets. “Lucien-please…” She pleaded, and Lucien doubled his efforts. Her moans were getting louder as his name left her lips in breathless pants. 

“It’s alright, beautiful girl. You can release,” Lucien coaxed, pressing his tongue on that sensitive little bud. “Let go.” 

With a choked moan, she came apart, back arching and her thighs tightened around his head, toes curled in pleasure. Lucien admired the way her stomach muscles contracted and her breasts bouncing slightly and quickly committed the sight to memory. He didn’t want to miss a single detail. She was breathtaking in her pleasure, pleasure that Lucien had given her, and Lucien didn’t think he had seen a more beautiful sight. Without any hesitation, he slid two fingers into her and put his mouth back on her, making her whimper. Allowing her absolutely no time to come down from her high, he began working his fingers and mouth. Fingers curling inside of her to find her sweet spot and he grinned in triumph as she mewled loudly, muscles involuntarily clenching around his fingers. “Please…” the cracked whimper sent fire straight through Lucien’s body and he growled softly, increasing his efforts to make her fall apart again. “Luci-Lucien…I Oh!” Indiscernible sounds made their way out of her parted lips. 

"Come for me once again, butterfly," Lucien whispered, fixated on her as she threw her head back, mouth open with silent cries. "Come for me," he coaxed, fingers moving more urgently as he worked his tongue. 

"Lucien-I... I'm...Oh... Lucien please!" 

"Yes, come for me..." Lucien urged, followed by a soft nip of her sensitive bud as he curled his fingers inside her. With a shuddering moan, his woman fell apart beautifully once again as Lucien watched in rapture. The undulations of her body as she trembled before him from the full force of her orgasm. So tantalizing. So beautiful. Lucien didn't think he had ever been this aroused before. He pressed his mouth against her heat, tasting her tangy nectar as she shuddered around him. Withdrawing his fingers from her, he leaned back onto his knees, and while gazing down at his beautiful girl, he slowly ran his tongue over his slick fingers. She swallowed hard as a bright pink flush painted her cheeks when he popped his fingers into his mouth, sucking hard to clean them. She gazed back at him, chest heaving as her breasts bounced lightly from her exertion, looking like the prettiest picture of perfection. Lucien felt a sense of pride in his beautiful masterpiece. 

"Lucien..." she struggled to catch her breath as she weakly sat up. He leaned down and pressed a heated kiss against her parted lips. She moaned into his mouth when she tasted herself on his tongue.

“I’m not done with you just yet, butterfly,” he whispered, catching her as she collapsed against him. 

“Then you better take your pants off,” she demanded.Laughing breathlessly, Lucien leaned back to unbuckle his belt. Slowly, he unzipped his pants, eyes never leaving her face. Her hands joined his as they removed his pants and underwear together. He kicked the garments off the bed and kneeled between her legs. Slowly, Lucien palmed himself, still maintaining eye contact. He was already hard from pleasuring her and so he stroked himself roughly. “Like what you see?” Lucien’s voice was hoarse.

She eyed him, “Very much so,” And with saying that, she licked her lips.

Lucien chuckled but it died in his throat when she tentatively reached for him. He groaned when she wrapped her hands around him. She stroked him gently and Lucien swallowed thickly, throwing his head back with a low moan. Her touch was electrifying, carrying tingling sensations all over his body. Lucien whispered her name, hips gently bucking into her warm hand when he couldn't help himself. Another moan made his head tilt back once more as she caressed his tip with a soft thumb, spreading the leaking moisture all over. Lucien closed his eyes and began to lose himself in the sensations of her warm hand. He felt her lips on his throat and he shuddered when she bit down on the skin, sucking hard to make a red mark.

“Mine,” she breathed, tongue lapping against the mark.

“Yours,” Lucien replied, gazing at her with such tenderness that she felt like crying. He leaned forward and pressed her into the sheets gently, his hands coming up to frame her face as he rested his weight on his elbows. “I belong to no one else but you.”

“Lucien…” she whispered his name, tears springing to her eyes, “I love you…” Her confession was hushed, but her words pierced Lucien’s heart as well as his soul, shattering the walls he wrought up to keep out the world.

Instead of replying, Lucien kissed her fervently, putting all his emotions into the kiss. Silly girl, he mused silently, why would you love a person like me?

But that was just the kind of person she was. Doing the unexpected, the unconventional. She abided by no rules except her own. It was the thing Lucien admired most about her. And he had promised himself this one night...

And for this one night, he allowed himself to love this woman, the way she deserved to be loved.

Kissing her deeply, Lucien ran his hand down the length of her body, caressing every inch of her until he reached her dripping arousal. Dripping with need for him. And only him. That thought filled Lucien with wholly satisfaction. That he is the only one to see her, touch her, hear her, taste her like this. He slipped his fingers within her wet folds as she moaned into his mouth.

“Lucien…” she choked out his name in a breathy whine.

“What is it, butterfly? Tell me, what is it that you want?” Lucien’s voice was rough. He increased his speed and sucked at her neck.

“You…I want…you,” she moaned breathlessly as her thighs clamped around his hand.

Well, if it’s what she wants… Lucien thought he ought to deliver.

He slowly extricated his fingers from her, making her whine shamelessly at the loss of sensation. “Just a minute, butterfly,” he said hoarsely as he reached for the drawer.

Her arm came up to stop him. “No…” she panted, “I want…I need to feel you.”

The outburst made Lucien pause, his eyes widened in surprise.

She tugged at his arms, “Please, Lucien…I need you,” she implored. The way she looked at that moment should be illegal, Lucien thought to himself. Her hair was messy, her eyes were blazing with want. And Lucien would be the bad guy if he didn’t give her what she wanted.

He propped himself back onto his elbow and stroked himself urgently with his other hand. As he aligned herself at her entrance, he searched her eyes. “Are you sure?” His voice was strained, but he had to make sure she was absolutely sure about this, that it was her decision.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. “Absolutely,” she breathed against his lips before pushing her hips to meet his. In a swift movement, Lucien entered her. For a moment, it felt like he was home. She moaned, arching to meet him as their lips crashed.

Lucien pulled back and thrust into her, trying to find the spot that had made her unravel so beautifully. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing him in deeper. Lucien growled, a low sound in his chest, as he adjusted his hips and was rewarded with the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

“Lucien!” She whimpered, rocking her hips to meet his thrusts, arms clenched tight around his neck.

“Keep calling me,” Lucien panted, speed increasing as their passion built. “I need to hear you.”

“Lucien…Lucien…” His name was a chant on her lips like it was the only thing she knew how to say. She was so tight and so perfect around Lucien as if made for him and him alone. Doubling his effort, Lucien pressed his thumb against her sensitive bud. “Lucien!” Her nails dug into his back and Lucien relished in the sweet pain, thrusting harder. He knew she was close with the way her thighs clamped around his waist and the way her walls tightened around him.

“Come for me,” Lucien commanded breathlessly, thrusting relentlessly into her, his thumb circling her nub. “Come for me, beautiful girl, I want to see you undone.”

One more thrust, and she exploded as waves of pleasure washed over. She tightened around Lucien and a choked gasp fell from his lips. Breathless and quivering with pleasure, she sank into the mattress, still clinging tightly to Lucien.

Lucien knew that in that moment, if the world ended right then and there, he wouldn’t have cared. He paused slightly to press his forehead against hers before continuing to thrust into her, his movements getting more urgent. She shakily cupped his face as she slotted her lips against his, silently urging him to chase his own pleasure. Lucien didn’t need any more heeding as his hips jerked frantically. His brows knit in concentration and his lips parted with effort. Lucien grunted as he felt her tightening around him once again.

“Lucien…Lucien…” she blabbered against his lips, entirely incomprehensible.

Lucien swallowed her every pant, every moan as he reached between her legs once more. He wanted to see her in the throes of passion as he came. 

“I love you,” she panted, “I love you.”

It was those words that made Lucien utterly fall apart. He tensed as his hips stuttered to a stop, spilling heat within her. His body shuddered from pure bliss as he slumped into her arms, breathing harshly against her lips. Stars erupted behind his closed eyes, the most brilliant and vibrant flashes of gold danced in his vision. His actions coaxed another release for her as she climaxed around him. The feeling was indescribable, and Lucien thought that if he were to leave this world, he'd absolutely have no regrets.

Trembling, she fell back against the bed, pulling Lucien down with her. He took great care not to crush her and laid down on his side, his arms encircling her waist. Their pants mingling together until they weren't sure who was exhaling and who was inhaling. They gazed at each other, still breathless, still connected. He could hear both of their hearts beating in time, synchronized thudding to a beat that was unique to only them. Lucien had never felt more complete. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her eyes.

“Lucien, I love you,” she breathed, staring deep into Lucien’s eyes.

He leaned in to kiss her, lips conveying the words of his heart, the words he was unable to speak out.

I love you too, my little butterfly.

Moments passed, the two of them were content to lay in each other’s arms. After a little while, Lucien gently extracted himself from her, prompting a soft whine. He pressed a finger against her lips, shushing her, “Let me clean you up. I’ll be right back,” he promised. 

True to his word, he came back with a towel which he used to wipe her down carefully. She opened her arms invitingly when he was done, and he obediently fell back into her arms. Shifting slightly, he maneuvered them so that she was laying on his chest and he pulled the blankets around them.

“Are you tired?” He asked gently as he stroked her hair.

She shook her head, “Can we talk?” she asked shyly, voice muffled by his chest.

Lucien smiled, “About what?”

She shuffled so she was looking into his eyes. “I…want to know…about Black Swan,” she said hesitantly. “About how and why you joined. And…about Ares…”

Lucien simply nodded, unsurprised. He knew this conversation would come up sooner or later. “Are you sure you want to have this conversation now? It’s not exactly a happy story.”

“I want to know,” she bit her lip gently.

“Alright,” Lucien agreed without hesitation, “Where would you like to start?”

Her eyes widened in surprise, obviously not expecting Lucien to agree so easily. “How about…how you came to join Black Swan?”

Lucien’s lips pursed in thought, “Well, there’s not much to it,” he finally said. “A car accident happened when I was seven. It took away my parents and left me in critical condition. People from Black Swan found me, saved my life, and I’ve been with them ever since.”

She digested this information, “And…Ares?” she hesitantly said the name.

“Ares is the name I use within the organization,” Lucien told her gently, “I’m sure that you’ve noticed by now, that we prefer Greek god names.”

“But…” she dragged out the word slowly, “You seem like two different people when you’re…Ares and when you’re Lucien.”

Lucien sighed, “Ares is me. Lucien is also me. Ares and Lucien are one and the same.” There was a bitter tone in his voice.

She was silent for a few moments. “Maybe that’s true,” she murmured, “But I know you would never hurt me. And that includes Ares.” The last part was full of confidence.

Silly girl, Lucien sighed internally, “I did…certain things when I was Ares…Because of that, I have a certain image within Black Swan,” he started haltingly. She nodded like she understood. “I approached you as Ares pretending to be your version of the ‘Lucien’ that you know. I needed to get close to you so I could accomplish my mission. But…I failed.”

“How?” She asked him quietly.

Lucien chuckled, “What do you think? It’s all because of you, silly girl. I’m supposed to bring you to Black Swan, and I’ve had all these opportunities to do so. And yet, here you are.”

“Did you…get hurt?”

“Can you please worry about yourself for once?” Lucien tweaked her nose and sighed.

She wrinkled her nose, “I don’t need to worry about myself because I have you protecting me,” she smiled. “You said I’m an asset to you.”

“Are you always this trusting?” Lucien asked, exasperated.

*“You told me you would ensure my safety. And that you don’t engage in worthless endeavors. I thought that was because I am the Queen. But now like you said, I haven’t been taken to Black Swan, so what is it that you’re protecting me from? Why would you protect me from Black Swan when you’re a member of Black Swan?” She raised her chin, challenging him.

She had seen right through him. Lucien’s lips curved into a small smile.

His fingers traced gentle circles on her waist. “I think you already know the answer to that,” he murmured. “You should know…I never intended to lie to you, but my intentions were never good to begin with,” the last part of his sentence was a little quieter, as if Lucien were talking to himself.

“What changed?” She asked curiously.

Lucien heaved a self-deprecating sigh, “You,” he said, simple and straightforward. She looked at him, confused. Lucien cradled her face gently and smiled, “You did. You changed everything. You turned all of my plans inside out and my world upside down.”

Her brow furrowed, “Me? What do you mean?”

“You brought color into my world,” Lucien said simply, leaving her to wonder what he meant by those words. Before she could respond, he continued, “*You taught me all the beautiful things, like folding a paper crane. You showed me how beautiful a rainbow after a storm could be. *I used to not fear death, but I started fearing it only after I met you. And because of you, I want to live.”

Her eyes turned watery, “Lucien…”

“What?” he sighed, brushing his thumbs on her cheeks, “Why are you crying, silly girl? It’s all true.”

She sniffled, “I’m not crying,” she said hastily.

“Alright,” Lucien chuckled, pulling her closer and placing a chaste kiss on her lips. “You should sleep, it’s late.”

She pulled back to gaze into his eyes. “You’re going to hypnotize me, aren’t you?” Seeing his startled expression, she smiled wryly, “You were never this open with me before, something must be up.”

“Do you regret it? Your decision?” Lucien asked instead.

“Of course not,” she replied firmly, “I’m just glad that precious memories like these exist. And you can protect these precious and happy memories for us.”

“I know you made your choice,” Lucien started hesitantly but she shook her head at him.

“Lucien, I made my choice, but you must have your reasons. I’m choosing to believe that your reasons must have something to do with protecting me. And if it’s because of that, then I’ll allow you to do so. I respect your decision and your choices, just like you did with mine. And right now, I’m happy just to be able to be in your arms like this,” she gazed deeply into his violet eyes. “Being able to create these memories with you is enough for me. I shouldn’t be any more greedy and wish that I can cling onto these memories as well.”

Lucien’s breath caught in his throat. “Do you trust me?” His voice was low, full of unspoken emotion.

She nodded without hesitation. “I do. And I trust that you will come back to me.”

Lucien swallowed hard. “Then I will cherish and protect these beautiful memories,” he vowed hoarsely.

She beamed, and it was still the single-most bright and dazzling thing Lucien had ever seen. “Good.”

“Aren’t you afraid of me? And…the dark part of me?” Lucien finally voiced his worries.

“Lucien,” she smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Just like you said, Ares is you. But it is only a part of you. Ares is not completely Lucien, nor is Lucien completely Ares. Everyone has a dark side, why should you be any different? I love and accept all of you, including Ares. I’m not afraid because of that. We may have different viewpoints and we might disagree with one another, but I’m not afraid of you. I was afraid, however, that all these memories we created together meant nothing to you. That they were all just part of the plan. I was afraid that your feelings weren't real. But now, I know how you truly feel about me and my fears couldn't be further from the truth. Your dark side is only a small part of you, but I love the whole you. As long as you’re Lucien or the part that is ‘Lucien’ exists, I will love you. And you already said earlier,” she touched the mark she had made earlier on his neck. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” Lucien promised, voice thick with raw emotion. His heart swelled. He didn’t think he could love this woman any more than he already did, but she had proven him wrong. Again.

She smiled with satisfaction and leaned in, “I love you, Lucien,” she breathed across Lucien's lips, setting Lucien’s heart aflame.

He was going to do everything in his power to keep her safe. To return to her. So that the next time, they meet, they can love each other openly without fear. And that was a promise Lucien fully intended to keep.

“Wait for me,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers.

“I will,” she replied steadily.

There was a sigh of relief and Lucien tucked her under his chin, holding her close. “Sleep,” he commanded quietly, “It’s late.” He pressed his lips tenderly against her forehead, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into her back.

It was amazing how comfortable Lucien felt with her body against his, lying in his arms. He had not been this relaxed in a long time. She made him feel whole, as if she completed the missing part of his heart. 

And maybe you are, Lucien thought to himself, smiling as he occasionally pressed kisses to her temple, the person at the end of my red string. My little butterfly.

When she had finally fallen asleep, Lucien looked at the slowly brightening sky. His heart tightened. He wanted to freeze this moment forever. The pink-tinged sky didn’t grant his request and instead brilliant hues of orange and red started spreading across the sky, as if taunting him. He didn’t have long before they had to part. Slowly, Lucien eased away from the sleeping girl. He put on the clothes strewn around his room and tenderly dressed her, taking great care not to wake her. He caressed the light purple mark on her collarbone and smiled sadly. It was time. He picked up the girl gently. A bright white light flashed around the room.

