#becoming my own bunnings snag

[fanaticsnail]

Chapter 8

Masterlist Here, Moodboard Here

Sapsorrow Masterlist

Word Count: 10,700+

"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it" Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.

Starlight

(Image Source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/462322717990096069/)

Tag List: @maybe-a-bi-witch @fuzzyfestcat @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @be-good-please @little-bunnybabe @sukilovesyou @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @hungrhay @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired @sexc-snail @alphaash99 @mfreedomstuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrs-wolfwood @jaguarthecat @marsbars09 @vespidphoenix @cinnbar-bun

Notes: Thank you to @i-am-vita for her banner! Oh, boy. This is a big chapter. Next chapter will be MDNI, 18+. Thank you for your patience with me working at this. Two more chapters to go!

Song Suggestions: Young and Beautiful - Je suis Parte & Por Una Cabeza - Carlos Gardel

The ship swayed over the cloudy swell of darkened waves, shepherding the vessel away from the Kuraigana port and to a location your captain deemed appropriate for a newlywed bride to be hidden away from her husband. 

Captain Buggy D Clown was not one to shy away from anything, especially not when something as interesting as causing drama and theatrics at the expense of Lord Dracule Mihawk was present. He was eager to present this challenge, whether you or Mihawk were also eager was a completely different tale entirely. 

Within the Captain’s quarters aboard the Big-Top, you struggled with the back of your dress: uncinching the rigging your ward managed to tie for you to keep your body contained within its material. A huffed and agitated smile awoke on your face, picturing this struggle in comparison to the one to come after your starlight ensemble. If the moon was as difficult to rid from your body, you could not imagine how taxing the sun would be over your skin and concealing you from your husband.

Husband. You have a husband now. A husband that would be more than agitated to know you were now out to open seas and venturing to unknown horizons, away from the celebration he carefully curated for you. 

“-Everything alright in here, Starlight?” the nasally crack of Buggy’s voice cut through the wooden door, “‘Ya need help?” You chuckled darkly, attempting to pry the material from you to no avail. 

“Actually, Captain,” your voice held a frantic wave within its tone, “I think I do. The back is snagged, and I can’t get the damn thing off of me.” The door slowly creaked open, after a gentle rap alerted you he was to do so. You turned yourself away to conceal your exasperation from him, the stutter in your hands giving away your agitation as you continued to fumble over the ribbons at the rear of your dress.

“Do you trust me, Doll?” you heard his voice alarmingly close to your body, enough to cause a hitch in your throat. You glanced over your shoulder, witnessing Buggy’s teal eyes glancing up through his eyelashes and lips parting in concern. 

“Considering you have robbed me of my wedding night with my beau,” your warning tone cut through the air as swift as a guillotine, “Spirited me away from the unity celebrations, and-,” you huffed, turning back around and glaring out of the bay window, “Confined me to spend this time alone and isolated from all those I hold most dear: I hardly deem you worthy of my trust presently, Captain.” 

Buggy’s gasp was melodical and pitched up two octaves higher than his usual cadence. You could feel the waves of anxiety rising within his shoulders and expressed through several strangled breaths. 

“I-I’m sorry, Lady Dracule. I didn’t think of it from your perspective and how my actions would-.” Whatever else Captain Buggy D Clown spoke after the first four words meant very little to you. Your mind looped them repetitively, the call and roll of the words felt both surreal and magical, you could hardly think about anything else. 

“-Would’ve rather stayed on shore, it would be less flashy and make the chase all the less desperate. We could turn back if-,” Buggy’s words halted as he glanced back into your eyes, noticing the distant expression with a melancholy sorrow eclipsing your painted features. “...-Are you alright, my Lady Dracule?” he asked you.

“Lady Dracule,” you repeated, your brows forming a pillar at the center of your forehead and causing a small swell to mist your eyes, “I’m Lady Dracule, now.” Buggy took a moment to glance over your features, noticing this shift of emotion permeating through your stance. 

Apprehensively, he reached his hand forward and gently caressed your shoulder. The gentle squeeze broke you out of your circulating mind, looking down and meeting the eyes of the cerulean-haired captain. 

“Can I help you out of this dress and into the assortment I crafted for you, my lady?” Buggy asked softly, watching as you nodded in affirmation for his fingers to set to work. 

“I’ll get this off in just a minute,” he whispered, his index fingers hooking through the loops in your back and slowly releasing the garment’s hold over your body, “And then we can think about your hair, and retouch your makeup. I’ll get Cabaji to bring us a bottle of the wine we swiped from the reception, too.” 

