#and act as each other's beards at formal events

[theconfusedartist]

I feel like Alex would NOT be on social media, before or after becoming his virus self, but omg it's so funny to think about him posting this (would absolutely be considered crack) in a phone group chat

Alex: if you can't handle me at my

Alex: then you couldn't handle me at my

Alex: and you DEFINITELY can't handle me at my

[nomadomar]

The Office Transformation: Embracing the Arab Way

Chapter 4: Embracing the Transformation

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of Michael's apartment, casting a warm glow on the room. The soft hum of an Arabic language podcast played in the background, filling the air with the melodic sounds of a language that was slowly becoming more familiar to him. Michael sat at his desk, a cup of mint tea in hand, carefully tracing the Arabic script in his notebook. The once unfamiliar letters were now becoming second nature, each stroke a step closer to a new identity he was beginning to embrace.

It had been weeks since Michael made the conscious decision to fully commit to the transformation that had been brewing within him. The internal conflict that had once consumed him had not vanished entirely, but it had begun to quiet, replaced by a growing sense of purpose. Michael was no longer simply dabbling in a different culture; he was immersing himself in it, allowing it to shape his thoughts, his actions, and his very sense of self.

The decision to learn Arabic more seriously marked the first significant step in this journey. Michael had started attending language classes in the evenings, dedicating hours to studying the intricate grammar and expanding his vocabulary. The complexity of the language was challenging, but it also felt rewarding—each new word learned was a small victory, a piece of the puzzle that brought him closer to understanding not just the language, but the culture it represented.

Amir had been his guide through this process, offering support and encouragement at every turn. The two had grown closer, their friendship deepening as they spent more time together. Amir introduced Michael to various aspects of Arab culture—taking him to cultural events, sharing stories from his homeland, and inviting him to join his family for traditional meals. Michael found himself captivated by the richness and depth of the culture, drawn to the values of hospitality, generosity, and community that seemed to permeate every aspect of it.

One evening, as they sat in a small, bustling café, Amir shared with Michael the significance of the upcoming Eid celebration. “It’s a time of giving, of coming together with family and friends to celebrate our blessings and to remember those who are less fortunate,” Amir explained, his dark eyes reflecting the warmth and sincerity of his words.

Michael listened intently, feeling a deep sense of connection to the values Amir spoke of. He realized that these were principles he had always admired but had never truly incorporated into his own life. The more he learned, the more he felt a yearning to adopt these values as his own—not just as an outsider looking in, but as someone who lived them daily.

It wasn’t long before these values began to manifest in Michael’s everyday life. He started to prioritize acts of kindness and generosity, going out of his way to help others in small but meaningful ways. He found himself becoming more patient, more understanding, and more attuned to the needs of those around him. The change was gradual but noticeable, a shift in his demeanor that did not go unnoticed by those closest to him.

At home, Michael’s transformation became even more evident. He grew out his beard, trimming it neatly in a style that Amir had suggested. He began wearing traditional Arab attire at home, finding comfort in the loose-fitting garments that contrasted with the rigid formality of his work clothes. His apartment, once sparse and impersonal, now held touches of Arab culture—a small prayer mat in the corner, a set of intricately designed tea glasses on the kitchen counter, and a bookshelf filled with Arabic literature.

But as Michael’s transformation became more visible, so did the resistance from those around him. At work, the subtle tension that had begun to build in the previous weeks now became more pronounced. Colleagues who had once been friendly began to distance themselves, their curiosity giving way to discomfort. Karen, who had been the first to notice the changes in Michael, now watched him with a mixture of skepticism and concern, her playful teasing replaced by thinly veiled judgment.

One afternoon, during a lunch break, Michael overheard a conversation between two of his coworkers. “Have you noticed how much Michael has changed lately?” one of them whispered, glancing in his direction. “It’s like he’s trying to be someone he’s not.”

The words stung, but Michael kept his composure, pretending not to hear. He knew that his transformation was unsettling to some, that it challenged their perceptions of who he was and what he represented. But he also knew that this was a path he had chosen for himself, and he was determined to see it through, regardless of the reactions of others.

The tension at home was more difficult to navigate. His parents, who had always been supportive of his decisions, were now struggling to understand the changes they saw in their son. During a Sunday dinner, his mother’s worried expression had deepened as she watched him speak about his newfound practices with enthusiasm.

“Michael, we just don’t want you to lose yourself in all of this,” his mother had said gently, her voice tinged with concern. “It’s important to stay true to who you are.”

Michael had taken a deep breath, trying to find the right words to reassure her. “I’m not losing myself, Mom. I’m just… evolving. I’m trying to find a sense of purpose and belonging that I didn’t have before.”

His father had remained silent, his serious gaze fixed on Michael as if trying to understand the person sitting before him. The disconnect between them was palpable, a growing chasm that Michael wasn’t sure how to bridge.

Despite the challenges, Michael found solace in his friendship with Amir and the sense of community he had begun to build within the Arab cultural practices he was adopting. He started attending the mosque with Amir, participating in prayers and learning more about the faith that was so deeply intertwined with the culture. The experience was both humbling and enlightening, offering him a glimpse into a world that was at once foreign and familiar.

One evening, after a particularly moving prayer session, Amir and Michael sat together on the steps of the mosque, watching the sun set over the city. The sky was painted in shades of orange and pink, a serene backdrop to the moment of quiet reflection.

“Do you ever regret it?” Michael asked softly, breaking the silence. “Embracing this culture, this way of life?”

Amir shook his head, a gentle smile on his lips. “Never. It’s a part of who I am, and it’s given me a sense of purpose and direction that I wouldn’t trade for anything.”

Michael nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. He realized that this was the path he had been searching for, the sense of belonging and identity that had eluded him for so long. The journey had not been easy, and the road ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time in his life, he felt as though he was exactly where he was meant to be.

As the days turned into weeks, Michael’s transformation continued to unfold. He became more comfortable in his new identity, more confident in the choices he was making. The resistance from others no longer weighed on him as heavily, replaced by a quiet resolve to stay true to the path he had chosen.

He knew that there would be more challenges ahead, more moments of doubt and uncertainty. But he also knew that he had found something real, something that resonated deeply within him. And as he walked through the city streets, the call to prayer echoing in the distance, Michael felt a sense of contentment that he had never known before.

The winds of change had carried him far from the person he had once been, but they had also brought him closer to the person he was meant to become. And as he looked towards the future, Michael knew that he was ready to embrace whatever came next, with a heart full of hope and a spirit unafraid of transformation.

The Office Transformation: Embracing the Arab Way Chapter 1: The Arrival Chapter 2: The Influence of Amir Chapter 3: Internal Struggles and Social Tension Chapter 4: Embracing the Transformation Chapter 5: The Complete Transformation

[youngsuitedboi]

A very special relationship

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Sir continued to enjoy the view from his cameras, witnessing the morning routine of the two boys. Once their alarm woke them up, boys would get out of their bed. They would approach, hug, and share a single morning kiss—a simple gesture that spoke volumes. It was a way for them to acknowledge each other's presence and support.

Sir had implemented a showering routine. Although not explicitly instructed to wash each other, they did so willingly. Tom delighted in washing Alex's body, while Alex carefully dried Tom's body, which often shivered from the lingering shower's chill.

After showering, the boys dressed in the formal clothes Sir had provided. They felt a sense of power in their suits, yet the truth was far different. They were owned, chaste, and collared at all times. Since the day they put on their cages during their private ceremony, they had not been allowed out of them. They had grown accustomed to the constant arousal, seeking ways to manage it through kisses, conversation, cuddles, and hugs. But they remained perpetually horny, fulfilling Sir's desires for them.

They maintained the tradition of Alex tying Tom's tie each morning, an activity they both looked forward to.

Following breakfast and their final kiss, they bid each other goodbye and set off to their respective jobs and classes. 

Tom was always the first to return home, ensuring the flat was clean and preparing dinner for Alex. These acts of care demonstrated to Sir the depth of their affection. He appreciated these expressions.

Roughly a month after the bedroom transformation, Tom arrived home from university. He undressed in the hallway and carried his clothes to the bedroom. On his way he noticed an envelope on the kitchen table. It startled him, knowing that something new and unexpected awaited him. Besides the envelope lay a rope, a puzzling sight.

Setting his clothes aside, Tom opened the envelope, revealing another message from Sir:

Dear boys,

From the moment this envelope is opened, your lives will change once again. This time, the change will be drastic, but I believe you can handle it.

"What will change?" you may ask. Firstly, you are no longer allowed to speak to each other while inside the apartment. Important communication should be conveyed via text message. No voicemails or calls are permitted, even when outside the flat. I believe your emotions can be expressed through body language. However, as an act of benevolence, I will allow each of you to say three final words to each other. Choose them wisely.

Secondly, you may have noticed the rope on the table. It is 1.5 meters long and will be used to keep you tethered to each other. I've grown tired of searching for both of you through all the cameras. This way, you will always be together.. 

Although you may no longer speak, you will spend all your time in each other's presence, and I believe you will come to love it. Attach the rope to your collars the moment you both enter the apartment and remove it as the last step before leaving.

Have fun!

With love, 

Sir

Tom was devastated. Tears streamed down his face as he read the letter. He couldn't fathom the idea of not being able to talk to Alex, to ask him about his day. Everything they had shared was now gone. Tom had never anticipated such a turn of events. It made him sad. 

An hour later, Alex arrived home, greeted by Tom on his knees in the hallway. Tom signalled for him to remain quiet. Alex took off his jacket and walked towards Tom. Tom hugged Alex while still on his knees and Alex stroked Tom´s head. They both started to undress Alex - a familiar routine they had mastered. They knew exactly what to do and when. It felt like a ballet performance. Once Alex was undressed, in his cage and collar only, he looked almost exactly like Tom. Their haircuts were the same, with the only noticeable difference being that Alex was allowed to grow a beard and body hair, while Tom remained smoothly shaved.

Now it was time for Tom to introduce the new element - the rope. To Alex´s surprise, Tom attached the rope to both of their collars in no time. That´s when Tom handed the letter to Alex to read. 

Alex´s reaction to the letter was very similar to Tom´s. Alex did not want to show he was crying but there were tears coming down his cheeks, too. Luckily for him, Tom was there to wipe them off for him.      

They stood there, less than a meter and a half apart, desiring to be as close as possible. They hugged, kissed, and understood that it was time for their last three words.

Tom, who had had more time to contemplate, went first, his voice trembling, "I love you."

“Love you forever!” said Alex.

[mrs-dr-reid]

My Personal Ted Lasso Headcanons (Part 1/?)

Chronic nose booper. If he doesn't lovingly boop your nose at least once every hour or so, something is horribly wrong

Has an entire playlist dedicated to songs he likes to dance with you in the kitchen to, and he named it "kitchen dance parties with *insert whatever pet name he has for you* <3"

Always has to be touching you (poor touch starved baby). Whether he has his arms wrapped around you from behind or he has a hand at the small of your back, as long as he has at least one point of contact with you, he's happy

He memorized your coffee or tea order, and he'll always bring you your beverage and leave with a kiss on the top of your head

He always tests new dad jokes on you, but only the ones that are almost painful with how corny they are. If you squeeze your eyes shut and let out a groan before laughing begrudgingly, he knows it's a good joke

Loves helping you pick out your outfits. Whether it be for a regular work day or a formal event for AFC Richmond you two are attending, he'll gladly sit on the end of the bed and be your personal hype man as you model your different options for him

He teaches himself how to braid hair after a particularly rough panic attack, so now when you notice him starting to get really anxious, you plop in front of him and ask him to braid your hair for you to redirect his nervous energy to something else

His favorite thing to do on rainy days off is to curl up on the couch and read with you. Well, he reads his own book and you read yours, but you have your feet in his lap the whole time (parallel play girlies unite)

He uses the most ridiculous pet names imaginable for you. You're saved in his phone as something like "Honey Pie", he calls you "Sugar Bear" and all the most absolutely absurd things he can possibly think of, but it's so cute that you just let it happen

Accidentally uses UBER southern idioms and metaphors in front of the Greyhounds from time to time, and only realizes it when the locker room goes completely silent and everyone is staring at him with super confused looks on their faces. He once said that a rival team was acting like they thought the sun came up just to hear them crow, and he was met with confused stares from everyone except Beard, who nodded in agreement

He never fails to kiss you goodnight. Even if he's at an away game, he texts you a video of him blowing you a kiss and wishing you sweet dreams

You make him a skincare routine, and he follows it like it's a religion. He even takes notes on your skincare routine and replaces products for you when he notices they're running low. It's one of his favorite nighttime rituals to do with you

Loves it when you wear his clothes. When you come into the kitchen wearing one of his Kansas City Barbecue shirts, it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to start drooling. But he especially loves it when you steal his sweaters because you look so soft and cozy in them

He stress bakes when the more high-profile matches start popping up, and he sends you into work with so many baked goods that half of your co-workers have to sign a cease and desist because they've ruined diets because of Ted's goodies

He packs you a lunch every day to take into work, and you do the same for him. In fact, he once sent you a video of him showing off all the yummy things you put in his lunch to the team, and you almost died laughing when you heard Jamie yell "COACH, CAN I BORROW YOUR LADY?!?!?! I WANT A LUNCH LIKE THAT!!!" in the background

He doesn't understand the world's obsession with reality dating shows like The Bachelor/The Bachelorette and Love Island. He once came home to find you watching The Bachelor, and he said, "I don't get why people think it's so fun to watch other people's dating drama. This particular show also glorifies pitting women against each other, and I don't like that", which made you roll your eyes lovingly at him

He tries to be hip and use modern slang, but it never goes well for him and just ends up making himself sound old. He once said, "What in tarnation is a gyat and who is this rizzler everyone is sticking it out for?", and you almost died of cringe. Jamie especially picks on him for it, albeit lovingly

Never fails to show you how much he loves you. Of course he always tells you, but he also shows it in the little things he does for you, like giving you his jacket when it's cold, giving you his arm whenever you two are walking anywhere together, and looking directly at you while you're telling a story to show he's actively listening to you

[ilovefandoms102]

Keep On Loving You-Part4*

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Life after the events of the RSDR…

Note: OOOF THE GIF🥵 this man makes me want to act up so bad 😍😍😍 It’s been a hot second since I wrote part 3 for this so hopefully this was worth the wait!

Also wanted to wish everyone a Happy New Year!

Warnings🛑: smut(heavy breeding kink, oral(fem and male receiving), unprotected anal sex, rimming, lots of butt stuff😵‍💫, dom/sub aspects, beard kink🤪, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting, overstim), marriage, mentions of pregnancy, reverse proposal(bc fuck society)

Part 3

Months flew by, Ari and I couldn’t be happier. Sarah wasn’t too happy about her ex-husband having someone new in his life(or his bed), especially considering it was someone she’d been so jealous of in the past. Maya seemed to take a liking to me which I was so grateful for, she was happy to see her daddy smile again…

“Miss y/n, will you come play with my dolls?” she’d asked timidly.

Ari had her for the weekend and wanted his two favorite girls to spend more time together, and how could I say no to two cute faces?

“Of course sweet girl, I would love to play.” I giggled, kissing her forehead as I followed her to her room.

Ari couldn’t keep himself from watching us, I could feel his stare on us as. I looked over my shoulder, catching him red handed. I winked at him, laughing more as he not so subtly squeezed his manhood.

“Will you stay for dinner y/n?” the little girl asked, a gleam of hope in her beautiful eyes.

“If daddy is ok with it I will absolutely stay.” I smiled, glancing back over at my man.

“Daddy is definitely ok with having both his girls at dinner.” Ari replied, Maya cheering as she leaped into my arms.

I giggled as I held her, giving her cheek a quick kiss before we went back to playing.

Ari and I laid in bed that night, snuggled up after a very long and loving session of him laying his claim to me. Our naked bodies were pressed together, lips sensually feeling the other's skin.

“What if we had a baby?” he asked, making me freeze up.

“Ari-” I started, distracted as his lips began traveling down my neck.

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet to my baby, now I need one from you.” he hummed lovingly.

“I-I don’t think I’d be a good mom.” I muttered, squirming as his big hands kneaded my breasts.

“Imagine these being all full with milk to feed our baby, and me.” he smirked, tweaking a nipple gently.

“Ari,” I moaned, already picturing him holding a little bundle.

“You, my love, will be a fantastic mother. Maya adores you, and you love kids.” he pointed out, his other hand sliding down my stomach.

“I do,” I gasped, arching into him as his lips replaced his fingers on my nipple.

“Mmmm, so what do you say honey?” he asked, rubbing the lower area where a baby would sit in my belly.

“One condition,” I bit my lip mischievously.

“You’re up to something my naughty girl.” he chuckled, kissing up the valley of my breasts until he got to my lips.

“I want a ring, and your last name.” It was now my turn to smirk.

“You proposing?” he grinned as I ran my fingers through his long locks.

“I am, and you better say yes.” I said as I nipped at his luscious bottom lip.

“How could I not say yes to my girl, the love of my life hmm?” he murmured as he kissed me fiercely.

I whined against his lips as he pulled away, chasing after his lips.

“I love you,” he whispered, my heart felt like it would burst.

“I love you Ari, so much.” I whispered back against his lips, smiling as I kissed him.

We went to the courthouse the next day, signing all the paperwork for me to become Mrs.Levinson, and then we were officially wed. I knew if my mother were here, she’d be raging for us not having a formal wedding. Ari and I never did things the normal way though, even the first time we dated we’d never done things the usual way.

It was something I loved dearly about us, something I’d missed those years of us being apart. People who love each other, always find a way back. I knew Ari and I would cross paths again all those years ago, even if I’d been so stubborn to admit it. I’d never stopped loving him, and now, now I was tied to him forever.

“So, what shall we do now Mrs.Levinson?” Ari asked me as we got in his car.

“I say, we go home and you put a baby in me.” I grinned, giggling when Ari slammed on the gas.

Once we were back to our now shared apartment, we only just made it through the door before Ari spun me around, and pinned me against the door. His nose buried itself in my neck, inhaling my scent deeply as his hands felt down my body.

“My pretty little wife, can’t wait to see you all full and round with our baby.” he murmured, yanking my dress up so he could rip my panties to shreds.

“Yeah daddy?” I smirked, his growl made me shiver with pleasure.

“Fuck baby, I haven’t even done anything and you’re pussy is soaked.” he hummed as he slid his deft fingers through my folds.

“Mmmm ‘cause I get so wet just thinking about you my love.” I moaned softly, the tips of his fingers slowly circling my clit.

“Yeah?” he teased, chuckling darkly as I swiveled my hips down on his hand.

“Please Ari, more.” I whined, which earned me a hard smack to my ass.

“Patience momma, gotta get you all warmed up for me.” he spoke against my neck.

“Daddy, don’t wanna wait.” I huffed, eager to feel his huge cock split me open.

Ari hummed deep in his chest, his warmth leaving my back as he turned my body to face him. I gasped as he lifted me in the air, parking my legs over his shoulders. I couldn’t contain the scream of his name as he shoved his face in my wet center, going at it like a man starved. My toes curled hard, my hands fisting his long hair as I twitched in his hold.

His biceps bulged as he held me, squeezing my ass hard purposefully so he could see his marks. There was no possible escape as I became overwhelmed, my orgasm approaching head on.

“Baby-” I panted, my eyes snapping closed.

“It’s alright honey, let me have it.” he assured me as he suckled my clit in his mouth.

I cried out as my orgasm hit, my body convulsing against the wall. Ari held me tight, shaking his head so he could get deeper in my pussy. Stars appeared in my vision, my toes still tingling, but Ari made no moves to stop.

“So tasty,” he murmured, licking a long stripe up.

“Sensitive baby,” I sobbed, trying to push his soaked beard away.

“I could eat you all day Mrs.Levinson,” Ari smirked, sliding me down so my legs were wrapped around his waist.

“Maybe one day.” I giggled, unable to resist kissing his pretty lips.

Ari sat on the couch with me straddling his lap, pulling my dress over my head so I was fully exposed to him. I quickly pulled his shirt off, feeling down his chest. His defined muscles jumped under my touch, my fingers fumbled with his pants before I stood to get them off.

I had a sudden urge, pushing Ari back on the couch so he was on his back. He gave me a curious glance, but it soon turned hard as I sat between his legs. I took his cock in my mouth, getting it nice and wet as I suckled on the head. Ari let out a pretty broken moan, unable to take his eyes off me. My fingers trailed lower to his pretty hole, Ari jumped at the sudden intrusion.