They reappeared inside the girl’s apartment. Lucien carried the sleeping figure to her room and tucked her in. He then took out his phone and sent a message to her phone.

<Thank you for returning my disc to me. We had a bit of wine while you watched the movie so you can give me that film review. You got drunk and I brought you home. *Next time do not come to see me without notice. Take care of yourself. -Lucien>

He leaned forward and brushed her bangs back softly to press a soft kiss against her forehead.

“I promise you,” he whispered, “I promise we’ll go fly a kite when spring comes. I promise to celebrate all my birthdays with you. I promise to ensure your safety. I promise I will always come back to you. I promise that we’ll be together. I promise that I belong to you, and to only you.” He repeated all the promises he made her. “Wait for me, butterfly.” He hooked their pinkies together and kissed their linked fingers softly. “I promise.”

He then placed a tender, final kiss against her lips and breathed out the words that had been hidden under his heart for so long. “I love you.”

Lucien stood up and walked to the door silently, before turning around to take one last look at her. She was sleeping soundly. The gentle sun of the early morning cast a soft pink over her, a beautiful but cruel reminder that told Lucien he was out of time. The night he had promised himself had come to an end and now it was morning. It was time for him to go.

He had set a glass of water, along with two painkillers on her bedside table. There was also a paper crane standing guard. It was the one with her wish.

*“I wish Lucien and I forever…”

Underneath her wish, Lucien had added a set of words. Another promise.

*“For every forever that you wished for, I’ll be there.”

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

For more of my work: 📖

[moulinrouge78-blog]

Sex fantasies and other surprises - Part 1

Netflix made me do it. This is my first fanfiction contribution ever posted. It’s hot and erotic because I love and live for SMUT. Enjoy.....

They have been together for a year now and he couldn’t be happier. Their long distance relationship isn’t easy but works out pretty well and today wasn’t just the Friday she would come to Capeside to be with him for a long weekend but also their 1st anniversary of being Joey and Pacey the happy in love couple who make it work.

And he’s got a plan. ‚You are a lucky bastard‘ he smiled to himself standing in front of his bathroom mirror getting ready for his drive to Capeside train station where she would arrive in around an hour. The thought about his girl made him feel light headed and gave him electric shivers that went straight down his groin. He looked down and could see his dick standing In excitement. But there was no time for that, first stops where the florist by the harbour and Capeside‘s fine jewellers. One last look in the mirror to ensure he didn’t miss a smudge of shaving cream on his face and his hair sat in place before he turned around grabbing his keys and went out the door. It was barely 9am and the sun was already warm standing high in a cloudless blue sky. The air smelled of seaweed and sand coming from the dunes with the birds chirping in the trees. He went around to his Ford Explorer and looked at the beach, breathing in the fresh air.  Three years ago the Dudley‘s passed away and Pacey didn’t hesitate to buy their beach house. While the winters are long and cold just as they are around everywhere in Massachusetts he thought Capeside is the most beautiful place on earth in summer when the weather is like this. 

Pacey checked the weather forecast for weeks and this weekend was perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling all the way to the florist and greeted one of the delivery drivers once he parked his car and run over to help the man handling big buckets of Magnolia, Echinacea, Roses, Poppies, Water Lillies, Day Lillies and Pale Grass Pink Orchids. 

‚Hey Rob, let me give you a hand‚ he said taking two of the buckets from the struggling man’s arm, nodding at him. ‚Oh thank you Pacey, these flowers don’t look heavy but they certainly are and I am not getting younger‘ Rob said wiping off a thin layer of sweat he felt forming on his forehead. ‚Ah man, you are still as chirpy and not a day older than 45, are you not?‘ Pacey said with a wide grin. ‚Well add another decade to it and you are about right!‘ Rob chuckled returning a friendly smile. ‚Ohh before i forget. Your flowers are ready! Rob said. Ohh brilliant timing. That’s why I am here. Thank you! 

Ten minutes later, Pacey left the shop with his wildflower garland made of blue false indigo, bowmen‘s root and peach leaved bluebells. He asked for seasonal wild flowers and the arrangement couldn’t be prettier. 

The jewellers was just up the road, 2 traffic lights and 5 minutes away and he suddenly felt very nervous.  This was the tricky part he wanted to get right out of all things. He knew how he wanted to propose to the girl who stole his heart. It usually is Dawson’s expertise to do the fluff and romantic stuff, Pacey did lack in this department a little he thought so he took Jen with him a fortnight ago to show her the ring he selected for Joey. 

‚What do you think, Lindley?‘ he bit his lip, nervous as hell, hoping it wouldn’t be too bad. Jen stared at the open black velvet box with the tiny yellow pear shaped moissanite diamond in the platinum ring base he picked, bedded on a satin cushion. The ring wasn’t pretentious and simple despite the yellow colour of the stone. He knows Joey doesn’t like gaudy things, keeps it elegant and classy and he respected that, ok who is he kidding? he thought. Joe‘s disgust for trashy things and the want to be authentic and real was adorable and sexy as hell. A sigh escaped Jen’s mouth and than there was a long pause. ‚Uh oh, that bad, Lindley?‘ he asked suddenly his throat terribly dry, not sure if he wanted to get a response from his dear blonde friend next to him. Jen also liked being real and true at all times and usually he admired her for that but today he hopes she’s gentle on him. Jen looked at him and back down to the glass counter where Hilary the sales assistant placed the ring for them to view and her face was not showing any sort of emotion, she looked blank. ‚Listen...Jen...there is still time, I can return it and you...YOU are a women of many tastes, you can help me making the RIGHT decision!‘ He felt  frantic, his palms were sweating as he took he reaction as a sign, that this ring was a terrible pick. She finally looked up at him and her face lid up. ‚Oh my god...Pace....this is the most, beautiful ring I have ever seen. Joey truly is a lucky girl!‘ Her voice trembled a little as the emotion kicked in and she hugged him tightly ‚You did well, Witter! ‘ I wonder...‚ What’s that? He asked, breaking their embrace, looking at her happily but confused raising a brow. ‚Does this ring come in a set with earrings, if so I’ll take them!‘ Jen said with a giggle. Pacey laughed at that remark and lightly slapped her shoulder. Ouch, Witter!!! He kissed her head and logged his arm through hers leaving the shop after he paid his deposit. At the train station the clock just outside the station tower read 9:58am. Great 2 more minutes, I am not late. 

He quickly checked the arrival table on the monitor and was glad that the train was on time before he made his short way to the platform. With that he heard the chuffing sound of the fast train approaching the platform slowing down until it came to a noisy halt. Passenger‘s got off the train, restricting his view, so he tiptoed and bend his neck. It took him a few moments and he saw her. His heart pounded fast in his chest. It was only a few days ago that they been together but his body reacted like he hasn’t seen her for weeks, months or even years. She stepped off the train, holding onto a small beige hard shell travel trolley with her right hand. She wore a tie front puff sleeve midi dress in light blue with matching hairband holding her hair in a ponytail and white leather sandals with block heel. Each movement made the dress show off her long silky tanned legs. She still hasn’t spotted him, looking from left to right, a puzzled look on her face that made her mouth pout. 

Ohh those lips he thought. He could tell she didn’t bother with make up, only a little bit of mascara, a little rogue to make her cheeks glow peachy and a colourless chapstick is all she would use, she was the most beautiful girl he ever laid eyes on and he was glad she finally grown in confidence to see herself not just as a too tall woman with long limbs and feels comfortable in her skin. The tie front of her dress was open a little and he could faintly guess where her chest bone would turn into the bulge of her breasts.  His heart skipped a beat and he manoeuvred the best he could into her direction without being seen. She fumbled on the zipper of her trolley standing with her bare back to him. He reached for her waist while his other hand went to her neck placing little kisses onto the bare skin underneath her hairline.  ‘Hello gorgeous!’ ‘Mmmm’ was the only vocabulary escaping her lips. She leaned into him, eyes closed and smiling her big smile that drove him insane. 

He felt her ass rotating and grinding into his hard bulge ‘Ahhh, Pace happy to see me?’  and suddenly his khaki shorts felt way too tight. His hands holding onto her arms for stability he whispered into her ear, nibbling her lobe and finally resting his chin on her shoulder ‘Ohh Jo, you have no idea. I wouldn’t like anything more than to pull up that fabric of your dress and take you right here, right now giving by passengers a show of their life time.‘

With that he swirled her around and let her fall into his arms, looking deeply in her dark brown eyes. ‘God I missed you, Potter!’ ‘I missed you so much, my sweetheart!’ she whispered back. There it was. Just like that he was on fire. She licked her lips. Her way of saying that she is ready to be kissed. He didn’t need an Invitation to place his lips on hers. Their lips met and she opened just a little to let him in and he darted his tongue around her full mouth, stifling her moan by dancing with her tongue tip. She opened her mouth wider and he took all of her tongue, sucking on it, releasing her and sucking her tip once again, breaking free for air.

‘Let me take you home, before Doug gets send here for sexual assault in public!’ Um, yeah probably not a good idea to be stars of Capeside journal as ‘horny couple set off at train station!’ she said with an amused wink at him. They went for a quick early lunch at the ice house before heading arm in arm to the beach house. Oh my god, Pace you really went trough with it? She gestured at the outdoor shower in the garden as soon as they arrived. This is so cool. It’s not just cool but also practical in the summer after a long shift in the restaurant. Here let me show you. The shower was attached to white wooden panels with hanging baskets for toiletries, soaps, hair care, sponges and even a back rub. Two big yellow towels occupied two of the four metal hooks. The floor was made of deep blue and green mosaics and an anti slip finish. It had a long bench at the side with futon pillows where the water couldn’t reach. For privacy the shower area was secluded by it’s own 8 ft. garden fence made of thick hazel hurdle woven wattle with bushy leafy planters in front of it. The top was free but Joey noticed a handle at the side and a large panel above. ‘What’s that for?’ she wondered.

  Ohh this is for chillier evenings to keep the rain out. He turned the handle and a retractable yellow thick shade pulled out. This looks just like...

...the sail of True Love?  he finished her sentence, smiling at her. Yes, Joey it’s the same material I used for true love since it’s weather resistance and I like to feel being out of sea while having a shower outside. He smirked. I understand Pace, once a Captain always a Captain. She chuckled. I haven’t used it yet since it just got finished two days ago. But the water is on...here...step back, I’ll show you!   Joey stepped back and he turned the shower on.  Warm water splashed from the shower head. He was about to turn the shower off but Joey laid his hand on his. 

‘Leave it on Pace!’

She unfastened her sandals, slipped them off and untied her hairband. It took him a moment to register what she was doing. He closed the gate and she came towards him, started to unbutton his shirt looking him straight in his eyes. ‘I want to shower with you and feel you!’ He lost his voice and was only able to mumble ‘God Joey, this is one of my fantasies of us!’ ‘I know it’s mine, too’ she replied. She yanked his dark grey shirt off his shoulders and placed it on one of the free hooks. His chest hairs stood in anticipation as she began licking his right nipple over to his left, making them stand. His breathing was now fast and he desperately  needed her out of her dress. She suckled on his now hard nipples and he was able to free her arms from the dress, letting it slip to the floor. She stepped out off the dress and tossed it to the side, now opening the zipper of his khakis, pulling the waistband down together with his boxers. A quick ‚Ahhh‘ escaped him. He stood naked in front of her and she let out a high pitched sigh. He was so handsome, his broad shoulders and wide chest, defined long legs and his glory of dark pubic hair and big cock standing to his attention solid for her. Just looking at him sends shivers down her spine to her centre. His size used to concern her but now she just feels all tingly inside looking at him, knowing how good he feels and what electric shocks she experiences when his full length fills her. Pacey went out of his shorts, kicked off his flip flops and pulled her by the slim line of her thin thong pulling her closer with his hands freeing her from the last shed of material that was between them. She reached for his cock and held him tight, kissing his slightly open mouth. He returned the kiss, moaning in her mouth meeting her dancing tongue with his.  ‘Mmmm Joey...I love it when you are in this mood, mmm....ahhhh....don’t stop.‘ Pacey was now fully under the shower, her hands rubbing up and down his shaft, his balls hard and heavy. I need to taste you, Pace. ‚I won’t last, Jo‘

‚Than don’t, sweetheart!‘ with that she pulled his skin to expose his juicy cherry and slowly went down as much as her mouth could take, her tongue sucking on the throbbing top, licking up and down his vein, increasing the speed. Ahhh...Fuck...Jo!! His hands got lost in her now wet hair, watching her moving mouth on him. He needed to focus on something else to not burst right there and than. She felt him edging in her mouth, droplets of his salty pre-cum making her vagina quiver. Cupping his full sack, she released his length to take his hard marbles in, licking and sucking on the crinkly skin. ‘Jo, I am so close.’ This was the best foreplay. She was so wet and wanted him to shoot but couldn’t decide where she wanted it. She went fully in the warmth of the shower now. Sitting on the floor, opening her legs as wide as she could, pulling him down with her. Her vagina was on full display, her lips open to show her meaty flesh and her clit erect standing out like a flower bud. Her breath was pitchy, her eyes heavy with lust. She started moving her index and middle finger around her clit, masturbating with swift and fast movements. Jo, you are everybody’s wet dream. You are so gorgeous. He was wanking his cock hard, looking at her delicate flower, kissed her, watched her touching herself,  her nipples equally beautiful and erect. This view was all he needed and with a long ‘ahhh Jo, my sweet giiiiirllll, ahhhh...he finally exploded, his load hitting her hard on her open center. She used his juices to rub herself, hissing at the feeling that build in her. He could see her ecstasy, still panting he went down, his nose touching her soft folds so juicy and inviting like a piece of fruit. Her smell mixing with his juices, he inhaled and flickered his tongue out founding her hard clit, his fingers replacing hers, entering her slowly, not letting go off her clit to than lick up and down her slit. Ahhh, Pacey, Yes...there...yes...faster, fuck me harder.

God, what went into her? His cock hardening again, he moved her over to the soft padded bench for her to kneel on. With her ass in the air like that, her hard nipples on standing up and her breasts bouncing, he shoved his hot length in one fast thrust and she cried out ‘Yes, Pace, oh god yes, take me. Don’t hold back. I need it!’ He thrust in and out, hard and forceful, each stroke making her reach closer to the edge. Come for me baby, he said now holding onto her tits, pulling her nipples, thrusting harder like there was no tomorrow.

She was now shrieking  

Ahhh... Ohhh.... God.... yes.....yes.... Ahhhh...FUCK....I...Uhh...Ohhh...fuck....Pace....yes

He felt her walls tightening around him....she came like a tornado and with her last quiver, he pushed into her one last time, releasing his hot fluid, collapsing onto her back, trying to fetch his breath. 

She was a hot mess...giggling...after 10 minutes or so...

Pace? Yes, Jo? ‘Let’s take a shower now.’ 

With that he pulled her up, squirting the almond and milk shower gel on the sponge, starting on soaping her arms and shoulders, with a smirk on his lips he said huskily.

‘Your wish is my command, my sweet sexy kitten!’ 

And just like that her nipples lifted up again. Her not breaking his gaze responded with a wide sheepish smile

‘Ohh boy!’ To Be Continued

[dettiot]

happy fifth anniversary

For the first four years of their marriage, their anniversary hadn’t been a big deal. They had never been able to be together on the anniversary itself, and Padme guessed that Anakin, with his upbringing, had little knowledge about anniversary celebrations.

But now, they were together. They could commemorate their wedding and celebrate openly. And Padme wanted to do that.  

Padme planned everything out. She would get a lovely meal delivered from one of the few restaurants Anakin liked, one that wouldn’t prompt him to remark that he could have cooked better food. And she researched the traditional anniversary gift for five years, and felt incredibly grateful when she discovered it was wood. Because she knew just what to get Anakin. 

On their anniversary, Ahsoka came over at mid-day and convinced Anakin to help with her speeder. Later in the day, Padme took the twins to Obi-Wan and Satine’s apartment for the evening, then hurried home to clean up and change into a flowing, soft dress in a shade of blue she knew Anakin liked. 

When Anakin came home, he found her stretched out on the couch. He smiled brightly at her. “Hey, angel,” he said, leaning down and kissing her cheek, keeping his greasy hands far from her. 

“Hello,” she smiled back at him. “So I have a surprise for you.” 

“Oh?” he asked, looking around. “Wait, where’s the twins?” 

“That’s part of the surprise,” she said, standing up and stroking his face. “It’s our anniversary.” 