You allowed a soft giggle to fall from your parted lips, the relief from being rid of the tightness of your dress while knowing you were in capable hands. As Buggy’s fingers aided you in being free from your garment, while respectfully aiding you into the new dress, your mind wandered to your husband and what he was doing in this moment. Did he notice your departure, or was he enjoying your joint celebrations in solitude? 

-

“Where,” Mihawk’s yellow eyes glared accusingly around the guests through narrowed lenses, “Is,” he advanced, Yoru drawn with the pointed tip threatening the jugular of the Captain of the Red-Force, “My wife.” 

Lord Dracule Mihawk, distracted momentarily by his guests and acquaintances upon exiting the ceremony space, sought out your hand to claim within his. He blindly reached beside him, outstretching his desperate hands to shepherd you to his side, his fingers brushing nothing but air in its wake. 

He noticed your absence immediately.  

“Easy now, mate,” Shanks raised his arms, noticing several members of his crew withdrew their concealed weaponry and aimed it at the enraged former warlord, “Easy, easy. She’s safe, I swear this to you.” 

“Where is she?” Mihawk spat, his feet sliding into an assaulting stance, interweaving his body to draw closer to the red-head’s teasing face, “What have you done with her?” 

“She’s with Buggy- Oi, relax,” Mihawk’s pupils narrowed, his eyes wide and wild at the knowledge departing from Shanks’ lips, “She’s safe, it’s all a part of appeasing the tradition.” Shanks attempted to soothe over the growing temper Mihawk was steadily elevating, gesturing for his crew to holster their weaponry. 

“What tradition?” Mihawk barked, pressing the sharpened tip of Yoru deeper into Shanks’ neck, not quite puncturing the skin. 

“We just wanted it to be perfect, Hawk-Eyes,” Shanks’ hazelnut eyes bore with no utterance of mistruth within his orbs, “And you’re a native to Kuraigana, born and raised here. This is us following your traditions to the absolute letter: crossed ‘t’s and dotted ‘i’s, mate.” 

“Y-You’ve,” Mihawk stumbled over his words, darting his frantic eyes between Shanks’, “You’ve kidnapped my bride?” 

“You want the map to her, Lord Mihawk?” the rational voice of Shanks’ first mate rumbled through the tense air, “I had the clown make one up, for all our sakes.” Mihawk snapped his eyes away from Shanks’ to bear into the soul of Benn Beckman. As their eyes met, Beckman fished out the tanned envelope and offered it out gruffly towards the broody and aggravated newlywed groom. 

“And, are you all to just sit here and wait until I bring back my bride?” He barked at the Red-Hair crew, “Or are you coming to witness me suffer through this act of degrading humiliation?” Mihawk growled, eagerly searching through the crowd to see any contenders to refute his beckoning challenge. 

“You should take your wards,” Shanks suggested, weaving his body away from the steely tip of Yoru’s point, “Your two witnesses to view your wooing.”

Zoro leant down into Perona’s ear, his brow knit with puzzlement and concern. 

“I don’t follow, what is going on? Where’s our governess now?” Zoro quietly grunted into Perona’s ear, a giggle arising with her retort.

“Are you truly not following, or are you just saying that to be an imbecile?” Perona smirked, glancing up into Zoro’s serious eyes, “O-Oh, you’re serious? Okay!” Zoro patiently awaited his promised explanation, Perona thinking of the simplified version of this complex tradition to relay to him.

“In Kuraigana culture, the bride is either stolen or whisked away at a point in the evening - generally after the reception feast so the food doesn’t get cold. It looks like it’ll be a while yet before we get something to eat-,” Perona’s train of thought was broken with a growl from the green-haired apprentice.

“-Get on with it, Perona,” Zoro’s voice cut through the air gruffly, his eyes darting the surroundings for a clue of his governess’ whereabouts. 

“Oh, alright. Sorry, Zoro,” Perona giggled, shaking her head and preparing her words to present once again, “The bride is then hunted by the groom and they share a moment where he must perform a task or a demonstration of artistic skill to woo and entertain his new bride. Considering she is no longer under the shroud of her own family name, but a whole new person in this case: Lady Dracule, he must win her heart under this new banner and usher her into her new life with him.” 

“So, what? Is he gonna dance or something?” Zoro asked, puzzled and taken aback by the absurdity of the tradition, “Or is he gonna challenge her to a sword fight? What can he do that would woo her?” 

“Zoro-...” Perona again giggled, shaking her head with a warm smile drawing her cheeks up beneath its radiance, “...-Mihawk sings.” 

“Mihawk sings?” Zoro snapped his eyes over to Dracule Mihawk, watching as the lord of Kuraigana’s lips curled into a sinister snarl and brows furrowed deeper into rage. 