“Baby, careful.” he growled, but I only smirked as I left his cock and kissed my way down to his perfect ass.

I couldn’t resist burying my face into him, slurping and nipping at his hole that clenched at my tongue. I moaned against him when he stuttered my name in pleasure, my free hand reached around to stroke him in time with my tongue twirling.

“Oh god honey, just like that.” he panted, falling back into the couch.

I couldn’t resist taking a long lick from his hole to the top of his cock, getting a good look of how fucked out my husband looked. His chest heaved, cheeks were flushed, and his long hair was plastered to his forehead from sweating. I grinned as I went back down, finishing what I started. Ari didn’t last that much longer, I even got a finger inside him once he’d completely relaxed. It joined along my tongue while I continued to pump his cock with my other hand.

“Fuck-fuck ‘m gonna cum baby.” he heaved out, shouting as his cum spurted out all over his abs and my hand.

I licked him clean along with my hand, triumphantly smiling at him. His legs were still shaking when he pulled me down to him, smashing his lips to mine in a very nasty, tongue filled kiss.

“You got my ass, now I’ll have yours.” he smirked, standing from the couch with me in his arms.

He threw me on our bed, crawling between my legs like a lion catching its prey. God this man was so fucking hot, my man, my husband. Suddenly I was on my stomach, Ari slapping each asscheek before putting me on my knees. I heard faint rustling and the sound of a bottle opening before I felt an odd substance at my ass.

“Just some lube baby, relax for me.” Ari soothed as he felt me tense.

He smeared the liquid around, kissing my spine gently. I felt myself calming when he entered a finger, gently moving and twisting it about. When I was ready, he added another. It burned at first, but I could slowly feel the pleasure in my belly. I moaned his name when his free hand stimulated my clit, making it even easier for him to stretch me out.

“Think you’re ready for me my love?” he asked, nipping at my asscheeks.

“Yes honey, please.” I whined, gasping when he pulled his fingers out.

Ari lubed his cock up before lining his cock up to my ass, gently pushing it in. My mouth fell open in a silent scream, my entire body began shaking. I’d never thought I could feel such intense pleasure, amplified by Ari’s manipulation to my clit.

“Fuck-sh-shit baby-baby need you t’ relax for me, squeezin’ me so hard gonna cum.” Ari gasped, his free hand trailed from my shoulder down my spine in a gentle brush.

“Can’t-oh fuck-feels too good honey.” I whimpered, gripping the sheets for dear life.

I audibly gasped when Ari was pushed to the hilt, he was panting above me as we both tried to calm ourselves. I cried out when he started moving, speeding his long fingers up on my clit.

“Such a good wife for me, letting me take your pretty ass while I play with your clit.” Ari grinned wickedly, his free hand slapping my asscheek for emphasis.

“Gonna pump both your holes with my cum, fill you with babies.” he grunted, slamming into me faster.

“I want it so bad baby, please!” I whined, throwing my head back as he hit a spot inside of me that sent pleasure spikes through me.

Ari smirked as he watched my ass take his cock while my pussy drenched my thighs and the sheets below, sneaking his other hand down and sticking three fingers in me. I screamed his name, my orgasm waving unexpectedly as I squirted all over the bed and him. My body spasmed violently, tears flew down my cheeks.

“Good girl, you’re ok baby.” Ari soothed, grunting as I clenched hard around him.

“Cum in my ass Ari.” I sobbed, pushing as best I could back against him.

Ari growled as he pounded his hips faster, not long before he released. It was an odd feeling of his cum being there instead of my pussy, but nonetheless I still loved it because I loved him. I collapsed on the bed, Ari following me as he gently fell beside me.

Slowly, he removed himself to not hurt me, laying a kiss to my right asscheek. I giggled at the cute gesture, humming in content when he kissed my lips. He got a sudden twinkle in his eye, he was up to something.

“Lift your leg around my waist baby.” he smirked, my bottom lip coming between my teeth as I did so.

Ari moved closer, his cock already hard again slapped against my thigh. My eyes fluttered when he slowly inserted his cock in my drenched core, my nails digging into his shoulder as he cursed loudly. I rolled my hips into him, mewling when I felt him nudge my gspot.

“Oh-fuck I-I feel you so deep.” I panted, sifting my fingers through his long locks.

Ari hummed and kept a steady pace, leaving hot kisses down my neck while his hands fondled my breasts. I couldn’t help the loud moan that escaped when his tongue flicked at my hardened nipples, holding his head there and my belly began to flutter.

“Gonna give you a baby, make your belly so round and your tits full of milk.” Ari growled, rutting into me even faster.

“Oh please, please honey.” I whined, bucking my hips against his.

“Cum baby, cum on your husband’s cock.” he smiled maliciously, reaching a thumb down rubbing my clit hard.

“Fuck!” I squealed, shuddering in his arms as I came again.

Ari bit my shoulder, my pussy milked his cock as he came inside of me. We rode out each other’s highs, I had to push Ari’s hand away from my clit as I quickly became sensitive after the hours of our love making.

Pregnant

I stared at the two lines on the four tests I’d taken, my eyes shining with tears of joy. I giggled to myself, holding a hand over my mouth as the tears fell.

“Babe? You alright?” Ari asked from behind the closed door.

“Yes! Come in, please.” I sniffled, grinning when Ari’s face came into view after entering our bathroom.

“So?” he asked, and I pulled him to the tests.

He stared in awe, his own smile stretching his full lips. This was the best moment in my life aside from being with Ari again, and becoming Mrs.Levinson. This was the happiest I’d been in the years I spent away from him, but it was worth every struggle to get to this very moment. Ari took me in his arms, kissing my lips hard and hot. I moaned softly, caressing his beard I loved.

Now, we began building our family.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Harry ignoring Olivia on the red carpet and while they were sitting down to watch the movie etc. feels icky to me. Like until what, a week ago(?) she was at all of his shows and they were going strong (I don’t think they are dating for real but you get my gist), but now it kind of gives me the vibe he’s trying to ignore her to distance himself from her and the bad press she’s been getting. Even though he was totally fine to play up their (fake, I think) relationship for press or as a bearding situation or what have you. Which is fine, but i feel annoyed that he doesn’t just suck it up now and act like a supportive bf or at least a friendly coworker(!!) when things are weird and tense. I’m explaining this badly but it just makes me shake my head and saw grow the fuck up Harry and do or say something real and don’t just weasel out of a situation that is maybe uncomfortable now when this is a person you’ve been spending significant amounts of time with for over a year and reaping the benefits of the public relationship. Does that make sense?

I've got a lot of anons about how what Harry did in Venice. I'm going to respond specifically to this one about Harry ignoring Olivia an then I'm going to respond to a bunch about the dynamic more widely.

I saw a lot of this sort of comment - and I genuinely don't understand it. As I understand it there were three people who didn't interact with each other in the formal events: Harry, Florence and Olivia. But fandom has talked about it as if Harry ignored Olivia (always with the undertone that this was bad for Olivia) and the Florence and Olivia ignored each other. Nothing about Olivia also ignoring Harry and Florence and Harry ignoring each other.

I think the most likely explanation for what happened is that Harry and Olivia and their teams and the movie's PR people all decided that any interaction would be too heavily surveilled and high risk and it'd be best not to interact. I could be wrong about that.

Whatever happened both Harry and Olivia actively made a choice to pursue it. The fact that so many people (for very different reasons) have turned it into something Harry did to Olivia is interesting - but it also must be rejected by people who are interested in understanding what happened.

[guiltysecretpasttime]

bumi + lin getting caught or how everyone found out about their relationship :-))))

Title: Discretion

Note: Here’s what I have for this particular Lin/Bumi II prompt. Hope you enjoy 😊

· Pairing: Lin/Bumi II

· One-shot, post-series AU

· Rating: Teen

-----

Bumi was whistling as the hustle and bustle around Air Temple Island continued in preparation for Varrick’s wedding. Why they allowed the wedding and the party on the island, he had no idea.

He watched the tired teenagers who were hovering excitedly around the affianced. He supposed they all deserved some sort of merrymaking after what he had dubbed in his mind as the Kuvira Incident. It also was not a bad idea to have them use this time to work out their romantic entanglements, he thought as he eyed the various couples gravitating toward each other.

It also gave him a lovely excuse to meet up with his ownromantic entanglement.

The former military man faced the city pensively.

He frowned as the water lapped against the shore. The sun continued to shine brightly even as the buildings at the island across showed devastation, some still slightly smoldering days after the attack.

The Kuvira Incident did put things into perspective.

Well, that went dark quickly.

He blinked away grim thoughts and focused instead on the fairy lights being hung around the courtyard.

As he decided earlier, they all deserve some merrymaking.

---

“What are you doing skulking around?” Bumi asked the lady in green, who was looking down at a kebab that had seemed to have displeased her.

Lin Beifong scoffed. “I am not.” And continued to examine the mystery meat on the stick.

Bumi sauntered closer to her, standing at her side, joining her quiet observation of the party. “What on earth did that kebab do to you?” He waved his free hand to said meat on a stick; his other hand occupied with helping him take a swig of whatever fruity punch Varrick was serving.

She bit it furiously while rolling her eyes. “It’s a bit tasteless, if you must know.”

Bumi bit back a laugh and just hummed.

While she could eat instant noodles as well as any cadet living off rations, Lin did have her snobby side to food when it comes to social events thrown by the upper-class.

“Then again, Varrick is tasteless when it comes to most things.” Lin added, her scowl scaring off a Nuktuk-attired waiter who had the misfortune of glancing their way to offer more refreshments.

This time, Bumi let out a laugh, earning him a smirk from the metalbender.

“Well, that’s true. Let me join you in disparaging the libation too – not a single touch of alcohol in this drink.”

They stood there, at the fringe of the party crowd for a while – he sipping the vile drink, she chewing the tough meat.

“They allowed you to wear that?”

It took Bumi a moment to understand she meant his uniform. “I am a retired commander after all.” That and because he did not want to be dressed in formal wear that was almost identical to what his brother was wearing.

Lin swallowed her food. “Hmm, I've been thinking of that too…”

“Me in a military uniform?” Bumi waggled his eyebrows and received a smack on his arm. “You in my uniform?” Another smack.

“Retiring.” She said it so quietly he thought he must have misunderstood her.

He briefly wondered what could have made her arrive at a such a life-changing decision. Then again, if that meant that she would be closer to safety than danger…

“I don’t see why not?” He tossed back with a grin, noting the veiled concern on Lin’s face, worried about his reaction. “As long as it’s what you truly want.”

Lin’s posture relaxed after that.

They continued to sip and eat in silence.

They saw Rohan running at the other side of the court, weaving through the people who were starting to go to the dance floor. Huan was noticeably dragged by Ikki to dance (“Kid takes after her mother, doesn’t she?” Bumi murmured in jest, only to get an elbow to his side as Lin shook her head.).

As people went over to the dance floor, it would not be long before someone noticed the lady beside him. Chief of Police or not, she always did strike quite a figure. Without all the armor (literally and figuratively), it could be easily argued the Lin could be approachable.

He stood closer at her side. He twitched his pinky finger to touch hers.

Her eyes darted to him.

The mood of the party was happy and hopeful. He knew this feeling. He had seen this before. The sigh of relief and desperation for something good after a long hard military campaign.

His face remained cheerful and proceeded to talk about everything and nothing.

Lin’s expression softened. “Want to leave the party?” Her pinky finger hooked around his.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

As always, Lin was the only one who saw through him.

---

Propping himself up on his elbow, Bumi watched her sleep.

Lin had always been a light-sleeper. He got that – living with a constant threat hanging at their back or having a long career that required alertness and rapid reaction time does that to you. That was why it never ceased to amaze him that the metalbender manages to have long uninterrupted sleep whenever they were together.

Spirits knew how much she deserved to sleep in.

He had sighed in relief when Lin said she had lied last night. She had not just been thinking of retiring from the police force – she had already filed her retirement to both President Raiko and headquarters. And, in true efficient Beifong fashion, she had secured approval within days. He did not think she had fully recovered and taking a break (albeit a permanent one) was more than needed.

His eyes traced the dark eye bags and pale complexion. The rebuilding efforts and the ton of work post-Kuvira Incident took a toll on her.

Her skin, already marred with various scars and marks throughout the years, was much too pale. Each imperfection was linked with a story. Each story building up to who Lin was now today.

Her ankle had a small scar, almost invisible unless you knew where to look, from her childhood escapades.

There was the jagged scar, stitches very much apparent on her calf from her earlier days as a beat officer.

A smattering of bruises at her lower back was still present, souvenir from being tossed off the colossus.

Her shoulder, while exhibiting any outer trauma, was still healing from being dislocated from the same scrimmage with death.

There were more across her body, but the most recent ones were those that hit Bumi the hardest.

He was the one who found the Beifong sisters unconscious in the arm of the mecha giant.

He had been beyond terrified until found their respective pulses.

He feared it would have been too late for him, for them. Then Lin fluttered her eyes open, and, despite her shallow breaths, managed to croak out in a less than acerbic tone to help her down.

He mused now in the pale daylight that he ought to have done something then, said something then. He decided to rectify that now.

Before he could even reach over to wake her up in that delicious manner he was planning, several loud knocks beat at his door. He subconsciously tightened his grip around Lin’s waist.

“Bumi? Bumi!” Tenzin.

“We know you’re in there.” Su. “Open up!”

Bumi threw a worried glance at Lin, but she was still asleep and simply buried her face closer to his chest, ensconced under his fluffy comforter and buried under his equally soft pillows. He leaned back and closed his eyes, willing their unwanted siblings away.

Maybe if I pretended to be asleep, they would leave us alone…

Knock-knock-knock! A pause. Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock!

“Bumi!”

He closed his eyes tighter.

Knock-knock-knock!

“Wait a minute, maybe it’s unlocked anyway…”

What are they talking about?

Bumi found out soon enough when the sound of the door sliding open reached his ears.

“Bumi – I can’t find -!”

He sat up quickly, making sure Lin was comfortable and quite hidden from view.

His visitors stopped at the doorway, enough to trespass but not enough to take a full scan of the room.

“Ohhh, I’m – we’re – sorry –.” Tenzin stammered, quite apologetic for bursting in his brother’s room.

Su did not have the same misgivings. “Bumi has a lady friend!”

“He does?!” A new voice called out with shock.

Tenzin and Su, he can tolerate but having the kids over – Bumi decided he drew the line there.

Fight shock with shock.

He stood up quickly, unmindful of being seen in his birthday suit.

“Oh sweet Spirits Agni! Bumi! Cover yourself!”

“My eyesss!”

The Avatar and Bolin immediately shouted over gasps of shock.

Bumi stretched languidly, pretending that nothing was amiss. He will not be embarrassed. That was their problem, they were the ones who were invading his privacy.

To be fair, he had no issues about his nudity so it was not really a big issue. It was just that with Lin in his bed – well, the situation was a bit tricky. Fortunately, her face was still hidden under the comforter. He pulled it higher, never mind that part of her leg is still visible.

“To what do I owe this wake-up call?” Bumi scratched his beard, acting as though this was a normal occurrence. He did delight in making his brother uncomfortable. They became closer in the latter years. Old habits die hard though.

“Bumi, we apologize for barging in this morning.” Tenzin was looking over his shoulder. “But could you – at least -.” He waved at the general direction of the naked man.

Bumi took his sweet time going around the room to pull on some clean shorts.

Su took this opportunity to push out the kids out of the room, who he now saw included both pro-bending brothers, Asami, Opal, and the Avatar.

“Why is the entire cavalry here?” Bumi sauntered to the door, blocking everyone’s view of the room and angling his body to stand in the way of the bed. “What’s up?”

“It’s Lin.”

A beat.

“What about her?”

“She’s missing. I didn’t know when she went home last night.” Su wringed her hands in worry. “I called her house, no one answered. We went over and she wasn’t there.”

It annoyed Bumi how they were suddenly on Lin’s case when they barely said two words to her the night before. There was bound to be a hidden agenda to this sudden worry.

“Your sister is a grown woman and she's been taking care of herself without you lot for more than a decade now.

He scanned the faces around him.

Postures stiffened, Tenzin flinched, eyes avoided Bumi’s.

Yeah¸ that’s what I thought.

Su stomped lightly. “Regardless of that,” The woman was adamant and would not back down. “We intend to go to the station to report her missing, with or without your inputs.”

Mako looked downright uncomfortable, Bumi thought the boy genuinely cared for his mentor.

“Boy, anything you’d like to add, detective?” Bumi nodded at the firebender.

“We can’t file a missing person’s case unless the person has been missing for more than 24 hours.” Mako shifted his eyes.

“There you go. Drop the matter, Su. I’m sure Lin is fine.”

Su looked like she was about to argue and Tenzin was about to say something but Mako beat him to it.

Still not catching anyone’s eyes, Mako started. “And well, what if the Chief also had a lady friend like Bumi? Or a gentleman friend?”

Bumi almost snorted.

Gentleman friend, what?

The detective was looking ill now but props to the boy.

“Lin with a special friend is highly unlikely.” Lin’s sister said decidedly, waving off Mako’s theory.

Bumi snorted now. “Right, because you’d know, ain’t it right?”

“I don’t see why not?” Suyin frowned, crossing her arms.

Moments like this Bumi was reminded why Lin still held some form of dislike towards her sister.

Asami tried to mediate. “I don’t think Chief Beifong would appreciate her private life being discussed like this.”

Bumi knew he always liked the Sato girl, he nodded and added. “Please don’t do this to try to assuage your…guilt.”

As expected, there were reactions from Su and Tenzin.

“We are not -!”

“Nonetheless, Bumi, Lin is…” Tenzin’s words trailed off and color drained from his face as he continued to look over his brother’s shoulder.

Bumi knew the moment Tenzin realized who was in his bed. He quickly slid the door closed. He tried to meet his brother’s eye, but the man was resolutely looking away.

“Safe.” Tenzin managed to choke out. “Let’s go everyone, I’m sure Lin is very safe.”

Su turned on Tenzin, obviously shocked by his sudden change. “What are you talking about, Tenzin – we -.”

“If Bumi says Lin is okay, then she probably is.” Was the simple yet shifty response.

“But we need Lin to -!”

Opal elbowed her mother gently, asking her to drop the issue. It did not escape Bumi’s notice.

There was the hidden agenda – Su needs Lin for something.

The group scurried away as both Tenzin and Mako helped herding them away from the bedrooms.

---

Bumi figured it was too early to be dealing with anything.

He rejoined a sleeping Lin in bed, who in turn, burrowed into his side.

He will deal with the real world later. For now, he will enjoy this.

---

Ignoring Suyin who was still chattering about one thing or another (in all likelihood berating him for not supporting her call to search for her sister), Tenzin mulled over his earlier discovery.

Lin and Bumi are together.

Not just together but together – together.

He wringed with his hands as they walked to the dining hall.

How long have they been together?

He had thought that this knowledge would bother him – well, it did, he reconsidered, but not for the reasons he might have initially thought of.

It was bothering him the same way it would have bothered him to see any woman sleeping with his older brother.

He had reconciled with his siblings and the Beifongs in the recent years, but some things should have remained private between them.

Like Bumi’s sex life.

Like Lin’s sex life.

Like their sex life.

Oh, how he wished he gone back to the past few minutes when he was still blissfully unaware. Or he hoped he would have already forgotten the markings and scars on Lin’s legs in order to not have recognized her in his brother’s bed.

Ah well, Tenzin eyed Lin’s family, the Avatar, Bolin, Asami, and Mako walking beside him, here’s hoping they not find out soon.

He doubted greatly that Lin would enjoy her relationship being disclosed before she deemed it necessary.

He recalled Bumi’s stance earlier, how protective he was of an unknowing Lin.

End of the day, Tenzin just wanted both of them to find happiness. He had did them both wrong in their lifetime and was at a loss on how to rectify it. The airbender had been trying in the past years, but there was only so much he could do.

Too little, too late, he always thought.

Tenzin waved at the acolytes that were leaving the dining hall. Pema sat down beside him and smiled as she handed him the platter of food. He smiled back, thinking still how lucky he was to have her by his side.

And now, by some peculiar twist of fate, Bumi and Lin found each other.

And, if, they make each other happy and content, then, Tenzin decided then and there, he will support them in any way that he can.

---

“Bro, are you going to eat that last piece?”

Mako was shaken from his reverie. Bolin stabbed the food on his plate at his head shake.