Anakin frowned. “Anniversary?” 

Padme nodded. “Yes. Five years ago, we got married.” 

“And . . . we celebrate that?” 

She smiled softly at him. “It’s traditional, but not necessary. I just thought . . . we can do all the traditional things now. Like asking Obi-Wan and Satine to babysit the twins for the evening, while we have dinner together.” 

He still looked a bit confused, but he smiled at her. “That’s pretty nice of them. And I won’t turn down the chance to spend time with you.” 

“I hope you’d feel that way,” Padme said, kissing him lightly. “Go take a shower, and the food will be here any minute.” 

“I coulda cooked,” he half-grumbled. 

Padme couldn’t help grinning widely at how well she knew her husband, in spite of their non-traditional marriage. “I know, but I wanted us to relax tonight.” 

“All right, angel,” he said, brushing his nose against hers. “Be right back.” 

When Anakin went to the refresher, Padme quickly got out her present for Anakin and set it on the table in front of the sofa. After only a few minutes, her husband returned, dressed in a fresh tunic and with clean hands. 

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the large item wrapped in bright paper. 

“That is an anniversary present for us.” 

Anakin’s face fell. “We’re supposed to give each other presents?” 

“Easy, love,” she said, stroking his arms. “You didn’t know, and I knew that. Besides, this is a present for both of us.” 

“I don’t understand how it could be for both of us?” he asked, tilting his head to one side.

Padme smiled. “Open it up and see.” 

He gave her a skeptical look, but slowly reached out and carefully unwrapped the gift. He frowned as he took in the chunk of wood, then his mouth dropped open and his eyes locked on hers. 

“Is this--?”

“Japor wood, yes,” she said, coming over to crouch beside him. “I thought you could carve me another pendant. Or anything you’d like. And there’s enough here for you to maybe make carvings for Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and the twins . . .”

She had to stop because Anakin was hugging her so hard, she felt breathless. Or maybe it was from the warm rush of emotions he sent her through the Force: love and happiness and overwhelming gratitude. 

“I love you, too,” Padme said, kissing his temple. “Happy anniversary, Anakin.” 

He pressed his face against her neck. “Happy anniversary, Padme.”

My Star Wars fic masterlist

[saieras]

I’m proud of you, kid

Summary: On the 1-year anniversary after the Snap, Tony, Pepper, and May deal with their losses and remember who and what they are fighting for.

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T

Notes: This fic is based on an incredible piece of fan-art I saw the other day, about Tony and Pepper having a baby, and giving him a Spider-Man doll to play with.

Art is by 茗牌耳钉 on Weibo.

EDIT: he/she has Twitter as well!

Also on FF & AO3.

I hope you enjoy the read~

————————————————————

April. The first sneak peek of spring, the first month of slush-free roads. Central Park, turning green.

Tony Stark hovered over the city, his helmet open. The wind was brisk at this height, so he had a little trouble keeping his eyes open, but he wanted to see the colors with his own eyes. It was a lovely Saturday, and millions milled about the streets and avenues below. Madison Square was packed to the brim.

He flew a short distance over to Washington Square Park. It was similarly filled. He was at roughly the same altitude as the Empire State building, so doubtless the throngs pulsing below could see him well and clear. Without the suit's visual feed, Tony couldn't make out the individual faces as they peered up at him.

He imagined they must be cursing him.

Nonetheless, his vantage point afforded Tony a veil of sorts, a barrier vast enough to block out the sounds below. It was peaceful and good — this was his city, and he was her protector, standing high and mighty in the clouds.

… Hiding, low and broken, behind his worthless armor, suffocating under an avalanche of shame.

“Boss,” FRIDAY said, “you're going to be late if you don't start heading — ” 

“I know,” Tony said. He closed his eyes. The nanobots obeyed his thoughts, reforming the helmet over his head, and a second later Tony breathed in the familiar filtered air. It used to make him feel invincible, this clean, sterile smell. Now every breath was a reminder.

“I know,” he said again. He took one last look at the restored Washington Square Arch beneath him. “Let's go.”

————————————————————

It was a nice and quiet place with impressive views of the city's skyline. Not many of the residents were new, so there were relatively few visitors. Tony landed in an out-of-the-way little garden, making sure he wasn't seen. The armor disintegrated and rolled itself back into his chest.

He took a deep breath. It smelled like flowers. Oh, he'd forgotten to bring flowers.

He donned his shades, as if they protected him from the scrutinizing stares as he walked the short distance over. He had only been here once, but he knew the place well — he'd visited, after all, more times than he could count, in BARF and in his dreams.

Three people were already there; a girl, a boy, a woman. The grass beneath his feet rustled to herald his arrival. Tony willed himself to not flinch as they looked up.

“Mr. Stark,” May Parker said. There was not an ounce of surprise in her tone… in fact, there was not an ounce of anything in her tone. Tony wished there was. He wished she would curse, scream, cry, seethe. Anything.

“May —“ he began.

“Please call me Mrs. Parker,” the woman said.

“Right,” Tony muttered. He was a fool. He couldn't do this. He stared up at the blue sky, and wanted nothing more than to materialize the suit and fly away.

“Mr. Stark?” piped a timid voice. Tony looked over to see the boy in the group, a chubby Asian holding a Lego Millennium Falcon, stealing a glance at him. As their gazes met, the boy averted his eyes — bloodshot and rimmed with red, Tony noticed.

All the same, the boy shuffled aside.

“Are you going to… uh, join us?” he asked, voice even smaller than before.

“Ah,” Tony said. He squeezed out a smile. “Yes. Thank you, Ned.”

The boy looked astounded that he'd remembered his name. Tony stepped up a little, and gave a brief nod to the girl now beside him.

“And you must be… Michelle, right?”

Michelle blinked and shrugged. “Mmhmm,” she said, obviously every bit as surprised as Ned, though rather better at feigning nonchalance.

Tony hated how he had to act as if he was asking — as if he wouldn't know the names of the kid's best friends.

As if he didn't know the names of every member of the Midtown Tech Decathlon team.

As if he hadn't memorized the names of every person who bothered to show up to the service. Not that there were many — the kid hadn't exactly been popular in school.

Nothing else was said after that. May Parker had closed her eyes, and Ned was muttering something under his breath, clutching his Lego piece. Michelle was looking over towards Manhattan, her jaws tight.

Tony fought the urge to look up again at the sky. Two point three six billion lightyears away, there was a decaying planet called Titan, in a whole other galaxy still undiscovered by NASA… at least that was what the blue-green android woman had told him.

He clenched his hands into fists. Breathe in, breathe out. He repeated this ten times before finally, with a light jerk of his head, his gaze settled on the stenciled letters.

Peter Benjamin Parker, 2001-2018

A loving nephew, a best friend, and always our hero

Mr. Stark? I don't feel so good…

I don't want to go…

Sorry.

The sound that escaped his throat was something Tony did not expect. Suddenly, all he could see in front of him was dust, and dust, and more dust, blowing on the brown and tattered landscape. It wasn't until he heard Ned's surprised shouts that he noticed the helmet forming around his head.

Tony allowed himself a second of respite inside cocoon of filtered air, where the world could not see him break — where the world only saw the red and gold mask, forever strong.

Then he willed the nanobots to disassemble.

All three of them were staring at him when his skin once again touched the free air. Tony tried to speak, tried to crack a joke — he had to take a call from the company — always at the worst time, am I right?

But then May Parker said, “It's okay. I'm here with you.”

And Tony simply collapsed in front of the headstone, his fingers gliding over the smooth surface, etching out each letter. Behind him, May put her hand on his shoulder, and Tony was glad she was there, glad because she too understood what it felt like to have your soul ground and pulverized until it was a colossal vacuum that could never be filled, not by all the happiness in the universe.

When he screamed, he took what little comfort in knowing she was beside him, walking every step of this hell with him. Her fingers on his shoulder tightened, and for a moment they were linked through that eternal pain; that void of a parent losing a child.

————————————————————

May had brought a plate of her signature walnut date loafs, and a few other new recipes she'd wanted for Peter to try. Ned had brought the Lego, naturally. Michelle had brought a sketchbook. Tony noticed how thin it looked; more than half the pages had been ripped out, and the cover looked splattered. For a moment Tony imagined the skinny girl, sitting alone in her room, the drip-drip-drip of her tears soaking through her sketches.

Tony wished he'd remembered to bring flowers. He wished he'd remembered to bring something. Hastily he downloaded a model of a flower, and ported it to the nano-assembly algorithms. Soon a miniature white rose grew out of the palm of his hand, glinting in its metallic sheen. The display had been enough to captivate Ned, who seemed to have temporarily forgotten his grief.

Looking at the boy's face was like a gut punch. That same wonder, that same curiosity. That same fascination and youthful enthusiasm. Peter made that face often, pretty much whenever Tony allowed him inside the lab or workshop.

What Tony wouldn't give to see that face again, just one more time.

Gently he laid the flower down in front of the headstone, next to the others' gifts. It landed with a small clink.

“Do you have a place to be?” May asked. Her voice seemed hoarse, but somehow softened.

He did. He had other memorial events to attend. He planned to make a visit to Happy's family, as well as Sam's. He had a meeting with Hank Pym and the rest of the Avengers.

He needed to get back to Pepper and their boy.

“No,” he said. “I've got a while.”

“Eat with us,” she said. “We — we were going to Peter's favorite Thai place.”

“That sounds fantastic.”

“I'll tell you where it is, and you can meet us —“

“No. I'll ride with you guys.”

May nodded. She lingered a few seconds more, before bending down and kissing the headstone. Ned gave it a squeeze, hard enough his stubby fingers turned white. Michelle… Michelle didn't do anything. But Tony knew if she touched that stone, she would shatter.

“Are you coming, Mr. Stark?” May asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just — give me a minute.”

He waved them ahead. When he was sure they were out of sight, he knelt down and hugged the headstone tight.

“I miss you, kid,” he said. “You know that? I really — really miss you.”

He choked down the lump in his throat.

“I'm so proud of you, Pete,” he whispered, and for this small moment, he allowed himself to crumble.

————————————————————

The Thai food was very good, but Tony was forced to cut their lunch out a bit short. He thanked May, and Ned and Michelle, for allowing him to intrude. It surprised them, and himself too, because that was so very unlike him.

But then May had given him a smile — a small smile, but a genuine one.

“Peter would've wanted you here,” she said simply.

Tony turned and pretended to watch the TV.

“I heard you had a baby,” May remarked when their table fell silent.

“Ah, yes,” Tony mused, not knowing why she changed the topic, but grateful to pivot. “Not my best creation, to be honest — all he can do at the moment is cry and poop and eat. Even Dum-E is a little better in —“

“Thank you,” May said.

Tony paused.

“Yes, the world often does,” he said finally, chuckling awkwardly. “But I've gotta admit, I don't know why you are —“

Tentatively, May squeezed his hands. Tony flinched at the touch, but didn't pull away.

“Tony,” she said. “Thank you.”

She knows, he thought. He hadn't intended her to know. He worried that she might think of it as an affront. He thought maybe she'd think he didn't deserve it; didn't have the right to use that name. But here she was, thanking him.

“Yeah,” he said, not trusting his face. “I guess I have the paparazzi to thank. Honestly, you'd think they have more important things to report on — Anyway, I got to go, there's —“

“Wait!“ May's grip on his hand tightened a little. She rummaged around in her purse before pulling out a tangle of red and blue fabric. “I — I was making — I was making this, and I…“ She trailed off, and just put the thing on the table between them.

It was a spider-man doll. Coarsely made at first glance, but Tony picked out the little scabs on May's fingers, dots of dark red. Suddenly, he recalled Peter mentioning once how she couldn't sew or knit to save her life.

'And other people were like, aren't aunts supposed to sew you stuff? And I'm like, not May!'

'Kid, could we save the topic for when you're not literally being sewn up?'

'It distracts me from the pain, Mr. Stark. Ow. Are you really sure I can't use anesthetics?'

The memory brought a bittersweet smile to Tony's lips. He picked up the small doll.

“Thank you for making this for him,” he said, his voice solemn.

“I meant it as a gift to celebrate him finishing junior year,” May said softly. “But I never seemed to get around to it, and then… last year, when that… I just stopped working on it.”

Tony's mouth felt dry. “So why did you finish it now, after all this time?”

May shrugged.

“Because we're still here,” she said. “Because we're the only ones who remember Peter as spider-man. Because we owe it to him to pass it on.” She paused, before giving Tony a brief smile. “That's why it's not for our Peter.”

Tony frowned. “Our Peter?” but then he got it.

It was for his Peter.

Tony took the doll and lowered his head, so neither May nor the two kids could see his eyes. Then he stood up, and let the suit spread over his skin. He ignored the gasps and cries of surprise from the other customers. He made sure to keep the doll in a safe compartment.

“Thank you,” he said. With the suit, he could be sure his voice didn't sound too-tight. “Thank you, May.”

She smiled again. “Say hello to him for me.”

He nodded, stepped out of the restaurant, and took off.

————————————————————

“What's up, Mr. Stark?” Peter called out as he bounded into the lab. “What are you working on?”

Tony, being Tony, didn't answer. Instead he gave a vague wave of his hand and dumped the current design blueprints onto Peter's Starkphone. Peter was used to this, so he happily hopped onto a Hulkbuster model, and began swiping through the information.

“Woah,” he said, grasping the gist in barely a minute — brilliant, as usual. “You're trying to create a nano-arc reactor with vibranium at its core! That's so cool!“

“Trying is the key word, kid,” Tony said fondly. “Don't think it'll happen in the near future, not unless I can convince Wakanda to share some of its technologies and resources.”

“I'd like to go to Wakanda sometime,” Peter said wistfully.

“You and me both, kid. I even hear they have a Princess your age. Come on, get down from there, Hulkbuster's not something to play on.”

“Hmm,” Peter said, reading further into the file and ignoring Tony's admonishment. “Mr. Stark, do you think the vibranium could work as an alloy or does it have to be pure?”

“We'll have to try to make do with an alloy, otherwise it'll never be feasible. I swear, it's more expensive than that thing from what's-that-film, the one with the blue people —“

“Avatar,” Peter said. “And it was called unobtainium. But they could've come up with a better name, at least!“ the teen plopped down on the Hulkbuster's head, draping himself over the eyes. “Hey FRIDAY, can I get something to drink? I'm so parched.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Parker. Milk or OJ? Or perhaps beer? We have whiskey, too.”

“FRIDAY,” Tony warned.

“Sorry, Boss.”

“OJ, please,” Peter said, too engrossed in the data to notice the banter. Tony smiled and shook his head.

“By the way, kid,” he added. “Tell me when you're finished reading that. I've got a project for ya.”

“Really?” the teen said, looking up — looking down — at Tony, at once bubbling with excitement. “I'm done reading! What's the project ab—“

The boy's voice stopped. Slowly, the lab faded away. Tony stood up from where he had been watching and looked around, somewhat disoriented. A second later he spotted Pepper at the door, arms crossed.

“You have a meeting tonight,” she said.

“Yes,” he said, blinking away the bright lights. “Very astute, Mrs. Stark.”

“You told me you were taking a nap.”

“I woke up.”

“You said you weren't going to use BARF anymore.”

“I wasn't. FRIDAY must have forced it on me.”

“Boss…“

“Leave her out of this,” Pepper snapped. “Tony, you can't keep doing this. Especially not today. You promised.”

“Stark promises aren't worth very much,” Tony said, chuckling. “Runs in the family.”

Pepper strode over and yanked him to her. Then she kissed him.

“Come on; if you aren't going to sleep, and it doesn't appear you are, let's go check on little Mo. He's gonna wake up soon.”

Mr. Stark knew there was no use in arguing with Mrs. Stark at the moment, so he sighed and allowed her to grab his hand. She guided him over to their room, where a high-tech crib stood in the corner, monitoring everything from vitals to blood sugar to the state of the diapers.

Tony peered down at his sleeping son. “Morgan,” he whispered softly. “Morgan. Morgan Peter Stark.”

The full name alone sent him to the edge. Pepper patted his back, as if she could soothe his tensed muscles back down.

“The best Stark there ever was,” she joked. Tony kissed her.

“I met May Parker today,” he said, not wanting to leave the warmth of her lips. “She… she knows of Mo.”

“Well, the entire world knows we had a baby,” Pepper said, smiling.

“No, Pepper.” Tony said. “She knew his name… she knew his middle name.”