“Two witnesses, no more,” Mihawk growled, placing the mighty blade upon his back and rolling his neck, “And we shall return within the hour.” 

“Only if she’ll have you, mate,” Shanks’ grin playfully split his face, “You have to woo her. Humble yourself before her. This is your opportunity to actively pursue her,” the redhead stepped forward, clapping his right hand over Mihawk’s left shoulder. 

“You never got the chance. Use this time to show her how much you want her, and then,” Shanks’ grin turned sly, glancing at Beckman who shook his head and fished out a cigarette from his breast pocket, “That’s when we can show you how radiant she is, all wrapped in sunlight.”

Mihawk’s rumbled growl cut through the air, turning on his boot heels and gesturing to Perona and Zoro with his index finger, “You two, with me. Let us depart and reclaim my bride.” 

“Aye, sir,” Perona and Zoro spoke in unison, immediately springing into action and readying themselves for a short journey to find, woo and claim you with your title as Lady Dracule. 

Mihawk’s fuming rage catapulted him into a near frenzy, working with haste to unroll the sails and weigh anchor, using the tide to carry his small ship and snarling at the crudely crafted map.

“This better be accurate for your sake, clown,” Dracule Mihawk spat, scrunching the map and thrusting it into his shirt pocket with his left hand. Upon withdrawing his hand from his pocket, he hovered it above his face, staring at how delicately the band of unity was glimmering under the light of dusk.

It felt balanced, as if this broad band was awaiting the day he would finally wield it atop his finger. As if his life was waiting for this moment to start, for this new role and purpose for his life to fulfill. He hardened his resolve, throwing off his outer coat and withdrawing his sleeves to his elbows. He will find you, and find you quickly. 

And when he does, he will woo you. 

-

If the moon-dress was the prelude to a masterpiece in composition, this dress would be a symphony to stand the test of time. Material as pastel as the celestial rocks littering the night sky sporadically danced across the midnight material depicting the sky at nightfall. In the dim light within the cave Buggy had chaperoned you into, the dress almost looked as if it was producing its own light. 

“This is the most extravagant thing I have ever done with my life,” Buggy huffed a chuckle through his comment, “And that’s truly saying something, my lady. I’ve never done anything like this, and I’m almost jealous that I won’t be the one wearing it.”

“You’re more than welcome to borrow it for a performance, Captain,” you giggled, looking down at your arms that had been ornately decorated with chained droplets of beaded glass, “It is simply breathtaking.”

Glancing over at yourself in the reflective walls of the cave you had found yourself in, your hair was now softly falling in waterfalls against your back and your makeup retouched by the clown and his enthusiastic crew. You could hardly recognise the woman gazing back at you. 

“As breathtaking as you are, my lady,” Buggy whispered while adjusting your hair over your shoulders, “And hopefully enough to get me back into your good graces?” He shifted his eyebrow upwards, glancing hopefully over your shoulder with widened eyes and fluttering eyelashes. 

“You’re not out of the thick of it yet, dear captain,” you playfully taunted him, nose scrunched and smile growing, “It’s not only I you need to appease.” 

As if on queue, a small commotion was occurring outside the cave. Elevated voices, a shuffling of feet and the clang of harsh metal meeting rock reverberated within the cave mouth: silence following such an abrasive sound. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Buggy repeated hurriedly, excitement and anxiety dancing in a dangerous fight for dominion over his cadence, “You take a seat on your throne and look all pretty,” he gestured with his hands flailing outwards, “I’ll finish lighting the candles,and then I’m gonna flee as fast my legs can carry me to give you two some privacy.” 

You laughed at his excitement, turning and drawing up your heavy skirts to fan out atop the velvet-covered throne Buggy had placed down for you. Frantic clicks of flint and steel, a string of nasally curses, and a shifting of boot-heels tripping over themselves as Buggy set the final elements of his role in the ruse awaiting your spouse. 

“Okay, I’m gonna-... woah,” Buggy’s words halted as he turned to view you on your throne, sitting with the elegance and radiancy that you had drilled into your many students over your career as a governess.

“‘Woah’, what, Captain Buggy?” you huffed out a small laugh, watching his eyes shifting over each element of your ensemble. 

“Y-You know,” he stuttered, shifting his feet as if under the spell of hypnosis, “You’re not technically married if you haven’t consummated your union. You can always run away with me if you want to-.”

“Buggy,” you scolded him, your laughter now falling unwithheld from your lips, “For one: I am not cut out for a path of traveling piracy,” your smile continued to decorate your lips with its radiancy, “And two: I am in love with Dracule Mihawk, my husband.” That final confession shocked you, not admitting those words aloud to yourself or another before this very moment. 