“Are you alright, Mako?” Asami was always the sensitive and observant of the group.

The firebender tossed a look at the Avatar chatting with Bolin and Opal at the other side of the table. After making sure that they were preoccupied, he turned to Asami.

Asami raised her eyebrows at him. “Well?”

“I think I know where the chief is.” He could not help but dart a wary glance at the Beifongs. “But it’s not my place to say.” Mako quickly added.

Asami leaned back at her seat and looked at him quizzically. “How did you know where?”

Mako dropped his utensils on the plate and covered his face with his hands. He was not one of Lin’s proteges for nothing.

One of his strengths as a detective is his keen eye for detail.

And details did not evade him in that brief view of Bumi’s bedroom.

It was quite obvious to him that the strewn pieces of clothing belonged to someone he had seen in attendance in the wedding reception earlier.

And that someone is his commanding officer.

---

Said commanding officer made her presence known at the lunch table that noon, surprised at seeing everyone still on the island.

That Chief Beifong was not expecting that there were still other guests at the residential area of Air Temple Island was fairly obvious, as Bumi was walking beside her, whispering at her side with a smile.

The plan was, actually, for most of the guests to have already gone their own ways but that morning’s excursion to Republic City made everyone’s itinerary delayed and their breakfast turned into brunch.

She exchanged a look with Bumi who shrugged and tried to sit at one of the empty tables unnoticed.

Now, while Mako might have been blessed with a sense of discretion, the same cannot be expected of his brother.

This became much apparent when said brother had gaped and thoughtlessly exclaimed, “Lin! We’ve been looking for you all morning – at what corner of Air Temple Island did you sleep at? I doubt this is the walk of shame.”

This pronouncement drew the attention of everyone in the hall – attention at her (their) very late entry and at her clothes which were clearly too formal for the day.

No one dared speak up as the metalbender simply glared at the earthbender, not responding.

There was complete silence in the dining hall.

…until comprehension dawned on Suyin Beifong’s face.

Then all hell broke lose.

---end---

Note: That could have probably gone better but let me know what you think. Anon, hope that worked for you (feel free to leave a note/msg :) ) Hope everyone is doing good, at least.

[frostedfaves]

Sharp Edges

Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: “They say home is where your heart is, but what if my heart is six feet underground with you?”

Warnings: heavy angst, grieving, major death, depression, brief mention of implied vomiting, funeral at the end

A/N: sorry if you came here for a good time, but this is not it! based on these Sad Sunday and Fluff Monday blurbs! I’d recommend reading them first since they’re referenced in this, but not entirely necessary. anyway, excited to hear your thoughts! also I meant to post a request today and save this for next week but I started writing this during work and couldn’t stop. so I’ll work on getting requests out next week since I’ve got Sad Sunday tomorrow!

marvel requests?

-

Wanda Maximoff misses you.

When the news broke that you’d died from your injuries before she could get to you, her body collapsed on the spot. Her mind instantly recalled the memory of the last time she’d seen you truly happy.

For a week straight, your hands were covered in clay. Due to your lack of a childhood, you’d never gotten to experience normal things like attempting pottery in an art class. When you finally discovered it, the team never heard the end of it. You’d annoyed Tony into buying a kiln after coming home with enough clay to build a small village and got to work.

You worked a while on making tiles and carving winter trees and flowers into them, eventually moving onto dishes. You’d perfected plates and bowls but couldn’t figure out mugs, which only made you work harder to the point where Wanda had to drag you to the kitchen and bed each day.

On that seventh day you’d run into Wanda’s room, tackling her into a pile of laundry she was sorting because you were just that excited. You’d finally made a mug worth putting into the kiln, and a celebratory kiss was in order. She’d helped you pick out colors to paint it with, sporting a proud smile and eyes full of adoration.

She pressed repeat on your ecstatic screams echoing in her thoughts, hoping to drown out the cries of pain she’d heard over the phone. You’d been taken by an enemy from her very last mission, someone who had no knowledge that when Wanda disappeared months prior, she left you behind. They could only assume that you would be the easiest way to find her, not aware that you were just as in the dark on her whereabouts.

She’d listened with tears streaming down her cheeks as your captor made you beg, packing her belongings frantically while each whimper of her name turned her stomach a bit more. The regret of leaving her Lovely behind was immense, and she wanted nothing more in the moment than burning her enemy alive and bringing you into her arms forever.

There was a mixture of emotions in everyone when Wanda finally reached the compound, much slower upon receiving knowledge that your body rested there. Broken spirits lay behind defeated and tearful eyes, but looking into Steve’s nearly sent her crumbling to the floor again. 

They were cold and dark, as they earned the right to be. The eyes of a man who comforted his best friend for weeks, day and night, when the love of her life deserted her in her sleep. He was no stranger to your heavy sobs in the shower, overheard when he put sweaters in the dryer and left them in the bathroom because you shivered constantly. Your lifeless eyes at the dinner table when he forced you to leave your room. Sitting with you in the medical wing after breaking your wrists on the punching bag.

As far as Steve Rogers was concerned, Wanda deserved every bit of pain she felt.

This thought mixed in with the flashes of his memories of your suffering is what sent her to the floor, gasping for air with a wet face. Through Natasha and Tony’s legs as they approached her she caught him walking away, and it only made it harder to breathe. 

Your funeral came days later, and Wanda spent the entirety of the time in your room. The scent of your favorite lotion on her hands pulled her into a nightmare filled sleep, and she found comfort in it knowing that her reality upon waking up was far more painful. After taking a shower and checking with FRIDAY on Steve’s location in the building, she found herself staring at an empty space in one of the kitchen cupboards.

“Wanda, what’s going on?”

She turned at the sound of Pepper’s voice, heart clenching painfully at the sight of her formal dress. “Where’s her mug?”

“She smashed it.”

“What?” She wanted to ask why, but stopped herself in fear of the answer.

“She used it for the first time a month after you left. When she went to wash it, she saw where you’d painted on the bottom ‘Lovely’s Mug, Do Not Use’ and threw it against the  nearest wall.”

Wanda pushed past Pepper and sprinted to the closest bathroom, not even caring if anyone walked past and heard the violent act of everything she’d held back spilling out. Gentle hands came a few minutes later, one rubbing her back and the other wrapping any loose hairs around her poorly formed bun. When she’d finished, the toilet was flushed for her and a half empty bottle of water was shoved into her shaky grip.

“Rinse.”

She blinked in surprise at the stern tone, turning her teary gaze to meet eyes much softer than days prior. She stood on shaky legs after following his instruction and using the water, her confusion only growing as he helped her lean against the sink for support.

“I thought you hated me,” she voiced her concern into the quiet room, and Steve sighed.

“I want to, trust me.” He took the bottle from her and used his free hand to scratch at his beard nervously. “I loved--love her like family and when you left, it felt like she left too. Just when I thought I was getting her back, she was taken from me for good. As much as I want to hate you, I can’t. Especially knowing that until her last breath, she loved you.”

He stepped forward again, pulling Wanda into a warm embrace as tears rolled down both of their cheeks. The air grew still, heavy with emotion and silence punctuated with their sniffles.

“I hate that I ruined something she was so proud of making. Everything I touched of hers, I destroyed. Her mug, her heart. I wish I’d never left, and sometimes I wish I never met her. She would’ve done much better without me.”

Her next sniffle was cut short when Steve pulled away just enough to make eye contact.

“You may have made a small part of her life hard, but you spent much more time making her happy. Because of you, she stopped being so afraid of nighttime storms, instead associating it with time to spend close to you. She tried new things and worked harder on missions to help create a safe future for the two of you to exist in. And if anything, she’s inspired me to do the same, for you and all of us.”

Wanda remained silent as she mulled over his words, continuing to do so as she got dressed for the worst event of her life, only tied with Pietro’s funeral. She sat in the front row between Steve and Natasha, a numbness taking over as she listened to everyone speak so highly of you. Her arms held tightly to Tony in comfort as he cried in the middle of his speech, allowing Pepper to take over as she took his place in front of everyone.

“This is--for the second time--the worst thing I’ve ever had to do, but I’m not here to talk about me. I want to talk about my best girl, the one I only ever referred to as Lovely, from the moment I met her. In fact, I’d like to talk directly to her, if you don’t mind.”

She turned her gaze directly above the crowd toward the sky, smiling a bit when a bird crossed her line of vision.

“Lovely, I’m so sorry I left you behind. I thought I was protecting you from the monster I believed myself to be, but instead I just made everything worse. I should have stayed. We never got to finish that show we were binge-watching, and I don’t think that I ever will. Not without you.”

She paused for a moment to breathe, also taking the time to clear space on her cheeks for the next round of tears.

“I should have stayed to be around for the next thing you got into after pottery. You deserve to be that excited about something again. I loved the way you’d say my whole name with that shiny look in your eye that just made me love you so much more, and I remember you telling me that if you weren’t so afraid of annoying me, you’d call me by my full name all the time.”

Her eyes blinked as tears clouded her vision once more, allowing them to fall as she turned to your picture beside your covered body.

“I want to say thank you for being an amazing friend and even better girlfriend, Lovely. I didn’t deserve to have you, but I’m glad I was gifted with being a part of your life anyway. I hope that wherever you are, you’re as happy as you made me, and I want you to know something that will forever be true.”

She cleared her throat as her emotions began to choke her there, hands coming to wrap around the pendant of a necklace you gave her as her final words came out in a whisper.

“Wanda Maximoff misses you.”

-

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @creepingwolfberry @marie-03

[james-rowan]

Here’s my (very late, sorry 😓) contribution to the @dualrainbow Pride event. Thank you To_Dragons for helping me edit.

Ships: Montagne/Blitz, Lion/Doc, Valkyrie/Finka and Castle/Maverick

The Pride Festival

The Austin Texas Pride Festival was held on a hot, sunny afternoon, and it smelled of fair food, sunscreen and energy. It was colorful, and bright, mrainbows everywhere, adorning stalls, signs and, of course, people.

To the European operators who had been to Pride events before, it was not only loud, but bold. From the outfits, that ranged from simple rainbow wristbands to full on outrageous outfits (or just a jockstrap), to the signs and stalls and performance stages. Couples were embracing, kissing and making out openly and passionately, without shame or guilt, not only couples but the rare poly groups, finally able to carry on with open affections and taking full advantage. The atmosphere was infectious. It had already claimed Maverick and Castle, who walked very close to each other -despite the heat- hands in each other’s back pockets. They also were very unrestrained with the kissing.

And Montagne thought that he and Blitz could be overly affectionate. But then he was still waiting for his lover to meet them there. He had flown out on his own specifically for this.

Their group included the aforementioned Castle and Maverick, Valkyrie, Finka, himself, Lion and Doc.

They had traveled from Fort Polk, Louisiana, where they, that being the FBI SWAT, SEALs and GIGN, and one tagalong (at her vehement request) Finka, were doing training with the U.S. Army rangers stationed there. After two weeks of a field exercise in muggy swamplands, their Pride group had been excited to go somewhere dry, but unfortunately Houston did not live up to the Texas desert stereotypes; it was almost as humid as Fort Polk. But at least here there was civilization. And Montagne himself was excited to finally see Blitz.

“Schatz!”

Speaking of whom, he was charging at them, looking very much the part of a Pride attendee. He caught his lover in his arms, swinging him around once, despite the soreness from training, then dipped him into a deep kiss. that gained the awe and cheers of not only from some in their own group, but several onlooking strangers as well.

When they finally parted , Lion muttered, “They’re acting like they haven’t seen each other in a year.”

The couple ignored him as Blitz held Monty out in arms length to appraise his outfit. He tutted, “Not to live up to the stereotype, Schatz, but what are you wearing?”

Montagne looked down at himself. He was wearing a lightweight button down with rolled up sleeves, dark trousers and shined shoes, nothing offensive, if a bit formal compared to everyone else, but the reason was important.

Blitz himself was dressed the complete opposite, wearing a loose stringer tanktop that exposed his toned shoulders and even his pecs when he moved just right. Jean cutoff shorts, sneakers with colorful laces, large sunglasses, a backwards ball cap, wristbands: every article of clothing was either rainbow colored, or had an inclusive pride flag adorning it.

“Euh… what’s wrong with it?

“If it were any other day, nothing,” Blitz said. “You look sharp and sexy as ever. But this is Pride, American Pride, ja? Look around.”

Almost everyone was wearing Pride merchandise, had flags draped on their shoulders, or had face paint of various LGBTQ+ symbols, from obvious t more subtle. The bolder were the ones wearing much more and the even bolder much less.

Blitz grabbed his hand, “Come, we’re fixing this.”

“Aren’t we a little old for…”

“Psst, nein. This will be fun, ja? To dress up as we please, get swept up in the atmosphere.”

“We can already dress as we please.”

“I mean colorful, and silly, no fashion rules to hold us back. Come on!”

With that Blitz dragged him off, leaving the rest in their wake.

~

“Well,” Finka chuckled. “Hi to you too, Elias.”

“Those two are disgusting,” Lion snickered. “How long have they been together? A year?”

“Two,” Finka said. “With no signs of slowing down.”

“Their honeymoon phase is going to last forever at this rate,” Valkyrie said.

“That explains why Gilles is going to…” Lion stopped himself, eyes wide.

“What is Gilles going to do?” Valkyrie was now very interested.

“Olivier, you wanted to show me something?” Doc, the amazing man he was, quickly interjected.

Had it been a few months ago, Lion would have been confused, but now Doc had bailed him out enough times during conversations that he immediately went, “Ah right, this way.”

“We’ll go with you,” Valkyrie smirked.

“Non, non, it's private,” Lion said.

“The good Catholic boy he is, he cannot share,” he said, steering Lion away before he could reveal too much.

Out of earshot, Lion mumbled, “How can you be nice while mocking me at the same time?” Lion was a bit prickly at the Catholic comment. It has always been a point of mockery for people outside the church.

“I could ask you the same. You have quite the talent for it. Far more than I can hope to achieve.”

“Most of the time I don’t mean to.”

“I know.” Doc’s tone softened into a reassuring one, giving his side a squeeze. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have found common ground, mon coeur,” he said. “People also tend not to question when a Catholic needs to do private things, no? With Islam it works quite well.”

Lion took a deep breath, but understood. It was nothing malicious. “Thank you. I didn’t want to be the one to fuck that all up.”

It had taken years to come to a mutual understanding, let alone to find a way to deal with their mutual attraction to one another. It was a rocky, long road, but here they were. Lion hoped one day they would be exactly like Blitz and Montagne, or even just Castle and Maverick.

Lion brushed his forefinger against Doc’s hand, tentatively seeking to hold it. Their relationship was so new, so fragile, like a baby bird or sugar glass, too easy to hurt or shatter. A hundred things, even things gentle or nice, could ruin a relationship, if you looked into it. And considering their history, before they got together… where just one off hand remark would destroy a truce they had established between each other, setting them at each other's throats once again. Lion never wanted to go back to those times. He’d do anything to keep it from degrading back.

Doc immediately took hold of his hand, as if he had been waiting to do so all day, giving a loving squeeze.

Warmth flooded Lion, he felt a giant stupid grin spreading across his face. It was almost too much, as he felt pricks in his eyes, as he squeezed back. He glanced sideways at Doc, finding him gently smiling, mellow as always when he was content. He wanted nothing more than to sweep him up and kiss him fiercely, but maybe then it’d be too much. He’d settle for this for now.

After browsing a couple stalls, he remembered something. What did the relationship advice he found on that one website say? That he should always seek to compliment and let someone know how much their actions mean to him, so he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the right words.

“You know,” Lion said, barely able to be heard over the crowd. “I’m so glad you’re willing to hold my hand.”

“Willing? I want to,” Doc corrected, bringing it to his lips and kissing his knuckles.

Lion smile only grew wider, and he had to look away as red creeped from his ears to his cheeks now. “J’taime.”

“J’taime.”

The warm fuzzy feeling in his chest threatened to burst, helped along by with the anxiety, the pervasive fear that this was about to be ripped from him at any moment.

They grabbed something to eat and sat down on a bench. If American food was considered greasy, their fair food was simply lard on a plate, with maybe some sugar or ketchup for seasoning. They commented on this to each other, when something caught Lion’s eye. There were older women and a couple of men wearing t-shirts, that said “free mom hugs.” (the men’s shirts said ‘dad’) As implied, they hugged everyone who came up to them. Some hugs were light and quick, and some deep and heartfelt, lasting many minutes. Lion’s eyes followed one of them until he came upon a group of them, holding signs, the same message written on them.

“Is that what I think?”

“Hmm?” Doc looked up. “Ah, probably. Hold on.”

To Lion's horror, his fellow frenchman asked a nearby American who they were; the man explaining with a bright smile that they were a charity organization that helped LGBTQ+ youth, and they gave out hugs - of course -, for any who had been rejected by their families for their sexuality.

Small talk ensued, in which Lion was only half-participating in as he ate, and when the man finally left, Doc nudged his side.

“You’ve been glancing at them this whole time. Go on, go talk to them.”

“I don’t need a hug.”

Doc tsked, “That’s a lie.”

“Huh?”

“If anyone needs a hug from a father figure, it is you, no?”

“I…” Lion paused then shook his head. “No, I’m over it, I put it behind me. It happened over a decade ago, after all.”

Doc raised an eyebrow, one of his infuriatingly knowing smiles tugging at his lips.

“They are for this who were disowned for being homosexual, Gustave. I was not...”

“And your father would have accepted you being with another man? Or is it only teens getting their girlfriends pregnant that he takes moral issue with?”

Lion didn’t have an answer for him. Well he did, just not a verbal one. There were so many reasons his father wanted nothing to do with him.

“I’m over it,” he repeated, but this time with less conviction.

“Then it would be of no consequence,” Doc said, squeezing his hand. “Go on.”

It was an awkward walk to approach them. He had to remind himself he was a soldier, he had faced death multiple times, fought against some of the most dangerous people in the world and this- This was just a civilian man at a pride event. Much older than him, sure, with a kind face and beard. But he realized as his step grew increasing hesitant that it wasn’t the human he was afraid of, but his soul, and what it could do to his own with just a few brash words.

What was he even going to say? “Hey I saw your sign, my dad hates me, can I get a hug?” That was ridiculous. Maybe lean into the role this man was offering to play, “Sorry dad, I was a fuck up, I can't change?" Or… "sorry you were not capable of loving me the way I am?" Both sounded completely rude to say to a stranger.

But as he approached, the older man met his eye, and there was no need for questions, nor words. The dad only smiled at him and opened his arms.

Lion found himself in the other man’s embrace before he even realized, hugging him as if his life depended on it. The older man matched his energy, a hand on the back of his head as if Lion really was his own child. Time seemed to stretch on and on; Lion had been anticipating a quick hug, just a little taste of what he got so envious of every time he saw someone have a loving moment with their parent, but no, his body refused to let go and so did this stranger. This stranger who held onto him with a fatherly patience Lion once thought only existed in fantasy.

The lump growing in his throat ached. He tried swallowing it down, but it only made it worse.

He shouldn’t have done this. He thought he was over it, yet it hurt, it hurt so fucking much…!

He wanted to run, he wanted to stay, he wanted…

“It’s alright to cry,” the man whispered. “I got you.”

“My real father disowned me.” Lion wasn’t proud of how strangled his voice sounded, or how he let some tears escape.

“I’m so sorry, son,” the man replied, rubbing his back gently. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t. Nobody does.”

“I never could give him a reason to love me.”

“Children don’t need to give a reason. They’re supposed to be loved by their parents, no matter what mistakes they made, real or imagined. You deserve to be loved.”

Lion was biting the inside of his cheek, trying to will away the need to sob. This was a happy moment, a validating moment, with kind words, and warmth, why did it hurt so much then? His fingers clutched at the man’s shirt, as he gently rocked them. It didn’t feel infantilizing, it felt relieving, needed, like a hole finally being filled.

“You can cry, you know,” the man whispered again. “Emotions are made to be expressed. You don’t have to be strong, not here, not with me. I know you’re hurting, Don’t worry, I’m here.”

A choked sob escaped, and Lion pressed his face into the man's shoulder. “There you go, let it out, I’m proud of you.”

There was no coming back from that. He broke down, and it was ugly.

Lion sobbed into his arms, all rsesemblance of control disappearing, but the father held him through it all. It lasted way longer than Lion thought possible, but they eventually subsided, and he was still being held as he calmed down. When he felt strong enough to break the embrace, he was met with a gentle, fatherly smile.