“Oh,” Pepper said. Her hands stopped caressing his back. “There must have been a leak. Damn it, they've been digging for the baby's name for months — those press people will never let go once they sniff out a story. Tony, I'm so sorry, I know you didn't want her to know, I'll get someone to check where it got out —“

“She thanked me,” Tony said, cutting her off. “I — I named my son after Pete, without telling her, and she thanked me. Jesus, Pepper, what did I do to deserve to be — I killed him. I killed him, and she thanked me.”

“You didn't kill him,” she said.

“I couldn't — I tried to protect him —“

“Tony…“ Pepper said.

“I put everything I could think of into that suit,” Tony continued. “I tried, Pepper, I thought I was ready — I couldn't —“

“Tony, please —“

Tony turned away from the crib, feeling like he couldn't breathe. “I couldn't,” he croaked out. “I couldn't protect him. I watched him disa—“

“Anthony Stark!“ Pepper shouted. “Stop that right now! You didn't kill him, you hear me? You did not kill him.”

Tony was trembling all over. He knew she would kiss him, so he let the kiss happen. Pepper's fingers dug into his palm.

“Breathe,” she said. “That's it, Tony. Breathe in. Breathe out.”

Gradually Tony was able to gather himself, like grasping the shards of a glass house and putting it back together… piece by painstaking piece. Pepper combed his hair, pressing him to her, whispering encouragements all the while. Finally Tony gave a low chuckle, exhausted.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“We're always here for you,” she replied. “Mo and I.”

Tony kissed her. He looked down at his sleeping son. “Mo wouldn't be here without him, you know.”

“I know,” Pepper said, resting her head on his shoulder. “I know.”

They stood by the crib for several minutes, just listening to the steady quiet breathing. Tony reached down to nuzzle the baby's rosy cheeks.

It wasn't long before Mo began to stir. Tony withdrew his hand, abashed, but Pepper laughed.

“It's okay,” she said. “He should be waking up around now anyway.” She reached down to tickle the little tummy, and the baby's dark eyes popped open. “Hey Mo!“ Pepper said. “Look who's here? Daddy's here.”

Mo's plump little face beamed at Pepper upon hearing her voice. Then he turned his head towards Tony, and chortled.

“Hey Mo,” Tony said. “Hey.”

We owe it to him to pass it on, May had said.

For our Peter. For my Peter.

Tony closed his eyes, and reached into his coat pocket to pull out the spider-man doll.

“Tony?” Pepper said. “Tony, what's that?”

“May Parker made it,” Tony replied wearily. “She wanted Mo to have it.”

“Wow! That's adorable!“ Pepper took the doll from him, and moved the arms as if she were controlling a marionette. She made the doll wave. “Hi, Mo!“ she said as she peered down at the baby. “I'm spider-man! And I hear you're a very brave boy.”

Mo let out an incoherent noise of interest, and reached up for the doll. Pepper let his tiny hands grab the doll's arm, and Mo's grip tightened instantly, as if making introductions. Pepper laughed and tickled the baby a bit more.

Tony watched them play together. He tried to ingrain the moment in his memory, but all he could think was, I wish you were here, kid.

I wish you were here, Pete.

Once again, credit to the artist ~

[pendulumprince]

Title: Storge

Characters: Aoi Zaizen, Akira Zaizen

Pairings: N/A

Summery: "I love you.”

“That’s nice”

(Or: a glimpse into why Aoi and Akira are the way they are.)

Notes: As has been said before, 95% of YGO parents are shitty, dead or both so I decided to keep up with the tradition.

I wrote this up a few days after I published Heroine (so around six months ago) and just recently unearthed it again. Finally decided to stop being a baby and publish it. 

TW for emotional neglect, postpartum depression, suicide, implied alcoholism, and transphobia.

"Father, you know I… love you, right?"

They road in the back of his father's limousine, divider up between them and their chauffeur. Saying the words aloud made Akira's throat hum. His feelings had been safe in his mind; to thrust them into reality left him exposed in a way his father was apt to prey upon.

He had spent the night before thinking about the mother he never knew. His father refused to entertain any extended conversations about her, which made conjuring up a personality hard. There were only a few pictures of her left, and she was a radically different woman in each of them.

Akira never would have believed it if he weren't living proof of the relationship, but his father married a police officer. Her official work portrait was the only picture of her that couldn't fit into one of their storage boxes, so his father kept it face down on the floor instead. He hated having to put it back in that position whenever he was done looking at it, because how could such a magnificent portrait be hidden from the world? In it she sat with her shoulders snapped back, staring into the camera lens with the curious and open look of the "good cop" luring her suspects into a false sense of security. She sat with her hands in her lap, left hand over her right, and Akira just knew she did that to show off her wedding ring. Was his mother vain enough to want to flaunt the prominent diamond? Or was she simply proud of the love she and his father shared?

Because he knew that they loved each other. There was an old snapshot of the two of them together on their first date, before she was a cop and he was a king. They had gone to some restaurant downtown and were seated side-by-side, the booth's garish upholstery gleaming plastic in the florescent lights. The food before them was piled high in plastic trays and shined wet with oil. It made Akira nauseous just looking at it, but his parents didn't seem to mind. His mother's face was split open into a grin so wide that her eyes were nearly closed against the apples of her cheeks. She was only nineteen, but her teeth were already stained a dull yellow. Her blush came through as uneven splotches that contrasted harshly against her pale skin. But his father—his inscrutable, impossible-to-please father—had his arm around her shoulders anyway, his cheek resting against the top of her head. He smiled in a way Akira never saw for himself. He was enchanted by that tenement girl.

And then there was the picture of her at the party celebrating LUNA's ten year anniversary. Surrounded by smartly dressed business associates, she wore a green sequin dress that was so endearingly gaudy that it made Akira feel warm inside. He liked to think it was a conscious decision, a refusal to conform to the world her husband was eager to join despite their working-class background. In the picture she had one hand on her hip and clutched a glass of wine in the other. Shimmering in the soft yellow lights, she smiled toothily and winked at the camera. And Akira supposed she still could still smile that way, since he hadn't been born yet.

There was only one picture of the two of them, taken after they brought him home from the hospital as a newborn. They were seated together on one of the antique sofas his father so loved. Akira was clearly visible in the shot, but his mother had her face turned away from the camera. She ate her work gun six weeks later. His birth had been the trigger, and he would have blamed himself for everything if not for the little message she left him. On the back of that photograph were three words, written in her loopy handwriting: love you, sweetie.

He first found the message when he was six years old, and in an instant his heart swelled with love for the mother he never knew. But when that happy feeling died down, he realized with the slow sinking of his heart that while his dead mother loved him, his living father never once told him anything of the kind.

The man relentlessly mocked any "whining" he attempted, so he knew better than to ask for love. Instead, he set out to earn it. He rose to the top of his class. He dressed with class and spoke with perfect diction. There was never a hair out of place. There was hardly ever a strong expression of emotion. He strived to be the sort of child worthy of affection, and to that end he could wait. He could wait. He could wait he could wait he could—

By fourteen he still hadn't received a word of tenderness from his father, and when his yearning became too great he would think about his mother, and her special message to him, and how it made him feel. But one night it dawned on him: his father had to be waiting for him to express his love first! Of course! The unbreakable King of LUNA never showed any vulnerability, and what could be more intimate than expressing your love for someone? Akira knew he had to show his father it was okay. He would open his heart first, and surely that would work, wouldn't it?

"Father, you know I… love you, right?"

The man kept his steely gaze fixed ahead. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

He hummed. "That's nice."

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

Even at five years old, Aoi knew a couple things about her daddy.

He was a musician. The instruments he could play outnumbered the ones he couldn't. He released a couple of CDs, but Aoi never heard him playing on that radio. But that was okay, she wanted daddy's voice all to herself.

She only had one picture of him, hidden at the bottom of her toy box so her mom wouldn't see it and rip it up. He was playing his guitar, right hand wrapped around the neck of the instrument, fingers pressed up against the cords. He wore thin silver rings on each of his fingers, even his thumb. His left hand was captured mid-strum, blurred in motion, and Aoi liked to imagine that he was playing one of the songs she liked best.

Her daddy's hair was the color of the sky, but his eyes were brown like hers. They looked so soft, lovingly gazing at the crowd before him, like he wrote and composed and labored over the song just for them. That was the look of a father, right? Surely he would look at her that way when they finally got the chance to meet. He'd have to, because the only thing her mom ever told her about him was that he loved his music more than anything else. Aoi loved his music too, so he'd love her back, right? Like he loved all his fans. Of course it would be like that.

She met him once before he drank himself into oblivion and tumbled off the edge of the pier. She and her soon-to-be-brother were at her soon-to-be-stepfather's company, in the room off the side of his office. She was coloring, with Akira periodically commenting on her efforts while he did his homework. She'd been absorbed in her work, until she heard the most wonderful, most beautiful, most melodic voice—

"Geez girl, you're really movin' on up in the world!"

Aoi stopped mid crayon stroke.

"Not all of us can live fifteen years in the past." A pause, the shuffling of paper. "Here. My attorney marked off where you need to sign."

"And you're gonna give me what you promised, right?"

"You'll receive your compensation," her soon-to-be-stepfather stepped in.

She got up from her seat. She needed to see him, to look into eyes the same color as hers. Behind her, she could hear Akira set his book aside. "Aoi…"

"Goddamn, you're making this sound like some sorta business transaction."

The King of LUNA scoffed. "Isn't it?"

"Stop." Her mother interceded. "Let's just get this over with."

Aoi made it up to the door. In front of her soon-to-be-stepfather's desk stood a spindly man dressed in black. Even at a distance she could catch the scent of stale cigarettes, and she instantly loved the smell just as much as she loved him.

Her daddy was bent over the documents, and she could see the bumps his spine poke out from beneath his too-tight shirt. He signed off with his left hand, and Aoi thought that was so special. When he set the pen down she could see the trembling in his hands.

She wandered out the front door, and made it two steps before Akira caught her by the upper arm. "Come Aoi, let's go back inside—"

Without looking back she pulled away, walking over to the crowd of adults. "Daddy?"

The man turned around. He looked much older than he did in the picture. He had crows-feet at the corners of his brown eyes, lines etched around his mouth, and grey hair threaded through his blue locks. His face twisted into a grimace. "Why's our boy wearing a dress?"

Oh. Oh.

"Goodness, you mistook your daughter for a son. How does one do that, exactly?" her soon-to-be-stepfather drawled. He sounded like he was bored. "But I suppose you wouldn't know her that well, this is the second time you've ever seen her.

Her daddy was still looking at her mom. "I know this isn't our kid."

Her mom had been staring at the ground, but her head shot up at that remark. Her blue-grey eyes were glistening, "How could you say that? She has your eyes!"

"He."

"She!" Her brother shot back from behind her.

The King of LUNA stared at the other man with soulless eyes. "I fail to see why this matters to you. You've relinquished your parental rights." He slid a smaller piece of paper across his desk. "It was a pleasure doing business. You can see yourself out."

She swore her daddy’s eyes grew a shade darker when he saw that piece of paper. He slowly picked it up and held it at eye level. "Goddamn," he smirked. "I never thought I'd see this many zeros on a check."

"Get out!" her mother roared.

As soon as they got home her mom hid herself away in her bedroom, and the man she was going to marry followed in soon after. Aoi couldn't hear what they were saying, so she went to her room and laid down on her side, trying to visually trace the pattern of her floral wallpaper through her blurred vision. And when she started started to cry for real, she buried her face in her pillow. She didn't want them to know.

How could daddy—not daddy, that guy—do that to her in front of her new family? Didn't she look pretty? Did some men just not want daughters? Why didn't he want her? She wanted him for so long, staring at that stupid picture and dreaming of the day he'd sing a song just for her. But he wouldn't. He didn't love her and made it so that no one else would, either. If the person she got her eyes from didn't love her, how could anyone else?

Her thoughts fell further and further down this path—nobody loves me, nobody loves me, nobody loves me—when she felt someone place their hand on her back. She jumped, instinctively turning to face the source of contact.

It was Akira, who recoiled at her sudden movement. "Sorry, I was just calling for you. You didn't answer so I decided to check…" his brows furrowed. "Are you okay?"

Aoi wiped the tears and snot away with her sleeve. She tried to nod, but only wound up crying even harder.

Her soon-to-be-brother shifted his eyes away, worming his hands into his pockets. "Do you want a tissue?"

She shook her head.

"Some juice? Something to eat?"

She shook her head again, turning back away from him to face the wall.

"Okay." She expected him to leave, but he didn't. "You know Aoi, I'm really glad my dad is marrying your mom. Do you know why?"

Aoi chewed on her nail. Was it possible he still didn't know?

He continued. "Because all my life my dad has been my only family, and all he had was me. We were very lonely with each other." He paused, like he just then realized he was talking to someone with a mouth full of milk teeth. "Being lonely together… I guess that doesn't make much sense, does it?"

It didn't, but Aoi still turned back around to face him. He kneeled down so that they were at eye-level. "I guess I'm trying to say that I'm glad I get to be your brother. We can be there for each other in a way our parents aren't, or can't be. You... can't imagine how much that means to me." He smiled, but even Aoi could see the drop of pain in his expression. "I promise you'll always be my sister, no matter what anyone says."

Mom always said not to hug strangers, but Akira wasn't a stranger. They met three times already, and they were going to be brother and sister, and he knew and he still saw her the way she wanted to be seen—as she was. So she threw her arms around his shoulders, wiping her tears and snot onto his blazer. He didn't hug her back, but her soon-to-be stepfather never hugged anyone back either.

What was important was that he didn't push her away.

[accidental-ducky]

How Love Goes (Steter, Mortal Instruments AU)

Peter has seen the young warlock around the bookstore a few times before, usually browsing through the fantasy section while a Shadowhunter lurked nearby. He was handsome as far as warlocks go, little horns curling up from his forehead that only those with the Sight were able to see, and even then they were nearly obscured by his carefully styled brown hair.

The Shadowhunter with him wasn’t nearly so interesting, just a girl with distrusting eyes and the thick lines of Runes dotted here and there when clothing wasn’t obscuring them. The only interesting thing about her was the scent of an Alpha that clung to her, and there weren’t very many of those in California as a whole. In fact, there were only two and something told Peter that she wasn’t hanging around Deucalion.

Either way, Peter did his best to put the teenager out of his mind as he went back to the novel propped up on his knee. He had more pressing issues to worry about, like the fact that the Seelie Queen—bitch that she is—is demanding an audience with the leaders of certain groups of Downworlders. Peter would decline if he didn’t value his health and good looks so much.

Still, he finds himself tracking the boy’s movements from section to section until he reached the counter to pay for his finds. His jeans were tight in just the right way and Peter only felt a small flush of guilt as he eyed the boy’s round, perky ass. Of course, that’s the moment the boy decides to glance over his shoulder and meets Peter’s gaze head on.

And the warlock winks.

***

The next time he sees the warlock is as he’s leaving the Beacon Hills entrance to the Seelie Court, a small cove near the beach that Mundanes saw as a rundown hut. The boy was dressed to the nines in a shiny blue suit, hair stylishly messy and revealing those beautiful horns that glittered blue and green like a mermaid’s scales under the moonlight.

“Is your master sending you here in their place,” he teases, hands in the pockets of his own suit of charcoal gray. Black just didn’t look good on Peter, it made his aura something straight out of a Disney movie, and not in a favorable light either. “A chance for you to learn how the Seelie Queen is when she’s not happy?”

“Not quite,” the boy answers in a voice like honey. “I haven’t had a master since I was a kid.” Peter arches a brow, not subtle as his gaze moves from the boy’s horns to the ratty Converse he wore on his feet. “I’m six hundred years old. I know, it’s a shock to everyone that doesn’t already know.”

“A nice one, at least.” And the boy grins at him, cheeky and wonderful and Peter could live for that flash of white teeth. “I’m Peter.” He holds out a hand and the boy reaches out to shake it, a spark of something shooting through the wolf on contact and a static shock seems to rip through his chest as his eyes flash Alpha red. The boy’s eyes flash in return, fire bright before fading to their usual amber in sunlight.

“Stiles.”

***

Battles were hard things no matter your species, though why he was called to New York of all places could only be explained by the text his nephew had sent just twelve hours before. Sometimes it really sucked to like one’s family and their continued existence. And to make matters that much worse, the fight was on a goddamn boat and he was surrounded by all kinds of Shadowhunters.