“Do you feel better?”

“Oui.. yes, thank you,” he wiped his face with his own shirt. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” the manhe said. “I’m just doing what fathers were meant to do.”

“Merci.”

They talked for a little while after. About what happened with his father, his family, himself. The cynical side of him expected them to reveal their ulterior motive, asking him for charity donations, to attend a church service, or even a cult, but they didn’t offer him any flyers or business cards, just warm words... water and tissues. At least he wasn’t the first grown man to cry like this in their arms. They were genuinely good people.

Doc had been waiting patiently for him on the bench, and stood up to embrace him and kiss his cheek upon his return. “How do you feel?”

“Drained,” he said. Then he added, “Relieved. I guess you were…” he caught himself. “No, you were completely right.”

“I’m glad you went then, mon coeur.”

Lion needed a smoke. Before got to know him, Lion would have assumed the doctor was too high and mighty for a nicotine fix, but then found out he was a man in a high stress job like the rest of them, and didn’t judge. Except on the mandatory substance abuse powerpoints they all had to sit through every few months.

He lit up, drawing the smoke in and letting it mellow him out. Every so often he would think back and a few more tears would leak out.

He wiped his eyes with his thumb. “You know why I was so happy that you took my hand?”

“Non,” Doc said, rubbing his back. “But please tell me.”

“I was at the store with my mother and father,” he said. “I was just following along, and I see my mother offer her hand to hold, you know, this gesture…”

He made it. Doc patiently nodded.

“Well I was nearest to her, I think. I was so happy, I remember feeling loved, all warm, because my mama wanted to hold my hand.”

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

Lion took a deep breath. His voice shuddered, “She let go, non.. she threw my hand away from her, in utter disgust. As if I were disgusting. She snapped, ‘I don’t want your hand.’”

Lion ducked his head. “It was a small thing, yes, but it hurt, it hurt so much. Turned out she wanted my father’s hand, not her son’s, not mine.”

It was a few beats later before Doc said, “How old were you?”

“Four, maybe five,” Lion said. “I hate that feeling, those moments where you finally feel happy and loved, and the next second someone shatters it completely. Despair is a good word for it, I think.”

“How often did these types of things happen?”

“Plenty, I was a disgusting child, after all.”

“No,” Doc said. “She was just… cruel.”

Lion huffed, not a wry laugh, just disbelieving. “You’re not going to tell me that she tried her best?”

“Did she?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Then I think not,” Doc said softly, cupping Lion’s cheek. He leaned into the warmth.

"I still get this horrible… fear when I want to take someone’s hand, or show any affection. So I usually don’t.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, mon cher. And if I ever make you feel the way your mother did, I want you to tell me.”

Lion nodded, looking down, not entirely sure if he would. Doc tilted his head back up. “Hey, I mean it.”

Lion took his hand and almost went for a kiss, but the deep moment was interrupted by Blitz and Monty approaching. Lion quickly turned away so neither of the two could see his red puffy eyes, but he did see Monty was wearing a stringer tanktop, tie dyed rainbow, and adorned with rainbows in body paint and a look of subdued embarrassment any time Elias had his back turned. Blitz was going a bit overboard on this look.

“Have you seen Meghan?” Blitz said, “unless you have a bag?”

Doc pointed them into the right direction, as Lion quickly drank his water.

“Olivier, are you okay?”

“He just needs some alone time with me,” Doc saved him. Again.

The pair offered their sympathies to Lion (much to his annoyance) and wandered off to find the two women.

“Don’t you ever dress me up that garishly,” Lion snickered.

“Please, mon coeur, I have taste,” Doc said, before grabbing his knee and squeezing, voice now whispering in his ear. “Besides, I prefer you out of your clothes.”

He nipped his earlobe before Lion could exasperate out his name, earning a yelp instead.

Any semblance of protocol melted into genuine, unmasked joy just to be in each other’s company, in a welcoming space where they could be open about themselves Gustave himself was intent on kissing his lover better.

~

Finka and Valkyrie had been watching a stage performance when Blitz appeared at Valkyrie’s side, grinning, as usual, and... now covered in glitter?

“Meghan, can we borrow your purse?”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to have to carry around Gilles’s shirt all day.”

Valkyrie turned fully to see Montagne, who had trailed in after him, no longer wearing his tasteful, understated ensemble, but had been attacked by rainbows and what looked to be the same shimmer bomb that Blitz must have been caught in.

“No, you’re going to get glitter in it,” Valkyrie frowned.

“Please? I’ll clean it out for you myself.”

“Glitter?” Finka said, turning around. “We have to ride back with your boyfriend, and you wore glitt-”

Finka must have caught sight of Montagne’s giant pecs escaping the too small, flimsy shirt, because she turned bright red and turned back to stare very intently at the performer.

All Valkyrie herself could think was ’damn Montagne is strong and it shows’, but that was it, of course. Her girlfriend however was bi, with a particular weakness for large people with muscles.

“Och, I almost forgot,” Blitz said cheekily. “You have any sunscreen? Gilles wasn’t prepared for this outfit.”

“I don’t think any of us were prepared,” Finka snipped, still keeping Montagne out of her line of sight. She pulled out a sunblock bottle from her cargo pocket and tossed it over.

“You alright there, Lera?” Blitz asked as he caught it.

“I’m fine, it's just hot,” she replied, still avoiding eye contact, “The weather, I mean.”

Blitz grinned, “He is hot, isn’t he?”

“Mon cher…” Montagne groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just…”

Meghan clapped her hands, “Okay, go away, go be gay somewhere else. We have enough that of our own over here.”

Blitz ignored her, looking at Finka with a grin, “What do you think of us getting temporary hair color? I was thinking of dyeing our hair rainbow.”

“Well, you’ve gone this far,” Finka said, pointedly staring at Blitz’s eyes. “Might as well go full golubok.”

“Hah, ja, I like the way you think, I…”

“Here,” Meghan said, grabbing Gilles’s shirt from Blitz’s hands and stuffing it into her purse. “Go dye your hair now. Go on.”

“Alright, all right.” Blitz grinned, holding up his hands and going. Montagne sighed deeply, a twitch working its way through his cheek before following. Odd, but not her problem. She had someone much more important to worry about.

“You’re into muscles, huh?”

“You know I am,” Finka said sheepishly. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Valkyrie laughed, “It’s fine, he got great boobs.” That caused Finka to snort. “You know, for a man.”

Finka laughed longer than she expected, but it was always nice when her girlfriend had one of her genuine laughs.

“It's always nice to see real muscles,” Finka said. “Real ones, from being big and strong, and healthy.”

“Oh, you mean some like mine?” She flexed, tattooed arms positively sexy as the bulged.

Finka’s eyes got a hungry glunt to them, she put her hands on Valkyrie’s arms, feeling the solidness beneath her fingers, “Yes, just like that.”

Finka kissed her girlfriend long and deep, and Valkyrie relished being able to do so in the open, without the anxiety of having some bigot laying eyes on them and causing a scene. It was annoying enough to deal with the old people (and the occasional man similarly aged man) she had never met before tsk at her for daring to have tattoos and being too buff, saying she was too pretty to mark herself up like that and ask how she was ever going to find a man looking like that. She had already broke the glass ceiling for women in something as prestigious and hardcore as the Navy fucking SEALs, but there were still so many in American society that were convinced that women existed to look pleasant to men, regardless of if said women even wanted a pet man or not.

The kiss was broken when Finka’s wristwatch timer went off, and her girlfriend quickly drank from her water bottle. It was such a practiced motion, Valkyrie wasn’t entirely convinced Lera was aware she was doing it, and it made her heart ache. When she was finished, she wrapped her arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Later they were browsing stalls, and Finka gravitated towards one that was selling pride flags and shirts, not only the standard colors for each identity group, but also the ones that represented multiple identities within the same flag. Finka fingered a nonbinary one with a heart in the bisexual colors on its center. Interesting choice.

“I’d love to see you wear one of these, babe.”

Finka smiled, but shook her head, “I don’t know…”

“Come on, I’m not trying to pull a Blitz on you, I’ll wear one with you.”

“And what am I going to do with it afterwards?”

“Keep it? We’re not in Russia, our base is in Greece, basically its own sovereign territory.”

“When you went through SEALs, there were dissenters that tried to prove your were lesbian so they could get you removed from the program, didn’t they?”

Valkyrie shrugged, “Yeah, but they failed.”

“The last thing that the Russian government wants is one of it most elite spetsnaz operatives in an international effort to be homosexual,” Finka explained. “Its not illegal, yet, but my existence could be considered ‘propaganda.’ I might not just be removed from Rainbow, or Spetsnaz, or the Russian military, I could be jailed.

“Ah.”

“You know what Russian prison is like? I might be able to survive the system if I wasn’t sick, but I am diseased. They’d deny me my medication, not let me stay hydrated or fed or exercised and I’ll...”

“Hey, hey,” Meghan said, quickly drawing Lera into a hug. “I’m sorry, it was just a silly idea.”

“I’m…” she took a deep breath then nodded. “Thank you.”

Meghan kissed her forehead, holding her hands. Lera usually had to be stressed, well, more stressed than usual, to go on such a downward spiral so quickly. Being at such a Pride event, probably, if anyone found out. Finka didn’t believe her own Rainbow Spetsnaz brothers to out her, they were too close, but it was still risky.

“The Soviet Union used to accept openly gay people, did you know that?”

Valkyrie shook her head.

“Not a lot of people do, even in Russia. It was the early years, of course, but they gave gays rights they never had before. But then, of course, the Soviets needed more bodies. Bodies for war, and bodies for work, and of course, they believed gays were the reason that their population wasn’t pumping out babies at a fast enough rate.”

“Oh.”

“It all comes down to child production, doesn’t it? You know this.”

“Unfortunately I do,” Valkyrie said. “Not even just governments but families too. When my grandma found out I was lesbian, she sobbed, crying about how she won’t have any grandbabies from my father’s line. Then she blamed my father for raising me too military, while blaming my mother for letting me compete in high level sports.” She adopted a shrill, tottering grandma voice, ‘Sports always turns girls into dykes. I wanted greatgrandbabies from every child! But you made her want to turn into a boy!”

“Blin.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“My own parents alway knew I would like girls,” she said. “Enough to be surprised and confused when I brought home boyfriends that I was genuinely happy with. They cited my, uh, how you call it, boyishness? Well, I never felt comfortable in the woman’s role and they, knowing what my siblings and I had…, they didn’t really feel a need to pressure us to do anything but stay as healthy and active as possible.”

Meghan slowly began to realize this was turning into much more than a simple sharing of stories, and squeezed her hands in support.

“I never liked being…. I don’t know how to put this. I didn’t like the gendered language used for me. And I never felt when people were talking about women, they were talking about to me as well. Just as I thought the rules and expectations boys are taught growing up applied to me as well. You know, don’t cry, be tough, treat women with respect, fight those who try to push you around. Then I learned of this new concept a couple years ago, someone could be neither. I laughed at it at first but...”

“Lera…” Valkyrie said softly, with a loving smile. “Do you want me to use they/them for you?”

Her… their eyes lit up. “Would you? I mean, I’m not sure just yet, but I would like to try them out. “Non pun intended?”

“Hmm? Oh yes,” they were positively beaming. They were so beautiful.

“Just to see. I mean, I still have to use she and her at work but, just in private.”

“Of course, babe.”

Valkyrie cupped their face and kissed them deeply.

She ended up buying Finka something, a silver bracelet in the colored stones in the nonbinary colors as the setting. Something simple and discreet yet powerful where it mattered.

~~

Montagne had texted the couples to be on their way back to the group when Blitz finally realized he wasn’t just looking like a rainbow, but rather a discontented victim of a rainbow being sick.

“What’s wrong, Schatz?”

The giant man sighed, folding his arms over his chest.

“So… there is something wrong…?”

“If it were any other day, I wouldn’t have minded, but today…”

“Where else could you do this…?”

“It is not the location, it is the look!” he gestured down at himself. “The timing of it!”

“I don’t understand… ok, ja, I can see why I might have gotten a little carried away.”

Montagne raised a glitter encrusted eyebrow.

“Ok, completely carried away.”

“Mmm.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It is not the fun you were having that I have a problem with, I am used to your antics.”

Blitz went pink, and bashful. Like a puppy being scolded.

“And you know I love your antics, ge added quickly. But why of all days,” Gilles trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose, and very nearly getting glitter in his eyes.

“Because… its Pride…”

“Yes, you’ve been saying this the whole time.”

“We can go wash it all off, I’m sorry,” Elias said, crestfallen as he moved past him towards the bathrooms.

Montagne caught him around the chest with his arm just as the rest of the group returned, “Non, it's fine… its fine. Perfection is not needed.”

He saw Doc and Loon quickly fumble for their phones, thankfully behind Blitz’s back. Once they nodded, he guided Blitz back to in front of him. “These past few years I’ve known you, you’ve done nothing but make me happy. Your antics, your jokes, your dedication, your downright sweetness, even the way you tap your helmet during exercises. Even before we started seeing each other, your smile would light up my heart and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Gilles…”

Gilles sank to one knee, pulling out a shining wedding ring from his pocket.

“Will you marry me?”

Elias had clapped his hands over his mouth, unable to process this. Their group, except for the GIGN of course, were surprised and estatic. Valkyrie even exclaimed “So that’s what you French bastards were hiding.”

Blitz still hadn’t answered, his eyes shining.

“Elias?”

“Ja! Natürlich sage ich ja, du großer Dummkopf!”

“I assume that's a…”

Blitz very nearly bowled him over to give him his acceptance kiss. He lifted him up as he stood, Elias straddling his hips and swung them around, a dazzling display as the glitter caught the sunshine.

“I’m sorry I got irritated, I just wanted this to go a certain way,” he breathed when their lips parted.

“Schatz, you could have proposed to me covered in mud and sweat.”

“I know,” he said. “But I still wanted to make an effort. I wanted to do it right.”

“You did,” he said. “Look at you, covered in rainbows, just to make me happy, ja?

“Mmm,” he said as Elias lowered himself back to the ground.

Blitz understood now. Gilles was a traditional romantic after all, wanting the candlelit dinners and picnics at the parks on Sundays. He wanted that to extend to his proposal but Blitz was too excited to have silly fun to notice.

“Hey,” he said. Despite the heat they couldn’t stop embracing. “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too.”

“If you want,” he whispered. “We can still have your perfect proposal night.”

“Two proposals?”

“Ja, why not? I’ll still be excited.”

Gilles gave it a thought. “I’ll have to make things more romantic between us,” he murmured. “Just to throw you off so you don’t know when its coming.”

“Oooh,” Blitz said, draping his arms over Gilles’s shoulders. “I like the sound of that.”

They dazzled them with another sweeping, showstopping dipped kiss, because of course they did.

“I agree with Lion,” Finka laughed with a grin. “You two are disgusting.”

Blitz laughed into Gilles’s mouth, and flipped her off without looking away.

“Great, now those two set the standard for romantic proposals,” Maverick said.

“Does that mean we’re going to be competing now?” Castle said, perking up.

“I’ll win,” Valkyrie declared. “The rest of you might as well quit now..”

“Pfft, nah, man, if anyone’s winning that it's me.”

“You know, we French have romance in our blood,” Lion said. “I wouldn’t even have to try and I’d win.”

While they dissolved into bickering, the silent ones of their pairs all shared a look, realizing at once what their partners had implied.

Blitz and Monty still had yet to look up from their glitter makeout, oblivious to what they had just started.

[barney-james]

Reunion Drama || Chris Evans Imagine

{anon} Can I request Chris finding out you and you’re male best friend used to be friends with benefits

A/n i’m not sure how it got where it did my mind just kind of ran, but i love this, also it’s long and probably should’ve been broken into parts, but i’m one of those people who most of the time won’t read something on here in multiple parts (i don’t know why lmao). It also saves the waiting for the next part and easier to put in the masterlist i’m going to make.

Warnings angsty and sad, fluff and nudity at the end but no smut

*gif not mine*

The shower turns off in the bathroom, and through the open door, you can hear your boyfriend get out and sigh. You lean in the door way and look at him, his back facing you as he wraps a clean white towel around his hips. He looks up in the mirror, seeing you staring at him from behind. 

“Like what you see?” he smirks, folding the towel in so it won’t fall.

You snort, rolling your eyes at his usual cockiness. “You know,” you begin, walking across the tile towards him, your hand brushing water out of the hair at the base of his neck. “I’d tease you about taking longer than me to get ready, but you waited until the absolute last second to get in the shower.” You run your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp.

“I didn’t take that long,” he chuckles. “It’s fine.”

“I have been sitting out there, getting wrinkles in my dress and scrolling through channels on the TV for 45 minutes,” you explain. “You decided it best to start getting ready when I’m completely done. Why’d you take 45 minutes anyway?”

“Had to carefully trim the beard, babe,” he retorts, turning his head and kissing you cheek. He steps away from you and grabs his deodorant off of the counter. “Besides, we’ll still get there in time.”

“It started 20 minutes ago, Chris,” you laugh, poking his sides and making him jolt.

“Fashionably late is on time these days. Why are you in such a rush? You hate everyone that’s going to be there.”

“Ethan’s been there waiting.” Your best friend since childhood, Ethan, was also attending the event this evening, seeing as how it’s a 20 year high school reunion. He’d gotten to know Chris pretty well, and they got along well when he’d come visit you in Boston. 

“Will you use my phone to get an Uber?” your fiance asks, looking at you over his shoulder. “It’s on the dresser. I just need to get dresses. Give me like 5 minutes.” He turns and kisses your head, following you out of the bathroom. 

You grab his phone off the dresser and stand by the window, looking at the final moments of the sunset as you wait for the Uber app to load. 

“10 minutes,” you tell him, turning around to see him already buttoning up his shirt. “How do you get dressed so fast?”

“I wear formal clothes a lot more than the average person, honey,” he says as you walk over to him. He grabs a tie from the dresser and wraps it around his neck, waiting for you to tie it for him like you usually do.

“It’s not that special,” you laugh. “You don’t need a tie.” You slide the silk material through your fingers.

“But look at you,” he gestures to you. “You look all dressed up and pretty.” His hands fall to your waist and you smile, pulling him closer to you by the tie still draped over his shoulders. You connect your lips to his in a hot passionate kiss. He pulls your hips closer to him, trying to wrap his arms around you, but you pull away.

You slide the tie out of his collar and put it back on the dresser. When you look back at him, your lipstick had smeared over his lips messily. You wipe your thumb across his lips, biting your lip.

“You can’t do that if you’re really going to make me go out in 5 minutes,” he says sternly, looking into your eyes. 

You step back from him and back into the bathroom to fix your lipstick.

“Uber’s here, babe,” Chris calls into the bathroom.

You meet him by the door and unlock it, open it and wait for him. He grabs the door and meets you in the hall, walking with you arm in arm to the elevator. You sit in comfortable silence while waiting to reach the lobby. You look over at him lovingly, smiling, and see that his shirt is still buttoned up all the way as he thought he’d wear a tie. You turn to him, pulling his arm so he faces you, too, and you undo the top few buttons on the shirt, revealing the perfect about of skin. 

The elevator door opens and you’re still toying with his shirt. He clears his throat and you look up at him, scrunch your nose cutely and walk out of the elevator with his hand in yours. As you walk out of the hotel lobby and to the Uber, Chris steps ahead of you and opens the door for you. You thank him as you duck your head and get into the car. A short moment after closing your door, he opens the door on the other side of the car and gets in himself.

“Smells like rain,” he comments, grabbing your hand.

“That’s typical.”

You engage in casual conversation with your driver, mostly Chris as you sit nervously smoothing your hands over your satin dress. Chris notices and simply squeezes your thigh, knowing you’re nervous to see all your old class mates again.

When you reach the venue, you thank the driver, and get out before Chris could reach your side of the car to help you. He looks at you disapprovingly and you just nudge his shoulder and grab his hand. You pull your phone out of your clutch and text Ethan to let him know you’ve arrived.

“Ah shit,” you hear Chris say beside you. You look over at him confused and see him tucking his shirt into his pants. “You noticed the buttons but not that it was untucked?”

“Cuffs, too,” you point out, and he buttons his cuffs while you walk with your arm in his into the old school gym. The music is loud, and of course it’s mostly 90s and early 2000s.

“I have to piss,” you hear Chris say.

“Oh my god, Chris,” you laugh. “We just got here.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies adjusting his pants. You point him towards the bathroom, he kisses your cheek quickly and walks off. 

You begin to make your way over to the bar they’ve set up, and Ethan catches up with you.

“Y/n!” the familiar voice calls. You turn to see him rushing towards you, and you pull him into a hug. “Where’s Chris?” he asks when he pulls away from your friendly embrace. 

“Bathroom,” you roll your eyes.

“Of course,” he laughs. “Let’s get you a drink.”

Ethan walks with you to the bar, catching up with you since it had been a couple months since you had last seen each other. Of course there wasn’t much new to talk about since you’d text and call him every time something exciting or annoying happens.

When you reach the bar, you notice name tags sitting at the far end. ‘oh geez,’ you think to yourself and go to find yours.

“I already grabbed it for you,” Ethan says, fishing it out of his pocket. “Don’t want anyone seeing your school photo from senior year.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you laugh and take the tag from your friend, noticing that he had crossed out ‘Ms Y/n Y/l/n’ and put ‘soon Mrs Y/n Evans’. You laugh at your best friend and his silliness.

“Oo, I haven’t seen it yet,” Ethan says and grabs your left hand, holding it up to his face to inspect your engagement ring. “So much prettier than the pictures, hon.”

“Thanks,” you blush.

“That man sure does have a wallet,” he pesters you. 

You look at him with the ‘stop it’ face, and he puts his hands up, defeated. You both hear his name get called, and he turns to see his girlfriend waving him over. You wave at her politely and she smiles back at you. 

Ethan looks at you. “Get him to send me a link,” he says, pointing to your ring with a wink as he walks back to his date.

You straighten your back, standing tall trying to hid your nerves of currently being alone at this horrid event. You only came to flaunt Chris. He wasn’t your only accomplishment, but he’s the one most people would notice, or talk about. 

The bartender hands you your drink, you thank him and put it down beside you while you stuff the name tag into you purse, not wanting to put it on.

“Y/n?” you hear a voice call. You look up and see a woman parade towards you.

You curse to yourself, wishing you hadn’t been noticed. Your personality and style had changes a lot in the past 20 years, and you rarely post online, but your face never really changes.

Except for her. You recognized most people here, but you didn’t recognize her, yet she wore a name tag, so she had gone to your school. You couldn’t quite read the name tag, and as politely as possible, you look at her quizzically, silently asking who she is.

“It’s Stephanie!” she say excited. Your taken aback. You thought she was overly pretty in high school, being a popular cheerleader, but apparently not pretty enough, because she had obviously had some unnecessary work done. Talk a bout a Karen. Not only did her appearance surprise you, but the fact that she was talking to you. She had been a terrible friend, that you wish you’d never had, and you both said some nasty things at graduation. Why is she acting like nothing happened? 

“Oh, hi,” you greet her. She starts a dreaded, yet casual conversation to catch up, luckily focusing it on herself so you don’t have to talk about you, but that’s natural for her -- being the center of attention. She tells you about her husband, a lawyer, who unfortunately couldn’t make it to the event. She tells you she’s his secretary, and that they have 3 kids. 4, 9, and 15. You zone out at the rest, wondering how she met a lawyer and had a kid with him at 23. It seemed unreal for her to actually find real love and not just be playing a game. You concluded that they probably hooked up once or twice, and she got pregnant and with her master manipulation somehow convinced him to stay. 

“What about you?” she asks, and your shoulders drop, not wanting to talk about your own life. “I heard you and Ethan started sleeping together in college. He’s always been hot. Is that still a thing?”

“No, it’s not. I’m -” you begin but get interrupted buy someone clearing their throat behind Stephanie. She turns around and sees Chris standing behind her. 

Chris looks surprised, angry even, He considered Ethan a friend at this point, but he was unaware of the fact he just heard. You didn’t think to mention it, it having been so many years ago. It didn’t seem relevant or important until Stephanie let it slip.

She was dumb-struck looking at Chris. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed. “I heard you were here. I didn’t want to believe it until I saw it for myself. Who are you here with?” 

Chris walks around her and over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “My fiance,” he answers. He grabs your hand and holds it out for Stephanie to see the large rock on your left ring finger. You blush as her jaw practically hits the floor. 

She takes a step closer to the two of you, Chris towering over you both. “How much did she pay you?” she laughs, obviously not believing the situation. “How did she pay you? She certainly couldn’t afford something this extreme.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, thinking it typical of her. Chris looks at her in disbelief and pulls you away from the snooty bitch, his arm wrapped tightly around you. He pulls you out of the gym to the lobby, walking so fast you could barely keep up, and you were stumbling over your heels. 

“Chris what’re you doing?” you ask, worried. 

He drops his arm from around you and turns away from you, several steps away. he runs his hands over his face and through his hair. 

“Chris?” you say again, more concerned. He only ever acted like this when he was mad, and seeing him mad was never pleasant.

He turns back to you, dropping his arms by his side. “How long?”

“How long what, Chris?” you are still very confused. 

“Don’t bullshit me and try to play dumb, Y/n,” he says, his voice gradually getting louder. “How long were you and Ethan sleeping together?”

You sigh, finally realizing what this was about. You could always tell he was wary of Ethan, you just wondered how long it would take him to say something. You look up at him, a mix of angry and sad tears prickling your eyes.

“How long?!” he yells.

You wince, feeling lucky that the music in the gym was so loud. “A year or two,” you say quietly and he huffs, throwing his arms up in the air, “but it doesn’t matter.” 

Chris turns away from you again, facing the wall and slamming his hand against it. You know it wasn’t anywhere near full force because he showed no sign of the impact against the brick wall hurting him. You jump back, intimidated by him. 

“There were never any strings attached,” your voice cracks. “It was purely friends with benefits. We both just needed the physical affection.” As you try to explain, you step closer to him, putting your hand on his shoulder as he leans against his forearm up against the wall with his head hanging, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

He jerks away from your touch as soon as your hand grazes his shirt. “Do you know how many ‘friends with benefits’ relationships end in feelings, Y/n?” he looks at you, astounded. “Your mom always wanted you to marry him anyway!” He takes a few breaths, but you don’t dare try to interrupt him. “And you just expect me to believe that Hot-Shot Ethan, who can have whoever the fuck he wants, chose to fuck around with you?” His voice is louder than it had ever been when talking to you.

His words hit you like a slap across the face. Like high school all over. Before college, before you cut off trying to find a romantic interest, all you had ever been was used, played, lead on. Then forgotten about or thrown away. A sob wracks through your body, and you take off your engagement ring. The logical part of you knows he’s just saying this because he’s mad, and he wouldn’t have asked you to marry him if he were just using you. But then your paranoid and insecure side tells you he is, that he’s just with you because the media thinks he needs a wife. It tells you you’ve never been good enough, and you never will be. You grip the ring tightly in your hand, the stone pressing into your soft skin. 

“He trusts me, Chris,” you say weakly, covering your sobs with your other hand. “And I thought you did, too.” Your voice is broken, and you sound nothing like your normally composed self. You press your hand with the ring against his chest. “I thought you loved me. But apparently I’m wrong about a lot of things.” You let the ring drop from your hand as you pull away from him and trudge away, your broken heart making it difficult for you to walk straight. You hear Chris calling after you, asking you to wait. Saying not to go, but you ignore his pleads and open the door, stepping into the rain unfazed, letting your feet take you anywhere away from here. 

Chris watches you leave, wanting to run after you but glued to the spot. The words that left his mouth astound him. The creaky gym door open behinds him, and he swings around to see Ethan walking towards him. Chris wants to scream, maybe even throw a punch, but all energy suddenly sucked from his body, he can only collapse on the bench next to him. 

“What’s wrong?” Ethan asks as Chris hangs his head in his hands and puts pressure on his eyes with his palm. “I asked Stephanie where Y/n went, she said you pulled her out of the gym really suddenly.”

“I should be screaming at you right now,” Chris says, his voice loud, but hoarse from the need to cry burning his throat. “How could you to just hide the fact you were sleeping together and go around like it never happened. Are you still?”

Realization hits Ethan. Stephanie hears everything about everyone, and word spreads fast, especially since you and Ethan both went to the local university. She would spill anything she hears in high school, craving the drama. Evidently, some people never change. 

“That was nothing,” Ethan explains. “We were both lonely college kids, and old friends who needed company. We were comfortable around each other, it was just easy. But it meant nothing. Not feelings developed on either side.”

“Why’d you stay friends with her?” Chris’ voice finally breaks.

“We’ve been best friends since kindergarten, and we mutually agreed to stop when we left college. I’m not just going to abandon her like everyone else she let close. It shouldn’t matter. We didn’t think it would because she loves and is completely committed to you. You should at least know by now that she doesn’t take loyalty lightly.”

Chris’ body shakes as he tries to hold back his tears and he doesn’t say anything. 

A shiny glint a ways from Chris’ foot, and bends down, finding your engagement ring on the ground. “Where’d she go?” Ethan asks, picking up the ring. “Where’s Y/n, Chris?”

“She left,” Chris sobs. “I -” he inhales deeply. “I told her a hot-shot like you wouldn’t chose her.”

“Chris, what the fuck?!”

“I know! I-I just couldn’t bare the thought of losing her to you -- to someone she’s known her whole life. I just love her so much any possible threat of losing her blinds me and I just say stupid shit that I don’t really think. I can’t lose her; she’s the best thing to every happen to me.”

Ethan, knowing you so well, and loving you like a sister, fights the urge to hit Chris, knowing he’ll most likely lose, for one, and for two that won’t help the situation. Chris is already extremely distraught, so there’s no need to physically drill him with the emotional damage he’s done.

“I know where she might me,” Ethan starts. “I’ll go find her. You go back to the hotel before you do anything else you’ll regret.”

Chris jumps off the bench, angry. “No, you stay the hell away from her! Just because I fucked up by saying that shit doesn’t mean I trust you,” he yells, almost the top of his voice, and jabs a finger into Ethan’s chest, pushing him backwards slightly. 

“I know her better than you do, jackass,” Ethan yells back at Chris. “She won’t talk to you anyway, at least not now. We’re best friends, and I have always been there for her as she has for me. One thing I do know without being with her right now, Y/n needs you. Not because she can’t support herself, but because she loves you so damn much. But after what you just said, her walls are going to built back higher than they were when you met her because she feels like she can’t have you. And if she can’t have you -- the love of her life -- then she won’t want anyone. So she needs me. She needs a friend’s shoulder to cry on, someone to tell her everything is going to be okay. Someone she can trust and vent to like she always has. So, yeah, Chris. I am going to find her.”

Ethan turns and walks out the doors before Chris can protest further, shoving your engagement ring in his pocket in hopes of convincing you to take it, and Chris back. He get’s outside, and a nostalgic feeling hits him, and guides him to the most logical place you’d be before he could even thing about it. He did think about it once he realized where he was going. And he felt like a teenager again, running after his best friend who just got her heart ripped out. That was true, accept he was twenty years older now. So he goes to the place you’d always run and hide, where he could always find you when he lost you. He goes to the park, a couple streets over from the school. The walk is longer than he remembers, and he sympathizes for you, thinking about the heels and dress you’re wearing, how cold you must be in the freezing rain with no jacket, only a thin dress. The walk always seemed shorter and less inclined as a kid, but that was probably because being 20 years younger gave you more energy.

He reaches the park, passing the play grounds you and him used to play on as kids, and even some as teenagers. He heads to the back, where a large open space sits, a stage at the front of it. Local bands or school music groups would play on the stage sometimes, mostly during the holidays, otherwise it was unused. As he had suspected, he saw you sitting on the stage, your feet hanging off the edge. He walks closer, picking his pace to a faster jog, and stops at the wall of the stage, when he’s below you, making you look at him as you look at your feet. 

You look at his worried expression when you see him, and the tears the stopped not long ago came running back. You thought you had dried out your eyes to the point you couldn’t cry anymore, but it turns out you were emotionally numb to the pain you’ve already felt. Cut the knife into the wound more, and you could still feel it.

Ethan climbs the stage, sitting next to you and wrapping his arm around your shaking form. Shaking from the cold, and crying. He holds you a moment, letting you lean on his shoulder as you cry, before he says anything. 

“Y/n,” he starts, but you don’t respond. You don’t even look at him. “You should go talk to Chris.”

You inhale shakily as you sit up. “I thought he was different,” you sob. “I thought he’d be different than everyone else. Everyone just treats me like shit. Use me. Lead me on. Play me. Throw me away. Forget about me. He’s the same as all of them. I always thought  he’d be different. Even when he was just a stupid celebrity crush. But I was wrong. I’m always wrong. He used me, played me. Worse than anyone. It’s all I’ve ever gotten. Maybe it’s what I deserve. I’ve never been good enough”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Y/n,” Ethan exclaims. “You are worth everything. You’re an amazing friend, an amazing person. You’re unbelievably smart -- you’re an attending surgeon for god’s sake. You did that on your own.  You’re strong and you don’t let anything challenge you.”

“That’s because i got over everyone treating me like shit.” You laugh at your own stupidity, wiping at your tears. “I avoided talking to anyone if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. But then Chris waltzes into my life, convinced me he’s the love of my life, and then rips my heart out.”

“Chris is the love of your life, stupid,” Ethan laughs. “His love for you -- God, I’ve never seen anything like it. That man loves you more than anything. He’s scared of losing you, Y/n, and, take it from another guy, we get scared and we say shit we would never mean. He’s broken. He broke himself when he said that, and in all honesty, he seems more broken then you. You need each other.”

You sit, listening to your best friend go on about this. And as much as you hate to admit it, Ethan’s right. “Fine,” you sigh.

Ethan orders you an Uber back to the hotel and waits with you in comfortable silence until it arrives. When it does, he stops you before opening the door, and pulls your ring out of his pocket, placing it gingerly in your hand. He opens the door for you, tells the drive to turn on the heat, and waves you off. You get the impression that the drive see’s you’re not in the mood for casual conversation.

When you get up to your hotel room, you quietly open the door. Chris is laying on the bed, crying against the pillow you slept against last night. He’s still wearing his button up and slacks.

“Chris,” you call, barely above a whisper, but still loud enough so he can hear you.

Chris doesn’t respond, thinking his mind is playing tricks on him. 

You put your wet clutch down on the table and crawl onto the bed next to him, wrapping your arms around his shaking body. You had never seen him like this before, and you absolutely hate it. As you hold him, you begin to cry again with hi, silently but your body still trembles. 

“Chris,” you sob out against his shoulder.

He sits up, leaving your arms but then pulling you into his. Your smeared makeup stains his shirt, but he doesn’t care. He only cares that he has you. As he holds you, he says he’s sorry, over and over again. You cry into his chest, gripping onto his shirt. Chris holds your head in his sizable hand, holding you to him as he cries, kissing your hair.

You stay like that, with him repeatedly saying he’s sorry. After a few moments in each other’s arms, where you’re meant to be, you both calm down. Chris moves, cradling your cheeks gently in his hands, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

“Y/n,” he says, still breathing shakily as the aftershocks of your bodies persist to wrack through you. “I’m so, so sorry. I never meant any of that. You’re the love of my life, and you are perfect in every way shape and form. Any guy would be the luckiest to call you theirs like I get to. I was just scared -- terrified of losing you. Especially to someone you know so well. Someone who has been there for you practically your whole life. I felt like I can’t compete.

You look up at him, tears prickling your eyes again. “You used my biggest insecurity against me,” you tell him, sobs convulsing you once more.

He grabs your waist, pulling you into his lap and stoking your hair. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to ever suggest anything like that. You’re more than good enough. If anything, you’re too good for anyone. I sure as hell don’t deserve you. You deserve the pure world, and I would give it to you in a heartbeat if I could, but this corrupt piece of shit planet we live on doesn’t deserve you. You’re just too good.” With his words, his constant reassurance, you begin to calm down again. “Everyone from your past is stupid. High school and college kids are all drama, sex crazed maniacs. Some people -- you -- don’t deserve to be around such bullshit for so long. That’s life, and there’s no easy way to avoid it. You’re so strong and you prevailed through all you’ve been through. All those assholes were naive. If they had actually taken the time to get to know you, like I do, and if they would get over their stupid everlasting pubescent hormones, like I did, they’d all be begging for you, like I do, and they’d love you more than anything. Like I do. Those five minutes after the bathroom before I found you, when I did find you, everyone’s eyes were on you. You;re beautiful, and when you’re confident like you’ve become it just radiates more. It’s more noticeable. You’ve become so confident since college, you’re still the same adorable geek, but you own it, you don’t shy away from it anymore. You’re proud to be you, and not many people can say that.” He kisses the top of your head as he finishes his spiel.

You look up at him, caressing his cheek gently as you look at him with all the love in the world. “I don’t deserve you, Chris,” you smile pathetically.

“No,” he says seriously. “Nuh-uh. Nope. Don’t start that bullshit. You’re a puppy.” 

You laugh, looking at him confused. 

“Puppies deserve anything they want, but they’re too precious and must be protected at all costs. So are you. Therefore, you are a puppy.”

“How much time have you been spending on twitter?” you laugh at him, feeling overwhelmed with love.

He nudges your shoulder, and you purposely over react and fall over dramatically as he gets off the bed. He takes you into the bathroom and you both get cleaned up from the eventful night that felt like a whole week. You shower together, but neither of you let things get steamy, as you’ve both agreed that sex is not the appropriate way to make up a mistake or argument. He holds you while in the shower, your back pressed to his chest, and he just admires you lovingly as he washes your back. You get in the bed together after putting some random late-night reruns on the TV, and you lay in his arms. 

“My beautiful wife-to-be, you fit so perfectly into my arms,” Chris says, kissing your shoulder. “You were made for me, and I can’t wait to marry you. It’s already the best day of my life, and it hasn’t happened yet.”

You giggle at his lovey-ness, and settle comfortable into your fiance’s arms, falling asleep with ease in your favorite place. 

------

A/n ok now i feel hella fucking lonely, don’t know if you could tell, but i used things my therapist tells me, all while helping my friend deal with his friends. this took forever, and i don’t know how it ended up here, but i love it and my heart is just tangled in different emotions. like damn i need a man like chris/seb but that’s never gonna happen because im not good enough :’)

[chrismho]

Lakmé

Summary: Is this not the closest I’ve ever been to living?  The Kurosaki Family invites Rukia along with them to the Opera. Ichiruki/Rukia-centric one-shot inspired by the opera scene in Moonstruck. Set a little bit after FB arc.

PS: It’s a pretty famous song but if you haven’t heard Flower Duet  before, I highly rec you give this rendition a listen, it’s breathtaking! : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M9NK-EbUAao

“ICHIGOOOOOOO! RUKI-CHAAAAAN!” 

SMACK!

A day in the Kurosaki household was not complete without at least one collision between Isshin’s face and either Ichigo’s foot or fist. 

“I don't know how many times I have to tell you, old man: QUIT DOING THAT!” Ichigo roared, swiftly kicking his father back to the other side of the living room.

Rukia waited patiently for Isshin to complete this strange ritual, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, Masaki!” Isshin sobbed, throwing himself upon his poster. “H-how cruel, how unloving our son has become! And Rukia at his side, so pure and lovely! W-we truly have here a beauty and the beast!”

“SHUT IT!”

 The dark-haired shinigami watched them butt heads and felt a vague sense of nostalgia swirl inside her. I didn’t realize how much I…missed this, she silently admitted to herself. Seventeen months had passed and Rukia kept herself busy with work--very busy. Too busy to stop and realize just how much she missed life in Karakura. But now that she was back, the realization was sudden and overwhelming; she missed late night hollow-hunting, the bustling hallways at Karakura High, she missed Keigo, Mizuiro, Tatsuki, she missed indulging in her schoolgirl act, pretending that she was human and truly one of them. But most of all, she missed him. That was a realization that had set Rukia very much on edge. Ichigo was a comrade, a partner, a friend. A friend she found herself pining for in those seventeen months. She recalled a saying she learned in the human world, something along the lines of “absence makes the heart grow fonder”. 

Absence had only made Rukia’s heart confused as hell. 

Though almost two years had passed, her relationship with Ichigo picked up almost right where they left off. They bickered, laughed, they understood each other without need for words. But…now there was something new. No, not new; it had always been there. But now....now it was loud. And hard to ignore. It was something that Rukia couldn’t quite name, but its presence was undeniable. It wasn’t uncomfortable...but… but it was there. 