The one good thing to come out of it was seeing Stiles in all his glory fighting alongside his Shadowhunter buddy. He was a force to behold, flinging spells every which way when he’s able or even just a bat with Runes burned into the wood to enhance its strength as he flings it left and right against the oncoming demons. The Shadowhunter wasn’t awful, he supposes, but he’s never been a fan of the Clave and all their rules.

After it was done and Derek’s reason for dragging him all the way here was rescued—a relatively young werewolf that had been meant to be sacrificed—Peter was intending to just go back to Derek’s apartment and sleep for seven hours and then go find Luke and have a drink. Things didn’t end up going that way, however, because Stiles was bleeding and his pet Shadowhunter looked ready to play a game of Murder Time with whatever had caused the deep scratch along the warlock’s cheek.

“I take it warlocks don’t have the best healing factor,” Peter snarks, sidling up to the pair with a smirk. The Shadowhunter went to step between the pair, but aborted the motion when Stiles touches her wrist.

“It’s alright, Ally. I know him.”

“So does everyone in the Institute,” Ally remarks, sending Peter a frown that more than hinted at I saw you at the Christmas party three years ago, you nasty fucker. And really, how was he supposed to know the punch had been spiked and that he’d end up banging a shifter named Peg in the women’s bathroom?

“Oh, that was you, huh? Very impressive, man.”

“I rather thought so,” Peter agrees, trying his best to ignore Ally. It wasn’t hard, not with the way the dawn light highlighted the small moles scattered over the left side of Stiles’ face in a way that made Peter want to follow that trail with his teeth.

“Peter,” yelled the familiar voice of Magnus Bane,” stop creeping on my protégé!”

***

So, it turns out that pale warlocks with amber eyes and magic bats are Peter’s type.

Who knew?

***

Stiles likes to smoke. It’s not really a big deal for Peter because Stiles’ just uses his magic to make the smoke scentless. Whenever Peter finds Stiles’ in the little park down the street from the school, the warlock is usually swinging slowly and blowing smoke rings. When he wants to show off, he’ll turn the billows of smoke into little ships or paw prints or, once, a triskelion.

Peter asked him why he smoked once, after he learned that Stiles had changed the cigarette’s taste to strawberries. “Because I like watching the smoke curl and dance,” he’d answered, doing just that as he turned the smoke shades of blue and bright red.

Sometimes he’d find Stiles just wandering through the town as though he was searching for something, smoke floating over his shoulder and grief in his scent. Peter never bothered him on those nights, just watched to make sure no one tried to sneak up on him while he was lost in his thoughts.

One night, the second one Stiles had ever spent with him, the warlock woke him up with a bitten off curse and it took Peter a moment to realize that the wriggling boy next to him was still deep in sleep. He writhed and twisted as though trying to escape, Polish rolling off his tongue as easy as English, calling and begging for his father to be saved.

When Peter had finally managed to get Stiles awake and convince him that he was safe, Stiles told him about the mother that had abandoned him after she realized her child wasn’t human; he told him about the father that fought and protected him through thick and thin until the man’s heart had given out. Then, in the early hours of the morning, he told Peter how his father had always smoked a pipe at night, how he’d blown smoke rings to Stiles’ delight and would always grin so proudly when Stiles managed to turn those rings into flowers.

After that, Peter never asked about Stiles’ obsession with smoking.

***

Their one year anniversary sneaks up on both of them and they only realize how momentous the day is when Stiles checks his Facebook and the memory of their first date pops up in his feed. Their first date had been the thing of legends, the one you tell future generations about because it had been perfection; a high end restaurant that needed reservations three years in advance unless you threatened to eat the owner’s pet rabbit (Peter wasn’t proud of that, but he’d stand by his choices), a walk along the beach to a blanket with chilled champagne and strawberries waiting on them, and the sweetest kiss goodnight to finish it off (followed by mind-blowing sex, but he’d save that until his kids were old enough to really embarrass).

Their first anniversary was just as perfect in a different sort of way; Pizza Hut delivery that they got free because Stiles glamoured their apartment so that the pizza was exactly thirty-one minutes late, a Parks and Rec marathon on TV that they could quote word for word (and they did, they even made a game out of it that was bound to become tradition), and a garlic-laced goodnight kiss that had Peter laughing because he’d never pictured this being how he and Stiles spent their anniversary during the first few months of them dating (followed by sex on the couch because they were too full to actually make it to bed).

After that, Peter swore that their second anniversary would be different and they’d at least have something fancier for dessert than a shared pint of Ben and Jerry’s. Stiles had laughed, baring the pale column of his throat, and he’d curled tighter around Peter as they attempted not to slide off the couch.

“This was perfect,” he said, flashing Peter that grin he loved so much.

And Peter really thought it was.

***

Turns out dating the best friend of a Shadowhunter has more drawbacks than Peter had originally thought. There were two of them in his apartment when he got home from his shift at the bookshop, just dirtying up his couch like they had any right to it and it took all his years of training not to at least growl at them in warning. Instead, he sets the new stack of books down on his kitchen table and turns to face his intruders.

“You know, normal people call before dropping by,” he tells them, arching his brows.

“You’re dating Stiles,” Ally says in response, as though that gives her every right to break a perfectly good window and climb inside using the fire escape.

“Is this the part where you tell me that you’ll kill me if I break his heart? Before you do that, you could at least introduce your friend.” The other Shadowhunter, a man around Peter’s age with hard blue eyes and blond hair that was slowly graying, looks unimpressed with Peter altogether. If he didn’t want to see me, then he shouldn’t have broken into my apartment.

“My name is Chris Argent,” the man says, all condescension and arrogance that Shadowhunters are well known for. The Argents were fairly high up in the ranks, the Inquisitor’s lap dogs from what Peter had heard. Still, they weren’t as prominent as the Lightwoods or the Waylands. “And I’m fairly confident that Stiles could dispose of your body with barely a flick of his pinky if he wanted to.”

“That’s lovely. Now, if you’d see yourselves out I’d be forever grateful.” He gestures at the broken window, already making plans to send that particular bill to the Institute or wherever these two were holed up.

“We’re just here as a reminder that Stiles won’t have to kill you himself, Hale.”

“Since when are Shadowhunters so concerned about warlocks? Is it some new fad or just something that happens when you hang around Magnus Bane for long periods of time?” Which reminds Peter that he needs to send Bane a fruit basket for not threatening him this way.

“Just remember that you’re outnumbered here,” Ally states, and the glint in her eyes tells him that she’s already thought up seven different ways to kill him slow should Stiles even sneeze wrong.

***

Magnus Bane wasn’t getting a fruit basket, but he might get a foot up his ass for breaking Peter’s window again when he could have just used a portal for God’s sake.

***

It’s three years later when Peter’s stumbling around the famed city of Alicante that he realizes just how much he loves Stiles. Dead bodies are littered all over the ground from the what would come to be known as the Dark War, there’s blood basically painting Stiles when he comes around the corner, but neither of those things stop Peter from grabbing the boy and just holding him.

He buries his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck, breathing in the heady scent of home and pack and mate. And Stiles was doing much the same thing, shaking as he tangles his fingers in the back of Peter’s ruined coat, clinging to him like some kind of shell-shocked koala as he worked through the panic attack.

Peter never wanted to let Stiles go again, barely managed to free an arm to wrap around his nephew and pull him close. This was his pack, his goddamn family, and the Fair Folk had nearly torn that away from him in one harsh sweep against the Nephilim stronghold. He’d nearly lost control of himself during the fight and the only thing that kept him anchored was that constant pulse under his ribs that said Stiles was still alive, Derek was still fighting tooth and claw.

He would kill the next person that thought they could destroy his pack, he would tear their heart out and feed it to his mate like a delicacy, paired with the finest wine he could get his hands on. Looking at the other two confirmed they felt much the same way, Stiles’ eyes flecked with gold and Derek’s blazing a bright electric blue.

No one would ever threaten them again.

***

Seven years later, Peter didn’t think Stiles was actually capable of shocking him anymore. Not after he’d learned about the warlock’s banishment from Peru (something about psychotic monkeys and trying to one-up Bane), or the fact that Stiles could change into a fox if he felt like it, or even that his father’s side of the family were made up of Shadowhunters that had ended up forming the Argent line (which, yeah, that connection cleared a lot of things up).

So, when he’d come home for lunch that day and found Stiles sitting on their kitchen table wearing only a silk tie and matching boxers with a velvet box balanced in the palm of one hand, Peter realized that there were still plenty of ways Stiles could still shock him. “So,” Stiles said, swinging his feet back and forth through the air,” you wanna tie the knot or not, old man?”

“I guess we should since the neighbors are starting to gossip,” Peter replies, and he takes a special interest in getting Stiles out of those purple boxers. He never did make it back to the shop that afternoon.

Now, was that the most romantic way to propose to a person? Probably not. Did Peter actually give a damn about elaborate proposals? Not really, but that didn’t stop him from standing outside Stiles’ window with a boombox blasting In Your Eyes with a velvet box of his own.

“You’re such a fucking showoff,” Stiles tells him as he comes outside.

“It’ll make sure all our stories are memorable, sweetheart,” Peter promises as he hands the box over. Stiles flicks it open and tilts his head back in a full body laugh that never failed to make Peter revel in his beauty all over again. He also manages a smirk this time because the delicate silver band has the Batman logo etched into it.

***

Their wedding turns out to be nothing fancy, just the two Argents and Derek attending with Deaton replacing a priest. Their vows were simple things, their first dance was uncoordinated because apparently Stiles is only graceful when he’s fighting, and everyone had tears in their eyes once it was done. Even Peter did, though he’d never admit that to anyone but his husband.

Peter spent the afternoon and early evening just trying to process the fact that the beautiful man sitting next to him, the one with the glittering horns and sweet-as-honey voice, was really all his. That he’d get to wake up every morning and see Stiles for the rest of his life; he’d get to listen to Stiles’ off-key singing in the shower, eat the unpronounceable Polish meals he whipped up for special occasions, and hold him whenever he wanted.

And Stiles seemed to be just as excited, unable to sit still even through the speeches the other three insisted on making. The Argents had managed to slip a few thinly veiled threats into their speeches, something about sticking tasers in Peter’s squishy bits if he ever even entertained the thought of leaving Stiles. Derek’s was by far the classiest of the speeches, though that didn’t take much effort.

“You guys really belong together, you’re the same level of assholes,” he had said, and raised his glass of champagne.

***

It’s not until they get home from a great honeymoon in Mexico that they realized they’d forgotten to inform Magnus of their nuptials. They realized that because the older warlock was sitting in the living room of the newly rebuilt Hale House when they returned home, and all the glitter in the world couldn’t hide the rage burning in those gold-green eyes of his.

“Really,” Magnus had practically growled,” you couldn’t even send a fucking text that you two were getting hitched? Couldn’t shoot me an email or just mention it in passing or even use smoke signals so I wouldn’t be blindsided when Derek talks about how nice the fish was?” He glowers at them from across the room (he’d broken another window and the glass was scattered deliberately across the hardwood floors), and Peter was legitimately scared the warlock might blast them into next month.

“Did you still get us a present,” Stiles asked, because he has no sense of self-preservation and he’s the world’s biggest asshole at the best of times.

Peter really did choose the perfect mate.

[another-chorus-girl]

Erik House - Chapter 11

Hello pham! Now it’s been a little while longer for this update and it’s because I wanted to wait until today to post it. As of now ALW’s “Phantom of the Opera” is celebrating 31 years since its original debut on October 9, 1986. Happy anniversary phamily!

"No NO!" Erik scowled, halting his composition. "There needs to be inflection! It is not simply spewing out lyrics! There must be pain and passion in your voice, raw emotion!"

Gerik meekly nodded, not fool enough to question the fully masked man. They'd been at it for hours tonight.

"Again!" Erik commanded, starting from the beginning of the aria on the organ.

Gerik took a breathe and started over. While Erik was frustrated he could not deny he was seeing little by little some improvement. Still the film adapted man was a more trying pupil than Christine had been. But Gerik was fortunately willing to learn, it was just a matter of Erik breaking down the man's old habits.

The men paused hearing a door open and close, followed by footsteps.

"Is it possible that a break is imminent in the near future?" Kerik called, "Some of us would like to enjoy a meal in peace and quiet."

Erik's golden eyes narrowed into slits, "I thought I had said no one was to come down and disturb me under any circumstances."

"I'll have you know I'm NOT downstairs, merely my voice is." The novelised man's voice echoed around them, displaying his own ventriloquism skills. Footsteps descended until Kerik was down the steps. "Now I'm downstairs. There's a difference."

Erik groaned, waving a hand at Gerik. "Go, we're done for today at any rate. And remember what I said."

Gerik got up, adjusting his cravat before taking his leave passed Kerik-who's yellow eyes bore into him the entire time.

"That was my unsaid queue for you to take leave as well boy," Erik grumbled, standing fully.

"Why are you suddenly being so kind as of lately?" Kerik asked, ignoring the elder man's demand, flouncing down on a nearby couch. Stroking his hand along the red velvet cushion his eyes gleamed. "Ooh, Louis Phillipe furniture I see?"

"And just how have I been been 'kind as of lately'?" Erik asked, crossing his arms.  

"Don't think I haven't noticed you lurking about upstairs. I know it was you that calmed Cherik down when Cudia damaged one of his stuffed birds. Or the one that left foiled sweets for Panaro when he was worrying over that dog of his falling ill? And now giving private lessons?" Kerik went on.

Erik's gaze softened, "I'm merely looking out for my own. Believe it or not while many of you-especially YOU-can be a thorn in my side, I consider you lot....my family."

"Hm," Sitting up Kerik shrugged, "If it makes you feel better, I think he's making progress at least. It's still a little distasteful to my ears, but tolerable to an extent."

Hearing footsteps coming down, Lerik and Crawford blinked puzzled to see the novelised man lounging in the basement with his older counterpart.

"I suppose I'll go since it's time for seniors night," Kerik remarked, patting Erik's arm-whom flinched with a glare at the physical contact-before walking passed the other two men.

Lerik pulled out his board and held it up to be read, 'What was that all about exactly?'

Erik shook his head, "Let's just say our youth can be....exhausting to say the least."

Sitting down, Crawford nodded. "You preach to the choir my good monsieur."

"That reminds me," Erik asked, "Your lot are going to behave I should hope at this...soiree of sorts your hosting I trust?"

The older Merik nodded, "Of course, they know not to step out of line on this night."

"Even given our other guests that will be in attendance?"

"Yes, every precaution is being taken."

"Splendid," Erik clasped his hands together. "Well let's see to our other matters then. Lerik, I believe you had something to say last time?"

The mute scowled behind his mask before Erik realised what he'd just said.

"I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me..."   --

"And then what?" Winslow asked.

Destler downed his glass in one shot, bringing it down onto the table with a cheeky chuckle.

"I hung the cad upside down before gutting him like a fish," He seemed to boast. 

"You know what I said to the boy just before that?"

He shook his head.

"He said he wouldn't let such a clumsy mistake happen again to which I said 'You're SUSPENDED!'"

The two men were cackling with laughter, earning some unsettled looks from the cafes other patrons. 

"Doesn't sound much better than that horrible Beef I had to deal with," Winslow groaned as he scribbled down more notes.

"You had a beef with whom?" Destler asked, adjusting his glasses.

"No his NAME was Beef."

He chuckled as Winslow explained.

"And then I cornered him whilst the fool was showering, didn't even register I was there until I pulled the curtain back."

"You came at him with a knife I presume?"

"I had one but no," Winslow said.

"Then what?"

"...A plunger"

Destler was holding his sides as he laughed, "Used I should hope?"

To which Winslow merely flashed him a silver toothed grin.

"Say, what's that?" A voice interrupted the men as they glanced at the source. A young man in perhaps his early twenties with brown clean kept hair stood. His clothes looked finely pressed and immaculate.

"N-Nothing," Winslow mumbled shyly, trying to conceal the score he was working on.

The young man chuckled, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I'm not very familiar with music, but my wife is very in depth with it though."

"Very nice, now I believe my companion wanted some privacy." Destler scowled, removing his glasses setting them on the table.

The boy held his hands up in innocence with a nervous glance. "I meant no intrusion monsieur. I merely was curious about his music-"

"And he merely does not wish to discuss it."

Realising the situation was going south, the young man backed off going back to his table.

"Thank you," Winslow said, pulling the sheet music back out from under the crook of his arm. "I just...don't like other people looking at my music anymore. I don't trust them."

Destler made a remark, "Heh, you show me."

"That's different. I trust you,"

Destler's brown eyes met Winslow's blue.