“What do you say, Rukia-chan? Oh, please say you’ll be joining us?”

Isshin’s question snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Eh? I-I’m sorry?” she asked, startled. 

“THE OPERA! An old buddy and colleague of mine has season tickets to the opera house here in Karakura. He’s away on a business trip so he gave me tickets to tomorrow’s show. We haven’t seen you in so long, the girls would just love if you came! SAY YOU’LL JOIN US!” 

“Don’t push her, Dad!” Ichigo said irritably. He turned to Rukia but didn’t meet her gaze. “Seriously, y-you don’t have to go. It’s really boring, the last time I went I wanted to die-”

“OH, BUT THAT’S NOT TRUE,” Isshin cut off gleefully, shoving Ichigo out of the way and putting an arm around Rukia. “The last time we went, Ichigo was but a boy. Though only eight at the time, he was so moved by the performance that he wept and blubbered all night long--” 

“HEY! N-NO I DIDN’T!”

“Yes, you did!” Karin called boredly from the kitchen. 

Ichigo hunched up his shoulders and scowled, his ears and cheeks an angry shade of red. 

“I’d be delighted to attend this...this ‘op-ohr-a’, Mr. Kurosaki!” Rukia declared, a cheerful and sparkly smile on her face. “Excellent! Come tomorrow evening at 7, and dress your very best, my dear! The opera is a most formal event,” Isshin beamed. 

“Whatever. And get your arm off her!” Ichigo grumbled, yanking Rukia away from his father and up the stairs to his room. 

“Ah, young love,” Isshin sighed after them.  “Eager to get her to your bedroom, I see? Yes, yes, I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do, if you catch my drift--” 

“SHUT UP!” Ichigo screamed over his shoulder. He hurried Rukia inside his room and slammed the door shut. 

“Nice to see the family dynamic hasn’t changed,” Rukia said, a sly smile on her face. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall alongside his bed. 

“1000 Yen says my dad’s got an ear pressed up to the door right now,” Ichigo replied. He sounded annoyed but there was a humorous glint in his eye. He looked up and met her gaze. They both dissolved into a quiet, gentle chuckle. 

“Feel free to sit, you know,” Ichigo said, gesturing towards the bed. “I know it’s been a while but time’s never stopped you from acting like you own this place.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m fine here,” Rukia responded, cursing herself for answering him a little too vehemently. Ichigo looked at her questioningly, and Rukia could have sworn she saw a very, very faint blush creep on his cheeks. A moment of silence passed. 

Tension. That’s what it was. 

“So what is this opera thing, anyway? I just realized I agreed to something I know nothing about,” Rukia asked, eager to change the subject and genuinely curious about this “most formal event” that moved a young Ichigo to tears. 

“It’s, uh, like a play. But with only singing. Really loud, annoying singing. And fancy costumes. And they usually end in tragedy.” Ichigo said, scratching the back of his head. 

Her amusement at his fumbling explanation made Rukia forget her discomfort earlier. She smirked and flopped onto his bed. “Sounds like fun. So this loud, annoying play moved you to tears, eh?”

“IT DID NOT-Hmph, *ahem*, It did not move me to tears, I told you already that I found it boring. And I SAID YOU COULD SIT ON MY BED, NOT LIE ON IT!” 

“Oh, Daddy, th-they’re on his bed already! They certainly are fast, aren’t they?” a muffled voice that sounded suspiciously like Yuzu’s could be heard saying from the other side of the door. 

Ichigo’s left eye twitched. 

He swung the door open and Isshin and Yuzu tumbled onto the floor. “SCRAM!” He roared, shaking his fist as they hurriedly fled the scene. 

_____

Giant, crystal chandeliers hung over the U-shaped hall, twinkling prettily in the warm, golden light. The house was packed with many well-dressed and well-to-do people. The euphony of various conversations and chatter rang pleasantly in the air. If Ichigo had been moved to tears by the place alone, Rukia would understand; it was truly, truly beautiful. She tilted her head back, taking in the glittering chandeliers and intricate paintings of flowers and stars on the ceiling. She must have looked visibly awestruck, for she turned to her side to find Ichigo looking back at her, an odd, almost tender smile on his face. She gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs. “What? What’s with that dumb look?” She snapped. 

“AGH! What the hell, Rukia?” He glared, letting out a sharp exhale before putting on another smile, this one more teasing. “N-nothing, I was just thinking...the last time I was here as a kid, I remember looking up at the paintings on the ceiling and counting all the stars as a way to pass the time. I guess I was just wondering if you were doing the same.” 

Rukia blinked. It was rare for Ichigo to divulge….well, really anything about his past and his memories. To share this random little anecdote felt oddly intimate. She felt her cheeks warm slightly and turned away. “Heh, no I wasn’t counting, I was just...admiring. She looked back up and couldn’t help but laugh. “Ichigo, there are hundreds of stars, up there! Did you really count them all?” He looked up too and smiled wryly, shaking his head. “Nah, the show always started and the lights would go off before I ever finished. But...I like that I don’t know. It’s this weird, unfinished mystery that just...stays up there on the ceiling, y’know?”

His amber eyes and fiery-orange hair glowed in the warm light of the hall. He glowed. Does he even know how handsome he looks in that stupid tux? Rukia thought, torn between feeling endeared and annoyed. And spewing out weird, lovely musings like that, too. What an idiot. 

She looked down at the program in her lap. In intricate, gold cursive, the words Lakmé: Opera en 3 Actes shone smack dab in the middle. “Is...is this in French?” she asked. “Yeah, but it’s okay; you see those black screens above the curtains up there? They’ll have translations…”

The lights began to dim. 

Quickly, stealthily, Ichigo stole one last look at Rukia in full light. She was already a beautiful woman but tonight she practically glowed. With the help of Yuzu and Karin, she had parted her cropped hair to one side and teased it into elegant waves. She had reluctantly let them put makeup on her, too, and Ichigo had a hard time keeping his eyes away from her lips, soft and painted red like a pomegranate. She was wearing a dress that Ishida had surprised her with a few weeks ago, a wine-colored sleeveless piece that gently hugged her form and flowed past her knees. Yeah. She glowed. It was annoying. 

Y’know, I bet she knows exactly how good she looks and is only pretending to be oblivious. He thought. What an idiot.

The red velvet curtains pulled back to reveal what looked like a stone courtyard on stage, adorned with all sorts of plants and exotic flowers. But the set was nothing compared to the music that emanated from the pit in front of the stage. She’d never heard anything like this. Not on the streets of Rukongai, nor in the banquets and gatherings in Seireitei. What was it Ichigo had called them? An orchestra. An orchestra, an orchestra, an orchestra. She had to remember that word. How so many voices, so many different strange and wonderful-looking instruments, could come together and create a sound so unified and sweet amazed her. 

A procession of people dressed in long, unstitched garments came onto the stage, singing words Rukia could not understand. A big man, clad in a costume beard and yellow robe, opened his mouth and began to sing a solo.

Rukia froze. 

It was obvious what he was doing required much skill, but….he sounded...funny? Rukia narrowed her eyes and fought a smile, trying to reason with this deep voice that shook with such a fervent vibrato. 

She heard a snicker two chairs away from her, and turned to see Karin in the dim light, her face contorted humorously. Rukia was about to join her before Isshin turned to his daughter with a glare so scary and dangerous that any humor at all in both Karin and Rukia was effectively vanquished. 

So entranced was she by the costumes and lights and flutes and cellos that the dark-haired shinigami found herself forgetting to glance up at the translations above the stage. She looked just enough times to gather that this was set in a temple in which rites were being performed. The ritual ended, and as smoothly as they glided in, the singers drifted back off the stage, leaving behind two women. 

The women, arm in arm, walked down to the “river” on stage to gather flowers. The one dressed in red turned to her companion and began to sing:

Viens, Mallika, les lianes en fleurs

Jettent déjà leur ombre

Sur le ruisseau sacré

qui coule, calme et sombre,

Eveillé par le chant des oiseaux tapageurs.

Rukia froze once more. This time, there was no urge to laugh. Goosebumps rose on her arms. Her ears tingled. What, Rukia thought shakily. What is this?

The other, dressed in a simpler, sun-colored dress answered her friend in a voice just as haunting and sweet:

Oh! maîtresse, c'est l'heure

où je te vois sourire,

L'heure bénie où je puis lire

Dans le coeur toujours fermé

De Lakmé!

 Rukia clenched her teeth, maintaining a stone-cold Kuchiki expression while her soul inside shook and quaked. 

What is this?

                                                 Dôme épais le jasmin

                        Sous le dôme épais où le blanc jasmin

Like flowers landing on the surface of a pond, their voices floated, glided, rippled through the hall, lighter than air. 

                                                    À la rose s'assemble

                                        À la rose s'assemble

The melody seemed to follow some invisible wave that drifted down, then up, then down, and down again. It was elegantly unpredictable, like the path a feather takes on the way to the ground.

Rukia’s throat caught. The swelling in her chest bewildered and almost angered her. This...this beauty was almost cruel. Her eyes felt hot. Her face remained expressionless.

                                                 Rive en fleurs, frais matin,

                             Sur la rive en fleurs, riant au matin,

I never did get the chance to understand what it is to live, Rukia thought. She had, in fact, died when she was only a baby. 

I....could see traces of what life was in the youth and excitement of Ichigo and his friends...the sound of their laughter, their chatter about the future.

                                                 Nous appellent ensemble.

                                       Viens, descendons ensemble.

With each rise and fall of their voices, Rukia felt as though her soul was expanding. The singers’ figures became blurry behind the tears that began to well in her eyes.

But this…this swelling in my chest, and the goosebumps on my skin. My throat...feels tight. 

A tear broke free and began to trickle down her cheek. 

Is this not the closest I’ve ever been to living?

Ichigo gazed steadily at the stage, letting himself float and drift with the melody. It was no wonder the Flower Duet was such a famous song, even to those unfamiliar with opera. He cleared his throat as quietly as he could and turned to check on Rukia. His jaw clenched. 

                                               Ah! glissons en suivant

                           Doucement glissons; De son flot charmant

She stood absolutely still, upright, her small, pale hands clenched into fists on her lap. She did not look at him. He watched with well-hidden astonishment as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She stared solemnly at the women on stage, blinking slowly. Her amethyst eyes glistened with the water and salt that filled them. 

                                                         Le courant fuyant

                                  Suivons le courant fuyant

A lump began to form in Ichigo’s throat. He turned away, back to the stage. He couldn’t put into words what she was feeling, but he felt he understood it. He didn’t want to intrude on her moment, but he also wanted to let her know that she was not alone. Even when they were worlds apart, he’d find a way to reach her. Slowly, his hand moved towards hers. 

His fingertips lightly brushed her wrist, and traveled up towards the back of her hand. 

Rukia kept her eyes fixed on the singers. She gave no indication that she even noticed his hand on hers. A twinge of disappointment and embarrassment stung him. I...probably ruined her moment. I shouldn’t have-

His heart stopped. Silently, suddenly, the slender, cold hand seized his own. She intertwined her fingers with his and squeezed lightly. She did not look at him. 

                                                     Dans l'onde frémissante,

                                      Dans l’onde frémissante

To this day Ichigo couldn’t say what the hell compelled him to do what he did next. Maybe it was the nearly two years of separation, or the swelling music and stupid, glittering, chandeliers messing with his head, or the way she gripped his fingers with such a quiet and loving intensity, or a mix of all of those things. Slowly, he raised her hand up, off her lap. 

                                                   D'une main nonchalante,

                                      D’une main nonchalante,

Rukia stirred, tilting her head slightly towards him. He brought her hand up to his face and slowly, gently, firmly, pressed his lips against her knuckles. Rukia’s eyes flashed wide open, and now she turned to look at him. Another tear rolled silently down her otherwise stoic face. Ichigo opened his eyes and looked back at her. 

                                            Dôme épais, blanc jasmin,

                             Sous le dôme épais, Sous le blanc jasmin,

Nothing was said, but a thousand words were exchanged between them. Ichigo lowered her hand but did not let go. They held their gaze for a moment longer, then turned their heads back towards the stage. 

                                                      Nous appellent ensemble!

                                    Ah! descendons ensemble!

[pompompossum]

Man, not to ship bash but I find LucJean to be really funny because it just reminds me of the type of wlw & mlm friendship where you're just acting as each other's beard 24/7.

Crepus and Frederica know that none of their kids are straight but sit with a smile and a nod each time they see the three of them group together during formal events, taking turns dancing to avoid matchmakers and potential suitors.

[jawritter]

Promised

Chapter 2

**Series Warnings!! ** ABO dynamics! Smut, unprotected smut, knotting, claiming, mating, heat, rut, language, overly protective Jensen, age gap! 19-year-old reader, 41-year-old Jensen, virgin reader, loss of virginity, sort of an arranged marriage, hint at possible mob type settings.

Story Description:

In a world where your presentation can be a blessing or a curse, a newly presented Omega will come face to face with the harsh reality of Alphas, Omegas, and pack alliances that are expected to be upheld with the union of your two families…

A/N: Pt.2!!! Please don’t copy my stuff! Feedback is welcomed! If you want to be added to the series tag list, or just my tag list in general let me know! Cross-posted on Wattpad! Hope you enjoy it!! This is my first ABO series so be nice lmao!

Word Count: 2251

Pairing: Jensen x reader, Father x Reader, Alan Ackles x Reader. OFC Sister X Reader

"Y/N! There you are," your dad says, grabbing you in a tight one-armed hug. 

"Hey, squirt! Happy birthday!" your uncle David said, grabbing you in a hug as soon as your father let you go.

Your uncle was an okay guy, or at least you liked him. He was big and loud, usually a cut-up at any event. He knew how to lighten the mood, whereas your father on the other hand was all business all the time. He seriously needed to take some pointers from your uncle...

"I assume your sister has filled you in on who your honorary guest will be tonight," he said, pulling you away from the crowd a little, and taking a drink off the server's tray that was passing while making their way through the crowd.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your stomach fluttered with nerves at the very thought of what was to come for you tonight. 

"Yes, dad," was all you could say, eyeing the crowd like someone might jump out and attack you any minute.

"Don't worry, he's not here yet," your dad said, looking you over to make sure you were what he thought was presentable. 

"When they get here you are to stay close to him until he dismisses you, act like he's already your Alpha because with any luck he will before tomorrow night." 

You nod, not saying anything, trying to mentally prepare yourself for what was expected of you.

"Now you remember the protocol. Walk behind him when in the presents of other Alphas or any formal guest. You are to stand there and look pretty. I know that sounds bad, but that's the shortest version I can describe to you right now because they're going to be here at any moment." your dad said, checking his watch before looking around at the crowd.

"Dad, I'm scared," you tell him, overcome by emotions you feel like your about to start crying. It's easy for all those other Omega women to follow their Alpha around like that because you assume that it's instinct. You though, don't have that instinct.

"Afraid of what hun?" your dad asked, turning his full attention to you for the first time as you take a deep breath to trying to keep the tears from falling. The last thing you needed was to be a crying mess when Jensen and Alan arrived.

"What if he doesn't think I'm pretty enough? I'm don't look like those women he sees in Holywood. I haven't presented yet. I'm not an Omega. What if he rejects me? What if I smell repulsive to him? What if..." 

Your dad stops your stammering before you could get too hysterical.

"Listen to me Y/N, Jensen isn't that kind of a man. I promise you, he's not interested in that mess that is running around Holywood. He's not that kind of person. You look fine. Also, he's not going to reject you, he's not going to be repulsed by you. Don't overthink this, and don't worry. Just do what's expected of you, and everything will be fine. Trust me, I wouldn't put you in danger. Jensen will love you, you will see." your dad said, giving you a side hug. His phone buzzed loudly, and he looked down at it before looking back up at you, a smile on his face.

"It's time," he said, leading you toward the side entrance into his office just off from the garden.

You felt like you wanted to throw up, cry, and run away screaming all at once. Your heart was pounding so hard in your ears that you were afraid you might pass out. Your dad kept a tight grip on your shoulder like he half expected you to run himself.

"Remember, stay close to him, he's expecting you to act like your already his Omega, so I suggest you don't stray too far from him. This is a good opportunity to get to know him a little before you present. Not everyone gets to meet their Alpha beforehand." your dad says, giving you one last warning look before opening his office door.

There you found Alan sitting behind your father's desk, tapping his hand on the desk while looking through his phone. He looked up at your dad and you when he noticed the door open, a smirk crossing his lips when he looked at you before standing with his hand stretched out to your father. 

"Y/D/N! Good to see you again!"

"Alan, It's good to see you again as well," your father greeted the older Alpha like they where old friends. 

"How's business in Dallas lately? I have been meaning to make a trip, but I've been so tied down here with training a new assistant I can't seem to get away!"

You didn't hear Alan's response, you were too distracted by the tall Alpha that walked up behind Alan. He was wearing a black suit, with a white dress shirt. His brown/blonde hair styled perfectly in a side sweep, a well-trimed beard of the same color gracing his strong jaw. His broad shoulders filled the suit perfectly. His piercing green eyes stared at you over his father's shoulders. Light lines surround his eyes that you would only assume that if he were to smile would be more prominent. A light dusting of freckles covered his cheeks and nose. He was devastatingly handsome.

"Ah, Y/D/N, this is my son Jensen, Jensen this is Y/D/N, Y/N’s father, and pack leader of the South East Texas pack."

Jensen gave your father a professional-looking smile before shaking your father's hand.

"Nice to finally meet you in person, Jensen," your dad said. 

Jensen smiled and nodded his head. 

"Nice to meet you as well sir." 

The deep rumble of his voice had you suppressing a shiver. Was it legal for a man to be that damn attractive? You were expecting an old graying man that was repulsive. Not a drop-dead gorgeous Greek God. Here he was though, standing there before you like he had every right to do so. He was so attractive it was damn near rude.

"Jensen this is Y/N, my daughter," your dad said, and Jensen's eyes diverted to you. 

He smiles warmly, reaching out taking your hand in his leaning down just enough to brush his beautiful full, pink lips over the back of your hand before coming up to smile at you. Your skin tingling like mad where his lips touched you, and your heart stopping for a moment.

The two older Alpha's watching the interaction between the two of you with smiles on their faces.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N," Jensen said, his green eyes boring into yours like they could see into your very soul. 

You tried your best to return the smile. Hoping you didn't look as stupid as you felt you looked in that moment.

"It's nice to meet you, Alpha," you greeted him formally, bowing your head slightly in submission to him. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.

Jensen’s chest rumbled in what you could have sworn was a purr, showing his approval of your way of addressing him.

"Please no formalities, sweetheart. It won't be needed tonight." 

Offering his arm to you before your fathers walked all of you out of the office, and back into the garden for the dinner party. Both older Alpha exchanging a smirk between them like they all knew something you didn't.

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

The rest of the party went off as planned. You greeted guests that approached you, staying as close to Jensen as he seemed to be allowing you too. Following behind him like your father told you unless he offered you his arm. Giving you permission to then walk next to him, which he seemed to do more often than you expected of him.

It did briefly cross your mind that he was trying to keep physical contact between the two of you to see if it would trigger your heat. You shoved the thought down though, keeping a smile on your face as best you could. Even past your nerves and your fluttering stomach. Especially when Jensen would smile in your direction, or pull out your chair when dinner was served.

Even though you were to follow him around all night the two of you never really had a moment alone. Which you expected, though it made conversation between the two of you almost impossible. All night long other Alpha's in the family would go to Jensen, keeping his attention focused on them.  Which you knew was custom in these types of events. Still, you wished you could get to know him a little.

As the night started to come to a close Jensen reached over, offering you his arm one last time before leading you out to the front of the house where there was a sleek black SUV waiting. 

Jensen took a seat on the bench in front of the house with you. Your dad and Alan not too far away at all times, but giving the two of you more distance than you ever expected for the first time tonight.

Jensen looked you over, his strong features calm, never changing, or showing any emotion.

"I'm sorry we didn't really have a chance to talk too much. You know how these formal events go. When really we're lucky to have even met each other before..."

He let his words trail off, looking out over the grounds before bringing his attention back to you. Before you even had a chance to say anything, Jensen leaned in close to you, putting his face very close to the pulse point in your neck and inhaled deeply. 

He was careful not touching you, but he was so close that you could feel his breath fan your skin. A shiver involuntarily ran down your spine.

When he looked back up at you, you could have sworn his eyes turned a slight shade of gold. His eyes raked over you again, and you sat there speechless. Feeling like an idiot for your voice failing you. Swallowing hard you try to keep your emotions under control. Knowing that he, being an Alpha, he could literally smell fear. 

Even though you were drawn to this man in a way you couldn't explain, you also couldn't escape the slight twist in the pit of your stomach that you could only assume was fear. He was an alpha, and not all alphas were not nice. You knew that was a risk you, and any other woman took.

Jensen stood without warning, and you stood next to him. He took your hand in his again. Brushing his lips over the soft skin of the back of your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. Your body shivers again, why do you keep doing that? Where his lips touched your skin it was like an electric current flowed through your body.

You could see Alan and your dad approaching the two of you, and you knew it was time for him to leave. Your heart ached within you. You really didn't want him to leave for some reason.

"It was a pleasure to meet you Alpha," you finally said, bowing your head to him slightly in submission again. 

This time he allowed it... That was a change from earlier... Maybe he didn't like you after all. You were so sure when he scented you that maybe he like you.

"See you soon, Omega," he said, turning on his heels, and leaving you standing there with a shocked expression as he joined his father in the car. Giving you a smirk as he closed the door that literally made your heart stop.

You hadn't yet presented? Why did he call you an Omega?

Your dad escorted you back into the house. You were starting to feel tired. The stress of the party you assumed getting to you.

"Dad, if it's okay I think I'm going to turn in, I'm exhausted, and apparently I failed, because he left without me," you said, looking down at your feet, trying not to cry. 

Your father was going to lose his position in the pack, and it was all because you were a stupid Beta.

"Sometimes it takes a day or two to show whether your heat is triggered or not. Go to bed, rest, tomorrow is a new day, and we will take it as it comes... I said from the beginning that whatever happens was meant to be. If you present as Omega you have a good man waiting for you."

You smiled a little to yourself. 

"Do you think he really liked me, dad?" you asked, thinking back to the Jensen had your skin tingling again where his lips had brushed you.

"I saw him scent you, I'd say he was pleased by what he found. Now don't think about it too much, and go get some rest. I'll clear out the guest and we can all turn in for the night." your dad said before turning on his heels at the foot of the stairs. 

Your mind swimming with thoughts of piercing green eyes and strong calloused hands as you climbed out of the shower, and into an oversized sleeping shirt.

Your dad was right, tomorrow was a new day, and hopefully, you would feel better about all this in the morning. Your mind still swimming with thoughts of Jensen and the uncertainties that surrounded your family as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep...

Jensen's words still ringing in your head clear and confusing to you in your current state of exhaustion...

"See you soon Omega...."

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

Catch up! Promised Series Masterlist

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​

Series Tag List:

@onethirstyunicorn​

[gildersbane]

The Gilder’s Bane

“ Portraits “ 

Boots, loose around the ankles from their laces removed to  make a lasso, fell upon stone floors as Princess Petra marched down the corridors. Morning sunlight dipped in through dusty glass in arched windows. Lighting her path as she journeyed past locked doors and prying eyes toward the nursery. A place she’d not been since she was a baby, but which was now the home of a baby sister.

A baby sister who picked a truly terrible time to decide to join them. 

They weren’t expecting her for another couple weeks. Maybe if they had been allowed that kind of time, this whole mess would have blown over. Maybe without a new baby in the home and a mother recovering from labor, everyone wouldn’t be on high alert all the time. This would have been a problem, obviously, but they might have actually let it go after a couple days. 

But it wasn’t as if they could just put her back. She was here now and everyone was going to have to get used to it. And Petra… Petra was going to have to start setting a “good example”. Whatever that meant.  She liked to think that she was setting a fine example as she was. 

Steps came to a stop outside the cracked nursery door. Petra pushed it open the rest of the way and peered into the shadows. Inside it was dimly lit, with only a bit of light slipping through the sheer white curtain over the window. It was warm inside from the morning sun beating against the castle but the sleeping little one in the antique bassinet. Looking at this old, plush piece of furniture, the elder princess couldn’t imagine a time when she was ever tiny enough to fit inside it. It sat beneath a lovely canopy of pink cloth that draped around it. Providing a little fortress for the child to rest without light from the outside world slipping in.  For now, though, those drapings were withdrawn, as Meliora had just been in here with her daughter. Liking sitting with her in the leather armchair that sat just beside it within the canopy.

The little girl’s eyes didn’t open as Petra approached and looked down at her. She was swaddled in a plush blanket and peacefully sleeping the morning away without a care in the world. Despite the noise from the castle staff hurrying from one wing to another, the construction happening up on the roof and the barking of castle dogs beyond the window in the courtyard below. She didn’t stir. For however much longer that would last before she’d wake and begin to cry again for food or clean dressings or attention. It was a miracle she was able to stay quiet long enough for the nursemaid to step out and fetch something.

Petra leaned against the edge of the bassinet carefully. Looking down at the itty bitty princess as she lay. Her baby soft, warm brown skin. The tuft of dark, fluffy hair on just the very top of her head. She looked more like a doll than a little human.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” Petra whispered as she stepped back from the child to let her have her rest. 

Clearly the currently nameless infant wasn’t in dire need of care. She was fine unattended before Petra showed up, surely she’d be fine for another few minutes while Petra took a walk to clear her head. Luckily she knew just the place for it that happened to be right down the hall. So Petra slipped out of the nursery without a sound, leaving the door ajar so she could hear her sister if she started to cry. A moment later she was walking further down the hall in a direction away from where she’d find anyone else in her family.

This path led Petra to one of the more prestigious halls in the entire castle. Down the hall, down a short flight of stairs and around a corner, she found the portrait hall. A place where portraits of every ruler of Argustead hung along with some of their treasured items. Alongside at least a dozen portraits of people Petra wasn’t certain the identities of. But it was the rulers who had the biggest and most ornate frames. 

Aside from the princess and her ancestors this hall was vacant. Everyone had much more important business elsewhere. With her head hung, Petra walked past more than a handful of her ancestors. Her paternal grandparents frowning down at the world in oil paint. A sour looking pair neither Lucien or Petra had ever met. Their parents beside them, looking even more uptight with ruffled collars that looked as if they would soon be swallowed whole. An empty space made to accommodate the portrait that would someday hang for King Lucien- The latest in a long line of great men. And beside that space…

“Hi, Dad.” 

Petra’s voice broke the silence that filled the hall with a solemn tone. Her eyes didn’t lift from the floor at first to look at him. But when she did, her chest felt tight and her shoulders heavy. Stoic eyes the same color as her own stared out at the world, seeming to follow her no matter where she stood. His expression was still and lacking any emotion but Petra didn’t mind. It was just good to see him again. King Samuel, late king of Argustead, stood poised with his head high. In his grasp he held his trusty wooden shield. He wore a deep red velvet suit with the silver trim like his own parents wore. Meliora had always used to tease him about looking like a tomato with those red clothes and auburn hair on his stocky body. Over the years he’d grown out the thick ginger beard that covered the lower half of his face in this portrait. It was painted only a couple years ago. Before anyone would have ever considered that the worst could happen. 

Below the portrait, hanging on the wall at eye level was an old, worn shield of wood. The one in the portrait but with a few more years and a few more battles added to its life. It’s circular shape had been broken by a large wedge of it having been hacked out by a powerful axe blow. The bronze plate at its center was scratched and dented but sturdy. Damaged as it was, it wouldn’t be of any use in a battle these days. But it had served Samuel well in his life, up until the very end. And when tragedy struck, it was with its king until the bitter end. Meliora had given her blessing to put the shield on display. To immortalize her late husband’s bravery and honor his memory.

‘Honor his memory’...

With a hefty sigh, the princess turned her back to the wall and sank onto the floor. She dropped her head back against the cold stone and closed her eyes tightly. She could feel the frustration rising again just thinking about everything that had happened in the last few weeks. Everyone partying at the Coronation like it was just another celebration, everyone telling her to stop acting the ways she’s always been encouraged to act, hammering in how things would need to be different now.

“How am I supposed to honor your memory if everyone wants to change everything you left behind?”

Petra knew there wouldn’t be an answer, but she needed to ask somebody. Nobody else seemed to understand why she couldn’t just let the past go. Why she didn’t want to stop doing the things he’d taught her to do. 

When she was little, Samuel always had an adventure for her. He knew that she’d never have the same esteem as Lucien since she was the second born child to the second queen… So he’d tried his best to give her as much freedom as he could give. As much room to forge her own path as their kingdom could allow. When he realized how much she loved to watch the guards training, he realized that she wasn’t going to be the same kind of reserved and quiet child her brother had been. He asked the captain to let Petra join the younger class of future soldiers. She trained along with the future squires and young hopefuls who longed for the days when they could be a brave knight for the kingdom. Defending their furthest borders from all manner of fiend and foe. It wasn’t the life most kings wanted for their daughters, but Samuel wasn’t blind as they were to what his children needed. 

Petra could still remember the swell of joy when she was given the family armor. It wasn’t a full suit, it hadn’t been as long as it was in the royal family’s possession. It had been refitted generations ago to fit a smaller body than the broad shouldered men of their family. It was a perfect fit for Petra. She wore that silver armor as often as she could get away with it. Sometimes even wearing the greaves under her gowns at formal events. She only got in trouble for it a couple of times. 

But even that had changed. All because of that sword. The moment she discovered it in that ancient forge, it drastically altered her life. In ways that she still didn’t fully understand. But it was special. Petra could feel it. A smoke creature no one could identify had come out of nowhere to attack her for it. It was a mystery that needed to be solved and nobody but her was even trying. She was certain that if she just went back up to that forge she could find clues. Maybe Petra could learn who put the sword there for her to find it. And maybe figure out why she was having such strange dreams. But Lucien had forbidden her from going back up the mountain. In fact, after her last fight, he’d locked her in the castle indefinitely. 

True. It was the worst Petra had ever been beaten in a fight… But the injuries were mostly superficial and wouldn’t even leave scars. Everyone was making a big deal out of the wrong things. She was okay. They needed to find out what was going on.

Why wasn’t anyone on Petra’s side in this?!

“Your highness?”

Her eyes opened with a start and the princess looked around the previously empty hall. The portraits still stared lifelessly out at each other on both sides. The only People in the hall were Petra and…. Whoever the guy at the end of it was. 

He didn’t look much older than her. A year or two, tops. He had a long, rounded face Petra may have seen around the castle a few times, but never paid close attention to. Maybe down on the lower floors by the dungeons. Where the court alchemists and royally appointed smart people worked. But this guy didn’t look like he was one of those people. He didn’t look aged or bearded enough for that. Plus he still had a full head of black hair divided into many thick locks atop his head. A lot of those old guys downstairs had long since lost their hair to the years.

He also wasn’t dressed nearly as elegantly as the court mages in their flowing robes. This guy’s clothes looked second hand and well worn. With visible repairs made to the seams of his green overcoat. 

“I’m kind of in the middle of something here.” Petra pointed out, gesturing to the portrait over her head. 

The boy didn’t seem deterred. In fact he only smiled and walked closer before stopping a couple yards back and bending at the waist to bow. 

“Your highness, I was hoping for just a few minutes of your time.” He said, lifting his head to peak up at her. “I heard whispers- gossip really. I had to find out for myself if it was true. Did you truly fight a … monster?”

A loud groan rumbled from the princess’ chest as she hauled herself up onto her feet, “What? Have you come to tell me I’m crazy too? That I should stop running into trouble? Or that it’s my own fault that some big purple smoke monster showed up and attacked me and tried to take MY magic sword?”

The stranger popped up from his bow, eyes wide and sparkling with delight at her words. His face split into a wide grin and his hands dove into the satchel he wore draped across his body. He pulled a roll of wrinkled parchment and a quill out and took a few steps more toward Petra.

“Crazy? It sounds exciting! In fact, I was hoping that you would allow me to be the one to document your account of the events.” 

This was definitely a surprise to Petra. This guy was the first to volunteer to listen to her.

“Who are you?” She asked, her brow furrowing curiously as she looked him over, “Why do you want my account? Hasn’t the king already given everyone the official story?”

Petra nearly rolled her eyes. Yes. Lucien’s story had, of course, been that the assault on her had been an isolated incident and not a reason for panic. That the one responsible would soon be brought to justice and that their peace wouldn’t be disturbed. Petra wondered if anyone actually believed it. 

With a sheepish smile, the young man bowed his head once again. “My name is Micha Fontaine. I’m an apprentice to the royal archivist. Mostly I help keep our scrolls organized and make sure the old books get dusted. But I’m hoping to change that.”

He righted himself and clutched his paper to his chest with purpose, his eyes full of resolve.

“Can I speak my mind, your highness?” Micha asked, his tone hopeful but careful. Petra gave a shrugging nod. She figured he was already doing that… “With all due respect to his majesty, I don’t think his story was… enough. The people want details. They want a mystery and they want to see it solved.”

Already Petra could see that she liked where this was going. 

He continued, his voice lifting enthusiastically. “I want to give the world a story they’ll never forget. Mystery, action, magic-!”

As he carried on, Petra’s ears picked up on something else in the castle. A different sound she couldn’t quite make out. A faint, distant droning. 

“If what I heard is true, your story of what happened three days ago could be just what I need.”

Petra raised a hand, trying to quietly shush the boy as his bright voice completely overpowered her hearing. That sound was still going. Shifting and changing in pitch somewhere within the castle. But what it was exactly she couldn’t tell with Micha talking over it.

“If I get your first hand account of your experiences then I could finally prove myself and move up in the world.” He blinked, watching the princess waving her hands to try and quiet him. “.... What are you doing?”

“Stop talking.” She whispered, eyes darting around the corridor, trying to discern what she was hearing and where it was coming from. 

The droning continued in an unbroken rhythm from somewhere else in the castle but here. It was an unfamiliar tone to someone who had spent every day within these castle walls. Petra had spent her entire life getting used to every voice, every creak and every groan these old walls held. But this was entirely new. It was also markedly nothing like the pounding of the construction. And with the castle locked down, it was very unlikely that they had a visitor. 

Not a welcome one anyway. 

One look at Micha’s face and Petra could see that he also heard it and was equally disturbed. Despite the fact that they’d never met, it was clear that the boy had been around long enough to know when something didn’t belong. As the princess took a few steps back down the hall the way she’d come, a chill rocked Petra to her bones. The humming was coming from…

Upstairs… The Nursery!

Petra gasped, her eyes snapping over to where Micha stood. “Come with me. Now!”

This apprentice archiver was not exactly the ideal backup Petra would have wanted when running into a potential danger. But she was unarmed and he was taller than her. He might at least tilt the odds in her favor if something truly bad was happening upstairs. 

Without pausing to explain or wait for him, Petra took off in a full sprint toward the stairs. She stumbled in her loosened boots but didn’t let that stop her. 

She never should have left her sister alone. She’d told her mother that she’d be there taking care of her. If something happened to her because she wandered off, it would be all her fault! Maybe Lucian was right. Maybe she was being reckless.

Slipping and sliding on smooth stone floors Petra, with Micha quick on her heels and stuffing his belongings back in his satchel, came upon the nursery door she’d foolishly left open. It was now a bit more ajar than she’d left. Confirming that someone had indeed come to this room since she left. She gave a glance back at Micha and signalled for him to follow her lead as she approached. And now that they were coming up on the room the sound they had both heard was clear as day.

It was a voice. Deep, smooth and melodic. A man’s voice by the sound of it. It held a calm but eerie energy with every moment it continued. It was very different from the booming, bone rattling roars of the monster that Petra had fought. This had to be someone else. Whoever this voice belonged to, they seemed to be… Humming. There was no mistaking it, though. It was not a voice Petra knew. And if she didn’t know them, they had no business with her baby sister. 

Casting out any doubts and any fears she might have, Petra threw open the door and entered the nursery, ready to confront this mystery man. When she entered, she saw the canopy curtains around the bassinet drawn closed, though the light from the window shined through them. It was warmer than it had been when she was last in the room. But a cold stab of horror still ran through Petra as she took in the dark silhouette of a figure sitting within the pink curtains. Taller than anyone Petra had known but unmistakably shaped like a person. A person sitting in the nursery of a three day old child, notably cradling something to their chest in the shadows. 

With Micha hovering in the doorway, Petra advanced. In a few quick strides she crossed the room and reached for the curtains to pull them open. When she ripped the curtains back, there was nothing that could prepare her for what she saw within.

Petra might have expected someone foolish enough to invade a castle and attack a child to be dressed like some sort of bandit or thug. But this person- or whatever they were, was dressed too well to be either. He wore a fine black and cream colored suit jacket with gold trimmings and embroidery around the lapels, cuffs and closed waist. His crossed legs were covered in what the princess could only assume were tall riding boots for they were all black and came up well beyond his knees. Making his legs appear even longer than they already seemed to be. But his clothes weren’t his strangest feature. 

He was… Tall. Nearly at eye level with Petra even while seated. And he was grey. Blue-grey like lead or steel and with nearly the same metallic sheen where the light struck him just right. His eyes, kept lowered even as Petra barged in on whatever mischief he might have been up to, were sunken and dark. If there were sclera in his eyes, there was no shine or whiteness in them. Only pools of darkness around two gold irises dotted with blue pupils. He almost looked like a statue sitting in Meliora’s chair. If not for the fact that when Petra looked to his grey hands, she saw him gently holding the baby princess’ tiny hand. While his other arm held the fragile baby close to his body and very out of Petra’s reach. It was worth noting that the infant was, as of yet, unharmed.

And then… there was his hair. Shimmering golden waves- literally- pouring from his scalp. Looking far more like molten metal than strands of hair, it seemed to flow away from his head and stop  of its own accord around his shoulders. Petra now wondered if the added warmth in the room was coming from him. 

This person- This creature was unlike anyone or anything Petra had seen before. He certainly wasn’t the same as that smoke creature. But she had no reason to believe he wasn’t just as malicious.

“Ah.. Hello, Princess.”

That deep voice cut through the silence, knocking Petra from her confused, stunned stupor. She’d been staring and trying to process what she was seeing for so many seconds that she was startled. She tightened her jaw and fixed the mysterious figure with a hard glare as she watched those hollow eyes slowly raise and settle on her. The sight brought abrupt and frightening memories of her dream before she’d awoken on the beach and left her with a powerful and looming sense of dread. The figure didn’t stand up. Didn’t make a move toward her. He only pulled back his thin lips into an unsettlingly calm smile.

“You and I have business to discuss...”

[thorinthehottotty]

May 1st - Lyn's Writing event - Thorin

Prompt - Beaches

Summary: Despite it being a political marriage, you have fallen for your husband but haven't told him.

Warnings: implied smut, angst

Ithellin was beautiful but hot. Too hot for thick dwarven style dresses. The wool and fur trapping the heat and making it worse. By the gods, you didn't have the heat tolerance of your new people.

When the king of Gondor sent a gift to the new visiting queen of Erebor, you were grateful. The silken fabric was light and flowing and allowed for air to cool your heated skin. Your husband, did not like this. His temper occasionally flaring in the worst of moments. His roaring voice challenged you to speak up. You were so angry at his sudden, and very unnecissary, outburst you couldn't think straight. Instead of screaming back at your king, you pinched your lips together and left. Slipping away from the guards, you made for the beach.

There was a storm in the distance.

The distant thunder and flashing of lightning soothed you with it's sympathy. To know you weren't the only thing feeling electric and angry as the waves rolled in to slap the shore.

You would be back but you desperately needed a moment to think. Alone time only came when Thorin was in the bath.

When you married your husband it was not the romance one might believe. You respect Thorin, you loved him in most ways. Diplomatic marriages were not common among dwarves. They all believed they had a one and secretly it broke your heart. The first year of your marriage was approaching and you had fallen in love with your husband. It hurt to know he didn't love you in the same manner.

He had two heirs already. So he had no need to touch you. The most he would do is give you a proud smile and pat your shoulder.

He married you to get a leg up in negotiations. Men were proud and stupid and trusted their own kind. So if he married you, men would trust him more. You were talented with wit and tongue. You always appealed to your kind with ease. Those you spoke with melted into your soft tone and gentle words happily.

The water was colder than you expect as you stand on the beach, hugging yourself. The air salty, the wet sand soft beneith your feet. When was the last time your stood on a beach and felt the water lap at your ankles. A hot wind blew in off the sea, making your heated skin sticky with sweat.