"I don't think anyone's ever really put trust in me before," He confessed.

Winslow nodded, "I've put too much trust in people. But I don't do that anymore, except you."

"Thank you," He smiled, watching Winslow work.

--

"You're sure about this? I can move down instead? It wouldn't be too much trouble." Panaro asked, carrying a box down the hall.

Karimloo shook his head, walking with him, a large box in his arms as well. 

"Don't be silly, besides with Soot that would be even more work having to switch rooms. Besides, I don't own too much."

Since the Meriks had developed a well budding companionship, half the time they barely stayed separated at night now. So Panaro and Karimloo decided to cut out the middle man and share a room. Single quarters were a luxury, only a handful of the Meriks received one-as there were so many occupants and not enough rooms to go around even for the enormous house.

But they just couldn't stay apart.

"I just want to make sure your happy," Panaro said, setting their boxes down in the room.

Karimloo held the Merik's chin between his thumb and index finger with a smile.

"Of course I'm happy," He said, his malformed lips grazing over the other man's. With his free arm, Karimloo gently clicked the door closed. "I think we earned a break." -- Gerik practised what Erik was teaching him during the free hours he had. The elder man was a strict teacher, but he had yet to be mistaken on anything in his curriculum.

Y offered to help him as well, suggesting they practice together. Gerik enjoyed the idea, though his older friend noticed that each time they would meet to practice it was never at his own room.

"Why don't we ever practice in your quarters?" Y asked bluntly, seeing no reason to beat around the bush.

Gerik's pale blue eyes glanced the other way. "Oh. Haven't we? I um....I guess I didn't notice."

"What's going on? Is there something your hiding?" Y asked, his unblinking eyes narrowed quizzically.

"No. Well yes. Wait no! That's not what I meant."

The older man sighed, "Tell me it's not something that needs to be brought up with Monsieur Fantome?"

"I should hope not! If he sees it, he'll likely request never to be in my presence again!" Gerik retorted.

"What?"

He sighed, "Why don't I just show you?"

Pulling out his key Gerik unlocked the door, pushing it open with a creak. 

Flipping the light, Mr. Y was somewhat taken back at what he saw.

At first he was startled thinking he had seen Karimloo standing in the room. Well, technically it was Karimloo, or at least the mannequin looked like him-even the mask was authentic and identical.

"You mean to tell me you made this?" He asked.

The film adapted man nodded, "Yes. Those photos Harley gave me were actually quite good references."

"Did you even-" He mumbled, pulling off the mannequin's mask only to place it back on its' face. "Oh! Yes, it seems you even got his....entire face done correctly."

Y turned to Gerik, looking as though a lightbulb had just gone off in his head.

"Wait, is THIS why you were asking me about the automatons I made for Phantasma?"

Gerik's face went a darker shade of red, "Yes..."

"You realise I designed those for entertainment purposes in the park-"

"I already know about her," Gerik stated.

"That was a scrap idea! I didn't even use it!" He retorted. "Can I ask you not to bring that sore spot up with Anna?"

"I don't want to do anything obscene I just wanted it to be...lifelike." Gerik confessed.

Y couldn't help but frown, his friend was hurting. After seeing Gerik run upstairs to his room still doing his belt and shirt up he confronted the film adapted man and heard all about Karimloo and Panaro and then the run in with Kerik.

It wasn't a healthy obsession per se Gerik was going through. Then again, when had ANY man in this house not had an unhealthy obsession in their lifetimes? But unlike the last one Gerik's wasn't affecting anybody, he wasn't trying to dismantle The West End and Broadway mingled romance. The most he'd done was shoot Panaro a dirty look behind his back or stared over at Karimloo when he wasn't looking.

"I'll give you the basic layout I used," Mr. Y relented, "But I expect to see the finished product. I won't be held responsible if Karimloo finds out about a sex bot clone. One Merik ringing out my neck was enough."     --

Crawford was not exaggerating when he said every precaution was taken for this night. No stone was left unturned as he attempted to lock up for the evening any lasso from the Meriks in attendance and hiding away anything they could tie into a makeshift rope. The longest length of thread allowed would be their bowties, and even that he was on the fence permitting.

But he had another bargaining chip that appealed to most of them.

"There will be absolutely no mishaps tonight. This is important. Not just to me, but I know it is important to you as well." Crawford explained sternly but calmly. 

"And, I have one last ultimatum. Should your behaviour reflect poorly, your claim on the vacant quarters will be relinquished. I see one of you so much as making catgut cat's cradles and you've past the point of no return as far as the room is concerned."

This last remark made some heads perk up. Crawford was already aware of the little contest the Meriks wanted to have for the free room. And it might just make most of them behave for an evening like this.

But while a personal room amongst a floor of slightly discontent roommates was a hefty and tempting bargaining chip, it would not be an easy night for most to endure once the first knock came to the door.

Sarah was the first to arrive, putting her arms around Crawford as he greeted her at the door.

"I knew you would be here," He smiled holding a single red rose for her. "Happy anniversary darling."

She leaned up to kiss him, her free hand grasping his coat lapel.

"Thirty-one years. They seem to have rolled by like days," She mused.

"Indeed they have,"

He then handed her another rose, but this one unlike the first was a pristine shade of white.

"This is our night, but I know you would have wanted him to be here too." 

Crawford said solemnly, as Sarah accepted the white rose.

Her pale blue eyes softened, she fell in his arms and he could feel Sarah tremble.

"Yes, you're right," She nodded, feeling his hand reach up to pet her curls. 

Pulling back she gave him a smile. "But this is a night to celebrate yes?"

"Of course. It's just a wait for the others now."

And soon another knock had come. Mauer was pleased to see Elizabeth arrive, the Merik also offering her a red rose.

When another familiar face was awaiting at the door, that was when the ultimate test started.

"Ah! Sierra, do come in" Crawford allowed her in. "And...I'm sorry what was it again?"

"Ahem, Fraser if you please." The brunette male accompanying Sierra said. He knew this wasn't Karimloo, nor was the other masked man at the door, but it still unnerved him. Especially knowing somewhere in the house he was indeed here.

"I'm not sure about this," He mumbled to his wife, his arm interlinked with hers.

"There's no need for that. Besides we were BOTH invited here, this is our night too." Sierra reassured him, leaning against his shoulder.

Fraser sighed, "Alright, but the second I see a red lasso in sight we are leaving."

"I understand, and please put your arm down! You look ridiculous!" She joked, swatting his free hand that he had held up.

They were greeted upstairs to a parlour room full of masked men.

"Madame, he's merely being cautious." Warlow stated. "But you needn't keep your hand at the level of your eyes all night monsieur. One, you'll just create a cramp in your arm after so long. Two, we're all well aware of what tonight represents, and mean you no harm."

"Tonight that is" Lewis scowled as did Davies. Jones whom was seated and receiving a tarot reading from Kerik glanced up surprisingly at Sierra and Fraser.

"Hmm I see old memories....of despair ahead," Kerik mumbled, his back to the couple.

Looking up at the Merik whom shifted uncomfortably in his seat he turned to what exactly Jones was looking at.

"Wow, I'm good at this!" Kerik said smirking down at the cards in front of them.  

Tugging on Fraser's arm Sierra said, "Why don't we sit down? I see-"

Karimloo stood frozen in the doorway.

"Love? What's-" Panaro said catching up with Karimloo whom paused seeing new faces in the parlour, "-wrong?"

Sierra smiled, "Karimloo, it's...been awhile."

"Y-Yes it has," He stammered.

All the while this awkward encounter was happening Fraser glared at Karimloo, hardly hiding his distaste for the man that almost killed him. On the other spectrum, Panaro found himself scowling as well.

"Good to see you again too! I heard you two hit things off, congratulations." 

Sierra smiled at Panaro, but the Merik just glared icily, Karimloo noticing the other man's arm a little tighter around his.

Tonight was going to be a long night.

But once more of the guests arrived-sopranos and their respective Vicomte's-things were surprisingly calm. Although McKintosh and Lewis got into a slight confrontation with Hays that soon enough was subsided before things went beyond loud French insults.

Barrowman and Freeman scowled at each other. 

"Shouldn't you be travelling through time or space or something?" Freeman scoffed.

"Har har monsieur, like I haven't heard that one before."

Fraser had excused himself to use the facilities. As he was making his way back to the parlour, the Vicomte felt his collar be tugged back. Immediately Fraser's hand went up in a panic.  

"Unhand me you-!" Fraser started but paused realising it was Panaro behind him. "Wait what is this all about?!"

"Just keep your wife in check monsieur," The Merik jabbed.

Fraser blinked, "Excuse me?"

"I know they have a past, and I don't like the way she smiles and giggles talking to him in there." Panaro grumbled crossing his arms like a disgruntled child.

"I assure you my wife certainly has no intentions towards your...companion. I don't exactly enjoy that she often talks of him as a friend."

"Talks OFTEN of him?!"

The brunette eyed him still somewhat suspicious of Panaro's motive. "Just take my word that nothing is or certainly ever will be going on with them. I won't bar her from making friends, but I'm not losing her either."

Panaro glared before turning to leave, "Fine."

And the two men left it at that for the time being, neither wishing to sour the night.

Soon with only an hour until midnight and Jones clinked a glass to signal for some attention.

"While I know this evening may have been somewhat rocky," Seeing some faces in the crowd nod or shrug in indifference. "It truly says something about us to be here together. I think we're all agreed that putting aside some differences for a night like this is understandable?"

"For another hour that is," Karimloo glared at Fraser whom scowled right back.

The Merik grimaced feeling someone pinch his ear.

"Behave," Wilkinson scolded to which Karimloo meekly nodded bowing his head.

"Well said," Crawford nodded.

Jones smiled feeling rather proud of the praise. "Yes well, thanks. Actually, did you care to say anything? Of all of us this is really your night the most."

"I don't really have much to say. Except that we all made this happen, and we should acknowledge and take pride in that."

Even a few of the Vicomtes' in the parlour smiled at this.

"Cheers." --

Fortunately, unlike the last occasion the Meriks consumed alcohol, the chaos was controlled and free of any fire or punjabbing as the De Chagny's and sopranos took care the leave before midnight struck.

Sarah and Elizabeth were still present, the latter listening to Mauer play in the parlour. Sierra and Fraser were leaving just before this time came around.

"It was nice seeing you again," Sierra said to Karimloo.

"Yes, I...it was nice seeing you." The West End man said stumbling over his jumbled words.

He flinched feeling the brunette's arms around him in a hug. Hesitantly Karimloo returned the gesture. 

“He’s a keeper,” She whispered in his ear, “I’m happy for you.”

Karimloo felt his face flush, “What?? I don’t...I”

Sierra giggled, “I know! And I think it’s very sweet. You deserve to be happy too.”

A tiny smile creeped over his face at the thought of him, “Yes, well thank you.”

As she and Fraser departed Karimloo didn't see Panaro in the parlour. His assumption right that he’d retired to their quarters, Karimloo shimmied the door open with his foot, holding the last half of a bottle.   

"Care for more wine?" Karimloo asked

"Fill it up," Panaro frowned.

He glanced at the Broadway man confused, "Something troubling you?"

"Of course not,"

But his large gulps of the wine-already reaching to refill his glass-and trembling hands seem to say otherwise. -- Cherik was adding a new edition to his rooftop dreamery-a pheasant it would seem-when he noticed a dark figure sitting on the roof's edge.

Walking closer, he could see-even with the figure's back to him-it was Jones sitting alone.

"Why arn't you at the party?" Cherik asked, "I'd have thought you of all people would be there."

Jones smiled, "Oh I was, but I had enough excitement for one night I think. 

Besides, it's a beautiful night out, don't you think?"

"Yes it is," The full masked man nodded. He shifted a little uneasily. "Would you...would you mind terribly if I joined you?"

"Not at all," Jones said, patting a spot beside him.

Cherik and the Merik sat together, watching the stars up ahead, noticing one shoot past in a flash with a white tail.

"I don't understand the concept people have with 'shooting stars' and wishing upon them." Cherik said.

The Merik nodded, "Neither do I. But you can still wish on it, you never do know what will happen."

Cherik's lip curved up in the tiniest of smiles looking back at Jones. --

"Where has the time gone really?" Sarah asked.

With an arm around her Crawford nodded, "And yet it feels like yesterday."

"I've missed you." Her eyes look up at him,

The Merik sighed, "I'm so sorry. I've missed you too, and hearing your voice. So many nights I want nothing more than you."

"But they need you here."

By this point everyone else had retired for the evening. They were the only two left in the dimly lit parlour.

"At least no one needs me right now." Crawford said.

"Just me."

Sarah stifled a yawn to which Crawford chuckled. "It sounds as though someone is tired."

Already she was beginning to doze off, fighting to keep her eyes open. Reaching around, the Merik scooped her up in his arm as he stood.

Taking great care, he walked them down the hall, opening the door and setting Sarah gently down on the bed. She couldn't help the sleepy smile gracing her lips seeing the photograph of them, hands clasped together on their wedding day. Her small fingers played with the ring on her finger of gold plating around an onyx stone. Sarah’s eyes fall closed just as she felt a warm blanket being wrapped around her. 

"Pleasant dreams love," The Merik whispered, extinguishing what little light remained in the room.

-As stated above October 9 this year marks 31 years since Michael Crawford, Sarah Brightman, and Steve Barton dubut the ALW musical at Her Majesty’s Theatre back in 1986 today. 

-Crawford presenting Sarah with a white rose as well representing as I stated in a previous chapter that Steve Barton the original ALW Raoul sadly passed away back in 2001. 

-Welp we all do remember the mannequin in the 2004 film (and the ALW musical)

-The reference Gerik makes to Mr. Y about “her” is the Christine automaton used in the London version with Ramin Karimloo as Mr Y/The Phantom. But as this Mr. Y is Ben Lewis’ adaptation he didn’t use the robot Christine in his production.

-Sort of a tidbit rather than a footnote, Ramin idolised and very much respects Colm Wilkinson and this is why Karimloo is so complacent when Wilkinson scolds him.

-As Sierra Boggess has played Christine with Ramin Karimloo, she has also done so with Ben Lewis, John Owen Jones, Scott Davies, and very briefly with Hugh Panaro. 

-The following Raouls’ mentioned were Ethan Freeman, Hadley Fraser, John Barrowman and, Peter Hays. If a Raoul is brought up in the story like the Meriks’ they will be referred to by their last names, the Christine’s will still be by first name.

-The pun Freeman makes is in reference to John Barrowman also playing Jack Harkness on the British tv series “Doctor Who”.

-The wedding photo referenced at the very end is one of the many promo pictures for the ALW musical shot with Crawford and Brightman together with the latter wearing her wedding gown. The ring mentioned being the one used in the musical that the Phantom presents to Christine when trying to force her into marrying him at the end of PoNR.  

[bullybyulyi]

#7 - au

one more happy ending au! this drama is hilarious and i’ve wanted to do this for a while. this is just loosely based off the first episode. if there’s enough interest in this i might turn it into it’s own story :^)

How dare he. How DARE he! She wasted two good years of her life on that man and he had the nerve the audacity to propose to another woman right in front of her eyes. Okay, maybe she was a bit prettier, but Yongsun had a shining personality! And a successful career in front of her, and a hot body, and a cute dog, and!

God, how depressing. Yongsun stares out into the ocean and fingers the 8.5 million won pearl necklace he had gotten for her on their first anniversary. Today was their second. She had driven all the way out to the seaside hotel where he was head chef to surprise him and instead the spineless bastard was one knee down in front of an (admittedly) extremely beautiful woman.

Honestly, she didn’t look that happy either, but when Yongsun started redirecting her anger at the woman her weasel of an ex pushed her, physically pushed her away and said “You’ll stress out the baby.”

A fucking baby, he said. With the same fucking mouth that just last night not 18 hours ago he had told Yongsun he loved her.

“That RAT BASTARD!” Yongsun felt all her rage well up inside her again and the hand that was gently caressing the pearls ripped the necklace over her head and flung it straight into the tide.

Wait.

“Oh my god. Oh my god oh mygodohmygod-“ Yongsun stared at waves swallowing up her 8.5 million won. She was too stunned to move, arm still outstretched as if maybe time would rewind and her fingers wouldn’t have let go.

No. No you know what? This is fine. This is just fine. The necklace has no meaning to her. He’s dead in her eyes so what does she care if she just tossed his expensive as hell gift into the ocean. Screw him and screw the necklace and screw that woman and no, not screw the baby, babies are innocent.