The tears of frustration roll down your cheeks in time with the crashing of the waves. For a moment, you wanted to wade into the sea and stay there for eternity, comforted by it's dark caress as it dragged you out. Instead, you just took in the mirroring turmoil it brought you and found relief in the music of its anger.

The royal guard found you quickly and Dwalin was the one to approach you as you glared to the approaching storm. "Lass, we've been worried sick about you," he coaxes softly upon seeing your enraged tears on your face. You don't meet his gaze. "It's not safe for you to be out here without a weapon and by yourself."

"I need a moment, Dwalin," you reply with a hard voice. The quietness of it nearly being lost to the strong winds.

"Thorin has asked we bring you back." Your face crumbles into a scowl as you look to your friend. He's holding the shoes you kicked off on the rocks a ways back. Near where the rest of the guards were.

"I will return in a while. You can tell him I said that." And you turned back to the ocean. Dwalin gave a frustrated groan.

"Lass, I-"

"I CAN'T FUCKING BREATHE! JUST GIVE ME A FUCKING MINUTE TO CLEAR MY DAMN HEAD! PLEASE!" You scream, turning back to the water and wading in until it reaches your knees. Guilt ate at you almost immediately.

"Aye, my queen." And he retreated. You had never raised your voice to him so he understood you were distressed.

The storm seems to stay distant from you as you carefully sort through your emotions and pain, trying to file each grievance away and relieving yourself with your tears. The fire of rage had long since burned away from your belly and left you with the gaping loneliness that filled you.

Why did you ever decide to marry the king?

It wasn't often you took a moment like this to pity yourself. You did not wallow. You gave your people everything. Your king everything.

Dís was the one to offer the idea to you both. You cursed her, the only one to whom you had admitted any feelings in regards to you husband. His sister smiled knowingly at you as you explained your frustrations to her.

You couldn't help the swell of anger when his voice was recieved by your ears. "The storm will be upon us shortly. Get inside." Defiantly, you twist toward him to glower.

He is taken aback by your puffy, red eyes, but only for a moment. He glowers back, stepping up and closer, a challenging step. "I don't want to fight with you!" You snap.

"Then listen to me!" He bellows back. He gapes when you sink into the water. "I am not above throwing you over my shoulder and dragging you back kicking and screaming! To hell with making trade with Gondor!"

You continue to pout in the cold water, ignoring the shock it gave your body. "What is the matter! Why are you so angry about the damn dress?" You snarl. "Why are you always on the attack with me?" He's shocked when he hears your voice begin to break. His entire face flutters in horror as your lip trembles and tears roll again.

"You are Queen of Erebor. Not Queen of Gondor."

"It is rude to turn away gifts, my king." Thorin flinched away at that. You only called him that when people were around. A formality.

"Get out of the water." His voice is cold.

"I will leave when I am ready to." You rasp.

"Get out of the water." He repeats with a snarl. "Get into the castle. Go to our chambers. And get out of that damned dress."

"I like the dress."

"I did not ask if you liked it or not, do as your king demands." Your lips twitch, defiance rising. You were not acting like a queen. He knows it. In a flash, your dragged from the water and you gasp as your brought up to his chest.

"It's too hot here to wear wool and leather. I don't have the heat tolerance you do!" Thorin doesn't relent, carrying you back to the sandy beaches. "Put me down! You've no right!" He drops you rather unceremoniously into the sand and you glower at him.

"I have the only right. You are my wife. My queen. Is that not what you promised? Does that mean nothing to you!?"

"It means everything to me!" Your answer stops him cold, and then much quiter, you add. "You mean everything to me. You're my king. My friend. My husband, and you don't have to love me like one but I do." His face etches in confusion as he kneels into the sand beside your nearly sobbing form. You swipe a hand at your cheeks, probably looking every bit a mess as you feel. Thunder cracks closer and he looks back at the approaching storm.

"What do you mean by that?" He asks.

"It's political for you. I know that, but that doesn't mean I don't think of you as my husband. I love you."

He moves a hand for a moment to push the windswept hair out of your face and behind your ear. "This dress makes me yearn for you as a husband does for his wife," Thorin explains softly making you gaze at him in disbelief. "I promised you long ago I would not touch you inappropriately. I understand touch is a basic necessity and I did also promise you to give you everything you could desire." You blink up at him, unsure of what to do with this information. "I apologize for my reaction to it," he admits to you. Watching you with the kindest eyes. "I should never have spoken to you in that way."

"I'm sorry for my words as well." You whisper back. He watches you for a long moment and it spurs on more blathering with the difficulty of the words you have to say. Your eyes falling into your lap. Somehow it was harder to look at his gentle stare than his glare. "You are my one true king. You have my sword, my bow, and now my heart. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable with the dress. When we arrive back, I will change into my other clothes and I won't wear it for the rest of our stay. I just can't-"

His hand brushing over your cheek has you pausing and glancing up to see just how delicately he was looking at you. He's so close, eyes sapping every bit of anger from your being and leaving you a trembling mess of nerves. His nose brushes past yours, almost intentionally it would seem as he tilts to press the most tender kiss to your lips, stealing all thought from your wandering mind and leaving you only with the coaxing of his lips. That kiss parted your lips for a spilt second and the smallest of gasps left you. Thorin leaned back in, pressing his lips to yours more deeply this time, but only just. It still held the delicacy of his sweetness.

By the fourth kiss his other hand raised to cup your face and you both were leaning into it, soaking it up like it would be the last time either of you would ever kiss instead of the first. He kissed you like he feared you would flee, as if not to scare you. You didn't know how badly you needed it as your lips softly smacked together. They tingled from the brush of his beard.

The clearing of a throat has you both parting slowly. Thorin peeks beyond you to where Dwalin stood. "We should be heading back. The storms about to hit. It'll be a nasty one."

Thorin gives him a nod and stands, dragging you with him. "Will you come inside now?" He asks you.

"Yes," you respond. It gives him a sigh of relief and your shoes are lifted for you. It's good timing the lot of you have as the rain begins just when you've entered the castle. Thorin takes you immediately to your chambers to change, water and sand trailing behind you as you make your way.

The shutters to the balcony have already been closed and are rattling from the wind. The chambers have become extra stuffy.

You slide the your shoulders out of the fabric and let it fall from your frame along with your soaked slip. A hand reaches from behind to stop you when you reach for the dry one drapped over the bed. Someone had prepared similar graments and your other ones in case you decided against it. You freeze because normally your husband would turn away and give you your privacy but you could feel him behind you.

"No," he hums quietly, pushing his warm body up against the back of yours. It has your heart racing in your chest and you feel more vulnerable now than on the beach below your window. His mouth decends on your shoulder and you shiver under it, melting back into him. He kissed up your slowly as his hands stopped reaching for the bed and instead, you.

They came around, wrapping about your naked form. One pressed over your navel, the other palm stetches between your breasts, right over your racing heart.

"I'm going to make love to you, yâsith," he murmurs as he presses a kiss to the shell of your ear. "I'm going to keep you in these sheets until the early morning light."

"Anything you desire," you promise the king. "Anything."

Yâsith - Wife

@tomisbaeholland

[tcoyd]

I want to tell you a little about the undertale project. The game is already dying out, but somehow I should make my own contribution, for the first time in my 4 years in this game.

And its name: Rock and Roll Sympfony. (there may be mistakes, my English is still bad)

Description of AU

Rock and Roll Symphony is an alternative world of undertale, in which time is ahead of ours, but people's mores are sliding into an even greater abyss. People have found a way to enslave their own people through what everyone likes and listens to at the time of the events of the world. Music became a way of enslavement. The only music allowed to be listened to was the classic, in which low-frequency soundtracks are inserted that change the perception of people. Subsequently, people decide to get rid of the monsters that vehemently "propagated" everything that was not pleasing to people. War is unfolding and monsters are imprisoned in dungeons.

Frisk escapes from the horror of the human world by complete accident and his own inattention, but the world under the ground intrigues and pleases her much more than the world of people: harmony and freedom reign here, from which Frisk first demolishes the "tower". Frisk, after recovering from injuries sustained during the fall, begins to explore the dungeon, telling the monster the unpleasant truth about people and about the genres of music that she owns. The monsters tell her about what she did not know. I don't want to go back, I want to stay in the dungeons.

But one turning point makes Frisk think about going back. It comes when the Boatman is taking Frisk to Snowland ...

"Half of the way the boatman was silent, the road was long, slow and boring. There was almost no current. Frisk thought about what was happening on the surface, the thoughts of her mother and her friends left to their own devices did not give her rest until now Jos-Lowe takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

—Want to come back? - the Boatman begins the dialogue, as if reading the thoughts of young Frisk.

- Huh? Oh ... I don't know ... I miss my family, friends ... They were left alone.

- And ... What prevents you from returning? When you reach the New House, the King will find a guide on how to open the barrier. And business, nothing at all.

- Yes, just a little ... - Frisk laughs, having already forgotten what a smile is for 18 years in hell. But the smile immediately disappears, she remembers what she had to go through. - It's not even that. I don't want to go back to hell. My society ... Far from being an example of beauty.

- You know, when we were still on the surface, I heard the following phrase from you: “We create our own destiny”. So why don't you follow it? I do not know what exactly is going on there, but I can say for sure - you are not alone in your ideas. And if you start, others will be drawn to you. There may not be many of you, but if you do not back down, if you are full of determination in your hearts, you will definitely manage. And if there are many of you, even more so. You yourself can change your fate, and maybe even the fate of the world and the country .... The main thing is to start.

Frisk doesn't answer, thinking. The boatman stops at the shore. The girl comes out and, having paid, drags into the Ruins. She really wondered what she could do in order to change her own fate and the fate of other people, the fate of her family. "

This seemingly strange and short conversation fills her heart with hope and her soul with determination. She finally decides to act in full force.

Detailed plot and scenario of the world in development

Characters

Protaganist Name: Frisk Jos-Lowe

Race: Human

Location after the fall: Ruins

Soul: Weak Determination *

the soul of weakened determination tends to both fade and flare up. If the owner of the soul loses hope and faith, the soul goes out, acquiring a dirty reddish color, almost not shining. If the owner of the soul, on the contrary, is full of hope, faith, spiritual strength, the soul flares up with blood-wine, pulsating and shining brightly. The soul is not resistant to fusion, the fusion of the souls themselves are fragile, perish and fall apart quickly enough.

Appearance:

(detailed reference in development)

Other main characters

! not all characters have received their appearance yet, some are at the stage of early concepts and are superficial, some do not have an appearance at the moment, the article will be supplemented and updated!

Name: Asriel Dreammoor

Race: monster

Place of residence: Ruins

Soul: white, with a red light inside, inverted. *

* Each monster has a light inside, referring it to a certain type of human soul. Inside Asriel's soul is a red light, determination.

The soul of a monster cannot be completely filled with the power of a human soul, the soul melts under the influence of force, after which it dies

Appearance:

Name: Toriel Dreammoor

Race: monster

Place of residence: Ruins, New House

Soul: white, with a blue light inside (soul of decency / honesty), inverted

Appearance:

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Asgore Dreammoor

Race: monster

Place of residence: Ruins, New House

Soul: white, with an orange light inside (courage), inverted

Appearance: A goat-like monster, 215 centimeters tall, an average physique man without prominent features of the figure. The coat is white, interspersed with orange on the face, near the eyes, cheeks and horns, on the body there are spots on the forearm, shoulder, torso, under the ribs. Fiery red hair, short haircut, small beard. Long, curled back horns. Emerald eyes. The king most often wears two types of clothing: an official classic black suit with black shoes and an orange shirt, a tie with a magnolia image. A raincoat of neutral gray with a bright scarlet image of a magnolia on it.

His second suit looks like soft brown pants and a soft lilac sweatshirt.

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Flowey / Bath

Race:??? (presumably a monster, refers to the type of plant Ipomoea Batat, it is not possible to say for sure if Flowey refers to a monster)

Residence: The root of the flower garden is in the Ruins. It can move around the entire dungeon except for Snowfall, does not withstand low temperatures. "Eyes and ears" in all areas available to him

Soul- -

Appearance:

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Chara Dreammoor (before the fall of Hirsch)

Race: Human

Location after the fall: Ruins

Burial site: Ruins

Soul: Rotten Determination *

* the soul, at first glance, is no different from the usual, canonical determination, except for the huge black spot of obsession, shining from within. Any soul, both human and monster, can rot.

Appearance: not designed, only mentioned in photographs in the Drimmoor family album

Name: Sans (Jonathan)

Race: monster

Place of residence: Snezhnegrad

Soul: white, with a blue light inside (decency / honesty) and small inclusions of rot. Jonathan's rot is laziness and frivolity.

Appearance: A low, skeletal monster, about 160 centimeters tall, in a formal black suit with vertical white stripes, a white shirt with a raised blue collar and a relaxed black tie. A black trilby hat appears on his head in time. The inside of the eye sockets is painted in blue magic. It seems to many that he "tints the lower" eyelid "" because of the appearance of the eye sockets. No pupil

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Papyrus (Ryan)

Race: monster

Place of residence: Snezhnegrad

Soul: white, with a blue glow inside and small blotches of rot. Ryan Rot - Vanity

Appearance: a tall skeletal monster, about 190 centimeters in height, in silver armor, dirty and worn in some places. The skeleton does not deny itself and still wears a red long scarf, frayed at the ends. On the "face" of the skeleton, a "smile" is frozen, which makes his skull seem extremely welcoming. There is a crack on the back of the skull from a blow to the head. White pupils shine in the eye sockets.

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Undyne

Race: monster

Place of residence: Waterfalls

Soul: white, with an orange light inside (courage)

Appearance: (detailed appearance in development) amphibious monster about 175 centimeters tall, athletic build. Both eyes see. There are scars on his face, and Undyne can open his mouth much more than meets the eye. Nice girl face. The nose is present, as are the gills. Hair is collected in a cockle. On the hands, from the hand to the elbow, there are fins, on the fingers there are membranes and rather long claws. Scars and pieces of small scales have been torn off along the body in many areas. She is dressed in a loose hoodie and jeans, buttresses on her legs.

Belongs to the class of the ancients, has quite a lot of power

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Muffet (Rosie)

Race: monster

Place of residence: Hotland

Soul: white, with a yellow light inside (courage). There is rottenness

Appearance: monster spider, about 155 centimeters tall, three arms, one pair of legs

Long, waist-length, soft pink hair, two pairs of sky-blue eyes. A predatory smile with large fangs, the "skin" is pale pink, a pair of sharp horns protrude from the head. She is wearing a long scarlet haori, underneath a T-shirt and white shorts. The fingers on the hands are abnormally long, with a large number of rings. On the back there is a birthmark in the form of a cross. Wears nothing on his feet

(detailed reference in development)

Name: Mettaton

Race: monster

Place of residence: Hotland, Labaratoria

Soul: white, with a faint blue light (patience)

Appearance: not designed

Name: Alphys

Race: monster

Place of residence: Loboratorium, Waterfalls

Soul: white, with a green light inside (kindness)

Appearance: a small lizard-like monster with a height of 163 centimeters. It is a white-colored leopard of Diablo Blanco with red eyes. Alphys has a mutation, due to which soft needle-like outgrowths go from her head to the coccyx, along the spine, from large to small. She has a rather neat and "juicy" figure, hidden under a voluminous black dress and lab coat.

(detailed reference in development)

World locations

Locations are still divided into:

Ruin

Snowland

Waterfall (Waterfalls)

Hotland

Laboratory

New house

Added to them:

New Los Angeles (part of the human world)

Summit Abbott

Lost city (part of the dungeon)

Ruin

The structure of the corridors is almost the same, the traps are removed as unnecessary, one room has been added. The walls resemble brick in color. The room where you can buy Muffet donuts in the game canon now houses a small Muffet art gallery, there is also a table with muffins and tea.

(The spiders offer to buy paintings for a fairly large sum, but when you buy you will be offered muffins and given the painting. When she meets Muffet, she will thank you for your purchase and invite you for tea.) The walls are in ruins in cracks, through which Flowey vines sprout. The ceiling is covered with vines, and there are many fallen leaves on the ground. The paths are paved with stone that has aged over time. The conservation room is in a much better condition, instead of signs with inscriptions, stained glass windows with the symbol of the royal family (Magnolia). In the middle of the hall there is a huge tree up to the ceiling, large branches of which have grown all over the ceiling, and thin branches, like those of a birch, hang down. The leaves are scarlet. At the edges of the room there are bunches of Flowey vines that bloom profusely. There is still a save star between the steps to the exit. Instead of a pile of leaves, there is a small music bench. On the two side walls there are three columns, on which notes are written in a spiral. There is a small vine wall next to Toriel's house. If you move the vine aside, you can see a secret room, dotted with a field of bright blue flowers. There is a tombstone at the wall opposite the entrance. It reads "Chara Dreammoor. Beautiful daughter and best sister. 2040-2067"

The Ruins is home to many small monsters. Froggits and many others, they do not change their appearance. In the Ruins, Frisk still meets with Nabstablook. This is a small ghost of a slightly blue hue, with pink eyes. He reacts to Frisk in a very frightened way. After a little dialogue about who he is, the ghost dissolves with a bell ringing.

Snowland

The difference in appearance is created only by the large number of frozen trees and large flowers, sometimes even higher than the houses. The main square is hung with Chinese lanterns attached to houses and fir trees in the main square. The square is the brightest street in Snowland . On the outskirts of the city there is a bright casino "Golden lake", next to it is a hotel with the same name. Grilby owns both his Grilby Bar and the Golden Lake Hotel and Casino.

Minor Characters:

Grilby's appearance:

The appearance of his daughter, Fuku Fire:

Fuku and Grilby are ancient monsters and are quite powerful. Fuku helps his father at the casino.

Waterfall

There are many tall shrubs and Echo Flowers in the Falls. The corridors are not very different. There are many crystals on the "ceiling", creating the appearance of the stars. There are many reservoirs with water lilies and waterfalls. There is a pier near the mill where you can meet the Boatman or the Monster. Undyne's house is two-story, with a circular roof. There is a small field of echo colors next to it.

Minor characters:

Boatman:

a tall monster in a long black robe with a hood. He has abnormally long arms and a stooped back. His face has never been seen, it is hidden behind a mask of an animal's skull. Branched horns stick out from the head, and the pupils, glowing white from under the eye sockets, always look inquisitively. Many monsters call him the Wendigo, a man-eater who hunts for human sins. Who knows, maybe he is ...

Monster Kid:

a small lizard-like monster with yellow-red scales, wearing a large brown sweater.

Hotland

Not fundamentally altered. There are a lot of Flowey vines on the platforms, in some places, the most dangerous, she created dense railings and handrails. Hotland is almost empty. High temperatures do their trick and it is very difficult to be there.

Laboratory

The laboratory is in much better condition. The laboratory is bright, clean, fully equipped with everything Alphys needs for experiments. Amalgamates look like Siamese monsters. Bodies have a denser structure, when asked about their state of mergers, they vaguely answer about good health and they have all the conditions for a comfortable existence.

New House

The corridors have not been modified. The windows of the houses glow, the panoramic view of the castle seems to be brighter.

Many small monsters live in the New House.

Summit Abbot

Overgrown with plants and grass, rather dark, filled with a large number of stones, it offers a view of the now far from sunny Los Angeles, in which it rains almost all the time.

New Los-Angeles

Frisk's house and the location that the monsters will enter after liberation. Los Angeles is divided into two parts: New and Old. Old Los Angeles resembles the architecture of the 20th of the 21st century, it is considered a poor area. New Los Angeles is a high-tech neighborhood with skyscrapers and flying cars. A huge number of people live in it, who are far from all happy with the release of monsters.

Lost city

The story is told on behalf of the shocked Frisk, who accidentally found this place.

"When Asriel and I got there, the first thing we saw was a large number of cages. It seemed to me cages at first glance, only several hundred times larger than a normal bird cage and made of stone. Some were suspended from above, others from below ... Many more stairs! They connected almost every building!

There is almost no land, all these cells. And, if there is land somewhere, it seems to be suspended on huge chains from the nearest walls. And, which seemed strange to me, it was light there, although I did not see a single source of illumination, it was very windy there ... But, perhaps, we made this wind by opening the passage. Oh, there were still ribbons! Or not ribbons ... As if scraps of something, there were a lot of them ... There ... There was also something like a mosaic with a legend signed under it ... I didn't make out much ... It was looks like Latin ... But ... With some other dialect ... If not for my panic that neither I nor Asriel know this place, I would have been able to try to make out and translate at least something through associations ... "