She didn't care about it.

But if she really didn’t care, she would pawn the necklace off and get 8.5 million won and she could buy her happiness and her two years of wasted time back. A shopping spree would make her feel better. She could buy Jjing Jjing more sweaters.

Screw it, she’s getting that stupidly expensive necklace back.

Heels and jacket come flying off as Yongsun runs headlong into the October waves.

-

Byulyi sipped on her coffee and checked the view from the café. Nice, very nice. A prominent hotel reviewer, Moon Byulyi had come to this well managed establishment to give it the four stars it deserved. Only four, because the restaurant food was pretty overhyped. A shame, really. It was her last day there, so she’d decided to draft up a review in the café while soaking in the lovely sight of the ocean while she could.

Today, it seemed, had a lovelier view than yesterday. A woman was standing, staring wistfully at the shoreline. Even from afar Byulyi could tell she was beautiful. Her long brown hair was blown back by the ocean breeze and she had her hand clutched to her chest. How dramatic, Byulyi thought, but she couldn’t really blame her. The scenery looked like it could be used as a backdrop for some drama.

Byulyi looked back at her half-finished draft. She’d hope to get it done here while everything was still fresh in front of her, but it was creeping towards evening and the drive home was two hours long. She wasn’t about to have dinner at the overpriced restaurant, where she’s pretty sure the only reason the chef was so reputable was because he’s handsome and young.

Well, one last look at the beautiful woman before she packs up and leaves. She looks out the window just in time to see the woman strip and run headlong into the waves.

Byulyi drops everything and bolts.

-

Yongsun’s neck deep in the blue and she’s just about had it. The salt from the ocean is mixing with the salt from her tears and it’s definitely because she’s just frustrated about losing 8.5 million won and definitely not because a man she thought she loved and loved her back dropped her like she wasn’t even worth 8.5 micro won.

“Agh, that dick!” She plunges back into the ocean again, if only to feel the crisp water against her face.

When she resurfaces, there wild splashing that’s definitely not coming from her and a voice that sounds like it’s trying to be reassuring. It’s not. Whoever is splashing in the water behind her sounds like they’re about to drown. She turns around to see maybe the dumbest mermaid in the world. Definitely a mermaid, with a pointed jaw and sharp eyes, and hair that shone a million shades of deep blue in the golden light of the sun. Definitely dumb, because she was about to drown herself in less than a meter and a half of water.

Yongsun had lost hope of finding the necklace quite a while ago, and really she was just in the water to calm down, but now she had to pull this fool out of the water. Just her day.

She swam over to the woman who was still wildly try to splash towards her, and once she was in arms reach she felt the lady wrap her arms tightly around her neck and cling on for dear life.

“You’re okay! You’re alright!” She shouted, frantic and hyperventilating in Yongsun’s ear.

“I’m fine!” She shouted back and dragged them both back to shore.

Once they had stumbled safely out of the reach of the waves, the strange woman collapsed on the bank, not caring about sand getting on her everywhere.

“Are you alright?” Yongsun peered down at her, only a little suspiciously, because she looked harmless enough but you couldn’t be normal to just jump in the ocean like that.

“I’m,” She sat up and coughed hard, “I’m alright.” She took a couple of deep breaths before looking up at Yongsun. “You can really swim.” She smiled in awe.

“And you really can’t.” She smiled back. Yongsun didn’t know what it was, but she was already liking this person. Maybe it was just nice to be treated kindly after the day she had. The thought reminds her of everything that did happen, and she turns to gaze out into the ocean again, thinking of the things she’d lost.

“It’s not worth it.” The woman next to her said softly.

“What?” What was she talking about? 8.5 million won was definitely worth it.

“Your life. Please don’t just throw it away like that.”

“My-What? No no, you’ve got it completely wrong. I…” She bit her lip. “I…lost something in there.”

The woman looks shocked at her explanation, and the suddenly bursts into laughter. “You run into ocean in the middle of October for some thing?”

Yongsun feels hot shame on her neck from being laughed at by a stranger. “Well what about you! Why are you chasing after people into the water when you can’t even swim!”

The woman halts her giggles but the laughter stays in her eyes and Yongsun has a second to think that she likes the way they twinkle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you.” She reaches out and takes Yongsun’s hand and looks her in the eyes and the intimacy of it all makes Yongsun blush. “Whatever thing you lost isn’t worth it either. Someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t be running into cold oceans.”

Yongsun blinks at the compliment but the corners of her mouth tug down. “Not even 8.5 million won?”

The woman visibly cringes, mirroring Yongsun’s grimace. She fixes her expression though, and grips Yongsun’s hand tighter. “No, not anymore. 8.5 billion wouldn’t be worth it. You should forget about it, and you should forget about him too.”

Yongsun flinches at how she’d been seen right through. “That easy to tell?”

The woman smiles and tucks one of Yongsun’s seaweed-looking hair strands behind her ear. “I may have heard you yell ‘that dick’ after I jumped in the water after you.”

Yongsun sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “This is embarrassing.”

“For you and me both, beautiful.” The other woman grins. She’s surprising easygoing for someone who just had their day dumped in cold water, literally. Yongsun coughs away the blush forming on her cheeks.

“I have a name, you know.”

“What a coincidence! I have one too.” She grins and uses both hands to hold Yongsun’s now. “Moon Byulyi, professional drowner, at your service.” She daintily shakes their hands.

Yongsun feels laughter bubbling up her chest and it lifts the weights off her shoulders. “Kim Yongsun, conveniently licensed lifeguard.”

“Wow! It’s like we were made for each other!” Byulyi grins teasingly. Yongsun normally hates cheesy remarks, but Byulyi is somehow so charming, she can’t be bothered.

Byulyi is still cupping her palm, looking into her eyes, and Yongsun thinks it must be because of the cold water that makes her hands feel so warm.

[coppolafrancis]

A Ruby Anniversary With Emeralds, Steel and Diamonds, Too

ROME — Lucia Silvestri carries a lot of responsibility on her slender, silk-clad shoulders.

At Bulgari, she is both chief gems buyer, shopping for the house’s spectacular stones, and the jewelry creative director, overseeing the process of turning gems into stunning pieces.

And, at 62, she is celebrating her 40th anniversary with the jewelry house.

Ms. Silvestri followed her father into the company; he had worked closely with Giorgio Bulgari, son of the house’s founder, on business matters. And she initially worked side by side with three Bulgari grandsons, Paolo, Nicola and Gianni — “my mentors,” as she called them during a recent interview in her big, bright office at Bulgari headquarters on the banks of the Tiber in Rome.

In 2011, the Bulgaris sold the house to LVMH Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton for 4.3 billion euros (now $4.75 billion). But Ms. Silvestri sees her job as “carrying on the DNA of the family,” preserving and nurturing what Bulgari has done since its beginnings in 1884.

That starts with buying remarkable stones, and Ms. Silvestri is one of the few female gem buyers at this level, traveling the world from India to New York to find the best and the rarest. Nine of the 16 people reporting to her are on her gem-buying team. And, she added, she still practices a business lesson she learned from the Bulgari brothers: “Don’t buy a gemstone until you know how you are going to use it.”

And, he added, he really likes working with her. “The collaboration with Lucia is very informal, direct, friendly, joyful and balanced,” he wrote. “Although I am not a creative person myself, I love sharing my ideas, which I have to say are always welcomed with great openness by her and her team.”

Other jewelry experts agree. Judith Price, president of the National Jewelry Institute in the United States and an adjunct lecturer at Parsons Paris, said, “Fine jewelry is not only her talent but her true passion.”

And, while Bulgari — like other high jewelry houses — refused to identify its gemstone suppliers, it did offer one dealer’s comment about Ms. Silvestri: “Every time we show her a new gemstone, she has the excitement of a painter who has found the right colors for his canvas.”

Color is one of Bulgari’s signatures. It is known for a deep, rich palette, but Ms. Silvestri recently came up with plans for a necklace that she described as “the shades of the sea: green, light blue and intense blue.”

Standing behind her office worktable on this particular day, she pressed loose tourmalines, aquamarines and emeralds onto a wax tablet, picking them up and then pressing them back into the wax surface until she was satisfied with the arrangement. Then the design and the gemstones would be sent to Bulgari’s high jewelry atelier on the outskirts of Rome to be transformed into a piece of jewelry.

She also looks for new materials and, in recent years, has produced pieces from wood, ceramic, steel, bronze, titanium and marble, all materials not normally associated with fine jewelry.

Ms. Silvestri tries on each and every piece from the high jewelry collections to be sure it feels right, and is as finely crafted on the back as on the front, so it is smooth against the skin. “As a woman, I like jewels that are flexible, that aren’t rigid,” she said.

And, after all these years, does she have a favorite Bulgari piece? She said there were too many to choose just one, listing Elizabeth Taylor’s sapphire sautoir, the Monete collection featuring ancient Roman coins, a necklace with a 24.46-carat Colombian emerald from the Cinemagia collection and the Flamingo necklace from the recent Wild Pop line.

This year, in celebration of her anniversary, Ms. Silvestri began bringing her gem table to events around the globe, including recent gatherings on Capri and in China, so Bulgari’s V.I.C.s — Very Important Clients — could select stones for custom pieces.

But even as the house continues to acknowledge its traditions — like the recent exhibition in Rome that showcased what Ms. Silvestri called Bulgari’s “recognizable style”: the reptilian scales and snake heads of Serpenti, the coins of Monete, the flexible links of Tubogas — it has been working on smaller, lighter and less-expensive versions to capture the next generation of customers. The Serpenti snake, for example, now appears in hoop earrings and ear cuffs, while the Bulgari Bulgari line sells single ear studs, suitable for personalization.

The efforts appear to be paying off. While LVMH does not break out revenue by brand, the 2018 annual report praised the house for gaining market share, and noted that the new Fiorever jewelry collection, designed around a central diamond, was “exceptionally well received.”

It is a different company from the one Ms. Silvestri’s father knew. “When my father worked at Bulgari, there was only one store,” she said. And when she started, she said: “There were three or four. Now there are 250.”

She does remember those early days fondly: “I used to go to Sunday dinners at the family villa outside Rome, since I was 6 or 7. It was all very elegant.”

While she worked at some part-time administrative jobs at Bulgari while studying biology in her late teens, Ms. Silvestri was not officially employed there until she was 22. But, she said, those initial jobs were pivotal: “I would wake up in the morning so happy thinking about gems.”

At the end of each work day, the Bulgari brothers would invite her into a room where tables were laden with jewels. “They’d say, ‘Play with the stones, play with combinations, put smaller stones with gems.’ So I put turquoise with rubies, amethyst with emeralds.”

They liked what they saw. “They realized I had an aptitude for stones,” she said, and as more stores opened and they needed more inventory, they had her create combinations of precious and semiprecious stones. “The brothers were interested only in the big stones,” she said.

She began traveling with them and, while she could make selections, “when I started to talk price, they” — the suppliers — ”would say, ‘We want to talk with Mr. Bulgari, not you.’” But she persevered, and soon was handling negotiations with what she considers her signature style: “I’m sweet but tough.”

She is proud to have flourished in what was a man’s world. “I’m a business woman, and I’m a creative woman,” she said. “I can be an example for other women that you can be creative and a business woman in a man’s world.”

But some things never change, and one is the continuing inspiration of Rome, her hometown. Bulgari has long had a strong connection to its city. In 2016, for example, it financed a $1.7 million renovation of the Spanish Steps.

During the interview, Ms. Silvestri was wearing a Diva’s Dream necklace, whose scalloped motif was based on the tiles in the Baths of Caracalla. And she pointed to a sketch of a choker in rubellite and tourmaline rendered in a series of arches, like those of a bridge. The piece is called Ponte di Roma.

“Rome is a very important part of me,” she said. “To be here, to see the colors of the buildings, of nature, I take inspiration.”

Check out small diamond cross necklaces selection for the very best in unique or custom, handmade pieces at EyeOnJewels.

[oncerpotter2018]

Time Will Set Us Free: A Cherik fanfic

Dedicated to: @the-charles-to-my-erik Chapter 22 Two year later... Charles was gone for two whole years. He had died two years ago where everyone else has learnt to move on apart from one. Raven smiled again and quickly began to take notice of the world once more, she moved in with Hank as they started their new lives together. Emma moved to California where she found a new partner and had told Erik that the photos of Shaw were all shredded and burt before she left. Alex started his own company and Sean moved in with his new girlfriend who approved his job as a stage performer. Angel took a job as a runway model in Milan contacting them whenever she can. Moria continued her job as a CIA agent for another year before denying a promotion as head office, she white her job in the agency and went to work for a local hospital as a full time nurse. Everyone has their moment of silence when it came to Charles' death anniversary but still smiles trying to continue their lives as it was. Despite each one calling each other neither of them all had time to go face to face in reality. "Sorry guys I got to go, see ya all next time" said Emma. "Oh and Erik I'm throwing things out from my old home, you interested in the mirror in the spare bedroom?" Asked Emma hearing only the buzzing of the phone on the other end. Erik took a long while to answer thinking about the what to say but finally came to a conclusion. "Sure, why not" replied Erik and heard Emma responded with a slight laugh. "Okay I'll send it over, bye" she hanged up leaving Erik with silence. It was late June and Erik walked through the graveyard his hand holding a rose as he strolled Charles grave. Once found Charles' grave was decorated with flowered already there. "I miss you" Erik said placing the Rose amongst the others. On the gravestone was etched the words that Erik hold them to put. The first part was the same, Charles name with the year he was born and died but it was the second part that brought tears to his eyes. Here lies a Friend, a son and a husband to be. "I miss you" said Erik once more before getting onto his feet and walking away not turning back to look one last time. Going home wasn't the same, it was empty and drained from colour, the once beautiful shades of blue that covered the wall in the living room was waring off, the years a paint was peeling from the surface. "Hello sweetie, come here" called Erik like a child, clicking his fingers towards something in the distance. There strolled in a small ginger cat as it pounced around the dining room table where it followed the sounds of Erik's voice, it followed the source of the sound and once he got there the car laid on his lap. "Hey there sweetheart, hey what's up Charlie?" Asked Erik in a childish fashion as he stroke the cat scratching him behind the ears. Charlie the cat purred rubbing his head closer to Erik's hand. Erik smiled as he continued to do so, he gazed into the cat's eyes smiling at the shine in the different colours. "What a groovy mutation you have" Erik said to the trying to smile but the memory came back and he began to cry, Charlie meowed softly trying effortlessly to get his attention but nothing worked. "I'm alright" he said as he took hold of Charlie in his hands and went to his now silent as empty bedroom, Charles scent still lingered in the air. Erik settled Charlie down on the bed as he walked towards the cabinet, once there he opened it with care and took out a old shoe box, he and the box went back to the bed and Erik opened it slowly trying not to rip the lid of the box. Charlie moved forwards a little, tilting his head slowly to one side watching Erik carefully as he took out contents from the box. Inside were different photographs that scattered the box amongst newspaper clippings and letters that weren't opened. Erik took out several photos all at once, scattering them on the bed smiling at the memories that once lapsed round his mind. Photos of each event from their first dance to their first kiss, to their anniversary to their first date, these photos were worn out and torn on the edges but had been well persevered. "What have I came Charles? This wasn't the life I wanted to not like this" Erik said to himself as he picked up a photo from the far corner, this one was more unique, it was on their holiday, the last remark of their happiness before tragedy broke them apart. Erik held that photo close to his chest, close to his heart. Tears fell from his eyes only stopping when Charlie curled up against his chest rubbing his head on his stomach, he purred and Erik smiled. "You miss him too huh? I miss him as well" Erik said starching Charlie on the back of his ear. Charlie was his only companion now, the company that has not entirely replaced Charles' presents but it was better than nothing. After the photos came the newspaper; Erik unfolded it and read the headline and it was the same every time. 'Home Invasion leaves College Professor dead' Erik stroke the newspaper to where a photo of Charles was placed. He smiled and cried at the same time for the onto photo used was Charles in his youth, so young and beautiful, so good and innocent but now gone and lost forever. He place the paper down to then pick up a unopened letter, on the other side was his name, a name he wished was here but wasn't. Charles Xavier. He opened the envelope and opened the letter, he flatted it out and read it out loud. ~ Dear Charles, I love you and I don't want to lose you. My heart beats for only one, you are the reason why I stay alive and that won't change. Please forgive me Charles, I love you and I don't won't to lose our love. This is wasn't suppose to happened and I'm sorry just please let me come home, I need you and I love you. Please Charles I can't live without you, but if you read his please don't forget I love you. I can't lose you not like this. Charles Xavier you are the reason why I stay. You are the reason why I need you, I can't be someone without you. Please let me come home. I love you. Sincerely Erik ~ Since he died Erik wrote letter that Charles would never read but he still kept the letter. He sighed and laid down on the bed breathing in and out trying to bring back the tears trying not to get his emotions the better of him but they came and he lose the battle. Erik straightened up again stared at the mirror that Emma gave to him a month ago, he stood up and walked over to it placing his hands on the glass wishing the Charles he saw would come back. He rested his head on the glass and sighed. "You know that mirror is more valuable than you think" said a voice nearby, Erik turned around as he did so he came face to face with a young women sitting on his bed with Charlie on her lap. He looked confused a first but he spoke no doubt and with confidence too. "Who the fuck are you?" He swore wondering what she was doing her, how did she even get in. "Well, let's just say I'm Fate" she replied her legs swinging over the edge of the bed. Fate was a cruel mistress. "Than I hate you than" said Erik mad at her for taking Charles away, for doing this. "Don't blame me I didn't kill him, Shaw did... Look, I've been watching you for a long while trust me" Erik looked at her with a surprised look, he doesn't understand but soon his eyes widen. Julia who helped them, the driver in Cuba, the police officer, Charles in the mirror, Charles at the funeral. "You, those people, Charles that was you..?"cried Erik as he began to cry again. "Yes but listen I had to because the Brotherhood had.." "What are you talking about? Just give me answers, who are who and why are you doing this?" Asked Erik wanting answers demanding his questions to be answered. The woman sighed and released Charlie from her arms and walked over to him, she looked him in the eyes and spoke with calmness in her voice. "I'm Julia I'm a mutant like you. I'm part of the brotherhood of mutants. We've been watching you Erik and been here to guide you. Your friend Emma was part of the brotherhood but she left for a normal life and this mirror was what she kept. Let's just say this mirror shows not our face but your hearts desire" she said her eyes never taking them off Erik's. Erik was bewildered by the information and to know that what he saw in the mirror was a desire of wanting him back. Julia went back on the bed and picked up one of the photos. "You know there is a way to keep him alive" she said turning towards him with the photo in her hand. He turned towards her and frowned. "Don't touch that and how's the possible, he's dead" exclaimed Erik taking a back the photo. "But what if there is a way to do so, I may be able to send you back by using these photos I may send you back into to... To change events but when you change one thing.." "You change everything" said Erik before Julia could finish her sentence. Erik moved passed her as he reached his bedside table there he took the photo frame into his hands. A picture of him and Charles at their graduation, a memory left behind. "I'll come back for you" Erik turned to face her, his eyes filled with tears and nodded. "I'll do it" he said as he placed the photo back down and walked towards Julia. "Are you sure? You get once chance only, remember change one thing..." "Change everything I know" said Erik and with one last look at the mirror before handing her over the first photo. Their first dance. "Okay, this might hurt" she said as she placed her fingers on her onto the photo in her mind, focusing her mind into his own. Soon Erik's mind was dark and empty, he soon his head was hurting and than his surroundings were covered in noise. The party. Emma and Ravens's voice blaring. Charles!. Erik opened his eyes to confirmed his observations.

[brooklynislandgirl]

REY IVERS

The Name Game || Accepting

R: When’s the last time they had a birthday party?

It has been nearly a year since the little sand gremlin has come to live with her and she’s fairly certain she’s curbed the girl’s teeth so far. She still isn’t entirely sure that she’s ever wanted an apprentice or that she does even now. But she has never directly disobeyed the Living Force before and in outright taking the child from Luke, she hasn’t yet.

She also promised herself that she would do things differently than all the failed masters before her.  She doesn’t know when the girl was born. Rey hardly knows more than a guess at her age, which biological scans confirmed. So rather than celebrating the day of her birth, which neither of them are an authority on, Keni instead chooses to mark the girl’s anniversary of arriving on Zelos.

Breakfast for the girl is sweetened tea and pastries from the village market. Her gifts are not precisely wrapped in any specific way and might not be remarkable to anyone who has never been a Jedi. First, they are Rey’s and Rey’s alone. From the ribbons in a modest riot of colours, to the new robes. But there is...one. It is a small mechanical bird on a branch, all made in native metals. When the key in the base is turned, the bird sings a lullaby. One Keni remembers only as what her father would sing to her when dreams came heavy to her mind. The same one she would hum to Anakin ~because she isn’t a talented singer~ when his heart was so heavy she thought it might give out there in circle of her arms. It is one of the few things that hold any real meaning for Keni that isn’t touched by remembrance of the Order.

It’s funny to think that she should be so nervous over the opinion of a child.

E: Are they the happiest they’ve ever been?  

Keni hasn’t been happy for years, that feeling went to it’s grave when she lost her heart. The best she strives for most days is to not feel grief. To be content in knowing some day the Force will reunite her with her lost loves.  This she doesn’t speak of, and rather prefers to ignore the question when it is brought up to her. Conversely, her father has much to say about the subject because he has the unique perspective of being quite the same as his daughter, and can better explain her than she can herself. How she’s merely a ghost of her former self, and how he misses the young woman she used to be.

Y: What movie could they watch over and over again?

Not that Rey ever does but sometimes if she is up and about late at night there are sounds that come from her Master’s sleeping area. The flicker of old holovids. That jump and jerk from age, dancing beneath Melakeni’s delicate fingertips as she traces the line of a tired smile here, a stray curl there. She watches them as fervently as the Faithful pray.  Clips of the Hero without Fear, as they called him, the Jedi hero of the Clone Wars. She relives those moments, lets the faded images remind her of different times and all the emotions of them.

But she never finds the epiphany she’s chasing within them, no matter how many times she goes back or pauses a particular frame. Nor does she invite discussion of them come the morning.

I: In general, are they organized or messy?

The phrase “one could eat off the floors” while disgusting is not untrue. There is not a single mote of dust courageous enough to brave landing on any of the immaculate surfaces within the lodge. Rey could pick any single object in any individual room and move it a single fraction of a centimetre and Keni would notice immediately the second she comes inside.

It is neither a hold out from having been a Jedi, they didn’t have anything to really worry about keeping orderly ~except for the pillows she collected from a source she’d never named. Neither is it something that she had experienced before having gone to the Temple, her fathers staff always took care of such things. The truth might lie closer to her need for control over her immediate environment, enforcing her will in the least destructive way possible, combined with a lifetime of being a healer and needing to work in sterile spaces, a luxury she did not often have during the wars.

V: They’ve been arrested, who is their one phone call to?

Her lips curl back slowly, reminiscent of a snarling Loth-wolf. Perhaps intentionally, perhaps a legacy of the saga of Melakeni’s life long before the little sand gremlin came into the narrative. Perhaps it is a little jaggedly feral combination of both.

“I promise you that if someone were to come and try to arrest me...there would be screaming.”

When she was a child still able to carry wonder about the Order she would have immediately said she would call upon her Master. She cannot now recollect when last she had seen him but the man certainly had an undeniable Presence. Not unlike her father when he is moved to genuine anger. There was always something dark, palpably menacing about her Master and she feared him and loved him in equal measures. But time has a way of moving on. During those best years of her life, she wouldn’t even have to think before automatically reaching out to Anakin. Not that she could imagine him being so far away, especially after the rise of the Empire. But they needn’t be within thousands of star systems to feel one another as closely as if they were side by side, hands locked together with forever entwined fingers. No, they were rarely two individuals within the Force and she learned to live that way. Which made the breaking of it so excruciating. She hasn’t felt truly alive since.

And now? Now she has herself. Let whomever the girl can imagine come and take her. Keni has nothing left to lose.

E: Are they the happiest they’ve ever been?  

Knees pressed against the bottoms of his shoulders, skin slick with sweat and tears. Arms wrapped around his neck as her head lolls back between her own shoulders, a groaned sigh of bliss escaping between her teeth. He shifts to press kisses against her exposed throat, damp curls framing his face and his neck, dark gold in the dimmest of light.

They are drunk. Not in the traditional sense although they’d maybe indulged a little beforehand. Tiny sugar crystals still cling a little to the corners of his mouth. She doesn’t ask him if they feel like sand, she imagines they do and she doesn’t want to spoil this moment.

They move one entity, without conscious thought. He sprawls his impossibly long limbs in such a way to stretch and yet curl up around her and instinctively she rests her head against his chest. Listens to the sound of his heart as it starts to slow.

The Force between, around, within them is replete with every shade of love they have ever shared, deepened by this stolen moment of quiet peace and togetherness. In this moment between them there exists no Empire and no galaxy beyond the door and windows. There exists no demands or sorrow. In this moment, Anakin is as whole as he can be, and she has no words to express how that makes her feel.

It will too soon be over. 

So she memorises the taste of him in her mouth, and the heat rising off his skin and soaking into hers. She memorises the exact blue ~darkened now as he struggles to keep them open~ of his eyes as she puts a hand down for leverage and rises up above him to get a better view. Her hair falls into his face, the curtain of night with no stars or moons to give a sense of time.

“Keni? Are you okay?” The question rumbles up from his depths, deep and full of concern and she can see the lines start to gather at the corners of his mouth, his eyes. The seeds of fear that he has done something wrong. That guilt that is only a step or two behind him when it hasn’t choked his entire being like weeds.

“Of course. I am in love with you and I am happy. Maybe for the first time. Maybe for always. How could I be any better?”

In true Anakin fashion, he starts to list things he think she might enjoy more until she laughs and silences him with a kiss. The Living Force in that moment is blindingly bright. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Keni shakes her head and glances down at the girl. The question had been innocuous. Knowing that is what keeps her from snapping jaws at her apprentice. “No. But I am content. Finish transplanting those seedlings into the new pots and you may have the rest of the day to yourself. Be sure you come in before the sun sets.

Keni sets her own trowel down and goes to the small sink in the corner of the green house, where she washes her hands before disappearing out the door without further conversation.

R: When’s the last time they had a birthday party?

“The Order did not promote such frivolous things.” 

This is not a lie, nor is it spoken of with any particular vehemence. The truth of the matter is that celebrating a being for simply being born took focus away from them as a servant of the Force, and served as a breeding ground for jealousy, arrogance, guilt, unhappiness. Any number of paths to the Dark Side. And perhaps there is truth in it but Keni suspects that the Council might have simply wanted to avoid uncomfortable questions about any particular padawan or Jedi’s ancestry and history outside of their indoctrination.

To admit to having a birthday was to acknowledge that there had been a parent or parents who had brought the child into the world. That there had been a time when the Order was not the most important thing in their lives, that they had not always lived and trained on Coruscant. And then questions would arise. Because of course they would. Questions that had no particular answer, that could not put the Masters in a particularly noble or concerned light.

And there is a tiny shade of dishonesty to her answer. Anakin and she were different than many of the others. They had childhoods that didn’t begin with the Temple. They could remember the small treats and special moments that Shmi sacrificed for. That her father had organised like a battle plan. And while those celebrations were diametrically opposed, they were similar in the fact that they’d been expressions of love.

And thus, secretly they celebrated together. It might only be a whispered wish in passing. A certain look on a certain day. Or it might be as extravagant as an actual gift smuggled in careful fashion to one another, no matter how far apart they happened to be.

“If you are curious, I was born at the cusp between Autumn and Winter. A time when the veil of the Force thins to allow easier communion with the dead, and when the sun wanes to give power to the moons.”

S: How do they tell someone they’re sorry?

It sounds like dead leaves bustled along the ground by a particularly cool wind. Once it might have been described as husky, warm, comforting. Her laugh might have once gone so scandalously far as to reach her eyes and give the brilliant, pellucid colour a preternatural vibrancy. Regardless, though, it’s still a laugh. One that doesn’t mock Rey but is sharp and brittle and not a little unpleasant. “For the sake of the four moons, child, what makes you think I have ever been sorry enough to apologise...for anything?”

[zanderscreations]

Celebrate Spring with Aquamarine

As striking as the seawater it gets its name from, the aquamarine has surpassed its duties as the March birthstone and become a popular alternative engagement ring stone. When faceted, aquamarine is remarkably transparent with vitreous brilliance, so it REALLY sparkles.

A favorite among designers for many reasons, the aquamarine is the perfect spring accessory. Its shades range from a pale blue to a strong seafoam blue-green, with deeper shades being a little more valuable. The stone is rather durable and affordable, making it the perfect choice for an everyday piece of jewelry.

In observance of March’s birthstone, here are 18 facts about aquamarine:

Buying and Care

Aquamarine is a part of the beryl stone family. It is joined by both emerald and morganite.  While they come from the same family, aquamarine and emerald stones are greatly different.

Aquamarine gemstones are graded by the four C’s, the same as diamonds- cut, color, clarity, and carat weight.

If you prefer your gem to be without inclusions, you may want to consider choosing a pale, near colorless aquamarine over a diamond. Faceted aquamarine gemstones are typically free of inclusions that are visible to the naked eye.

Unlike most other gemstones, the larger the aquamarine stone is, the more intense its color could be. An aquamarine over five carats will usually have a deeper hue and the smaller gems will appear near colorless. As such, smaller natural aquamarine stones that have a deeper color will sell for more per carat than their bigger deeply colored counterparts. Simply, it is more difficult to find a deeply colored one-carat aquamarine than it is to find a deeply colored five-carat stone- which increases their value.

Rated between a 7.5 and an 8 on the Mohs scale, the aquamarine is soft enough to accommodate a variety of cutting styles but hard enough to be considered for daily wear. While it is a strong stone, your aquamarine jewelry should not be stored near jewelry that ranks higher on the scale (such as diamonds and sapphires) as they have the potential to scratch it.

Different shades of aquamarine have been popular at different points in history. Today, the preferred shade is a pure, light sky blue. As such, some greenish colored stones are heat-treated to change their color to a lighter blue and improve their clarity. These changes are permanent.  It is nearly impossible to detect when heat treatment was performed, and it usually adds value to the gem because of the color improvement.

Unless it has an internal flaw, it is safe to clean aquamarine in an ultrasonic machine or steam cleaner. However, warm water, a mild dish soap, and a soft-bristled toothbrush work perfectly fine. You should avoid harsh chemicals.

History

The name aquamarine comes from the Latin words “aqua marina,” which means “seawater.” It got its name during the Georgian Era in the 18th century.

Protective amulets and decorative jewelry containing aquamarine have been found that date as far back as 500 B.C.

In 1936, the Brazilian government gifted Eleanor Roosevelt with a 1,298-carat faceted aquamarine gemstone. It is now located in the Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library and Museum in Hyde Park, New York.

The largest cut aquamarine in the world is on exhibit in the Natural History Museum at the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C. It is called the Dom Pedro and is an astounding 10,363 carats.

The largest gem-quality raw aquamarine stone was found in 1910 in the village of Minas Gerais, Brazil. It weighed around 243 pounds and was carved into over 100,000 carats of gemstones.

Aquamarine has been mined all over the world, including Colorado and California in the US. Kenya, Madagascar, Pakistan, and Russia are known to produce quality aquamarine gems; however, it is mainly sourced from Brazil.

Symbolism and Healing Properties

Not only is it the birthstone for March, but aquamarine is also the traditional stone for the 19th wedding anniversary. Fitting, as it was once thought to bring happiness to a marriage.

A long time ago, sailors believed aquamarine to be a treasure from mermaids and wore them in amulets to keep them safe at sea.

Because it is naturally free of any visible inclusions, the aquamarine is often used as a symbol of purity.

Throughout history, aquamarine has been prized as a protector of mental health and well-being. Like the ocean brings a sense of calm, the aquamarine is a calming stone used by crystal healers to soothe nerves. It was used in the Middle Ages to lower anxiety.

Today, aquamarine symbolizes courage, faithfulness, and friendship.

With its ability to dazzle, it comes as no surprise that the aquamarine has been a favorite among gems for over 2,000 years. If you have a loved one with a birthday in March, why not surprise them with a gift that has lasting value, such as an aquamarine ring or pendant. There is nothing quite like a timeless piece of jewelry that shows someone how much you care.

Zander’s Creations is owned and operated by Wayne Cook of Mesa, Arizona. With 20 years of experience in fine jewelry design, he looks forward to helping you create the gift of your loved one’s dreams. Pre-designed jewelry pieces can be purchased online at ZandersCreations.com as well as on Etsy, or you can contact Wayne and he can help you with a custom design.

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Louisa May Alcott.

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