“Right, right, of course,” he laughed at himself, studying his handiwork as your skirts pooled over your feet and down the slight elevation over the rocks. The voices within the mouth of the cave continued to draw ever nearer, the agitation and anger almost tangibly felt the closer they came. 

“This is where I take my leave, my lady,” he nervously chuckled, looking to the cave mouth with his lips split into a straight wincing line, “If I stay, the broody asshole will likely attempt to take my head and throw me into the sea.”

“In that case,” you smiled, bowing your head low to the clown, “This is where I thank you for the part you played in ensuring this day was a possibility.” Buggy gasped at your bow, taking a final moment to study you as you rose from your seated curtsey.

“You are so beautiful, my lady,” he whispered, bowing to you before turning on his heels and uttering a final sentence before picking up his sprint, “Congratulations on your successful ceremony. Save me a dance at your reception.”

Chuckling at his fleeing form, you were left in only a butterfly’s wing of solitude before three figures almost stampeded within the decorated hollow of the cave. Each of them halted, eyes wide and jaws slack as they took in their surroundings. 

The ground was littered with candelabras, all lengthy wicks lit. Lighting a pathway towards the throne, tealights scattered the floor beside a long stretch of the softest white carpet. Upon the edge of the carpet, the material of your skirts pooled and the unnatural light of several stones attached to the hem illuminated the floor. Dark material shifts into soft lights at each subtle movement from your body, the stones on your arms providing a small ringing melody as you offer them a small, coy wave.  

Perona’s smile rose on her cheeks, recovering the fastest of the three as she offered you a similar wave in return for your own. Zoro snapped his lips shut, smirking as he glanced between you and your beau who continued to be stupefied beneath this new radiant presentation. 

“I have found you,” Mihawk whispered after taking a small moment to recover, “My bride, my beloved.” You smiled wider, taking a moment to study your husband as he began taking small and intentional steps towards you. 

Perona hastily and quietly ushered Zoro over to the side, taking a seat on a large boulder and tapping the surface beside her in a gesture for Zoro to sit beside her. Without removing his eyes from the scene unfolding before him, he quickly sat on the stone and awaited Mihawk’s every chosen moment. 

Electing to remain silent, you watched and hung onto every movement, utterance and breath produced as he continued on towards you. Before he fell within your proximity, he halted and inhaled a shaken breath as he humbly knelt with both knees on the floor, his hands laced and placed within his lap. Your breath hitched, eyes darted between his honey-coloured eyes which then immediately snapped shut. 

He deeply inhaled a breath, his eyes remaining closed as he focussed on his movements. He lilted a rumbled hum, a tune unfamiliar to you produced from his nose and serenading you with its melody. Mihawk was singing, and he was singing for you. 

“Never I’ve known love like this,

As vibrant as the seas.

I’ll sheathe my blade, and disarm my shield,

For a chance just to please.”

His eyes remained shut, lips almost cautiously relaying the lyrics as he produced them. After the small verse produced, his words waved more confidently through his lips and enunciated each spoken lyric. 

Perona attempted to silence her elation by slapping her hand over her lips, her other hand finding Zoro’s knee and giving it a firm squeeze to express her excitement physically. Zoro was not faring much better, his own shock written on his face he could barely notice Perona’s hand on his knee as he gripped his thighs to stifle his surprise at Mihawk’s skillful melody. 

“The way your lips summon me,

The way your eyes hold promise,

May your bed never be empty,

Should dawn be upon us.”

Mihawk’s eyes opened, his breath hitching as he witnessed the longing gaze you were offering to him. Your eyes swelled with emotions, lips parting and drawing up in a melancholy smile. Mihawk offered you a small, bashful smile as he continued to sing to you. 

Your eyes never left Mihawk for a minute, watching as he knit his brows together and continued to utter promises through melody towards you.

“I will share my days with you,

For this to you I swear.

Nightfall I be by your side,

For it’s not yours alone to bear.”

He rose his knee from his kneeling into a lunge, bowing his head down and removing his hat from his head. A final promise uttered lyrically from within his skilled melody, you holding onto each word. 

“The seas and sword were my first love,

The training alone be vast.

Although you were not my first to love,

May we both be each's last.”

Mihawk sucked in a baited breath, awaiting a small reprimand or disciplinary comment regarding his abilities. He was no singer nor composer, the lyrics produced alongside the melody were spur of the moment. His skills were of the sword, not of poetry and lyricism. 

“Do my words and melody please you?” Mihawk whispered, his eyes holding firm to the floor as his dark curls bobbed to a lower bow, “Will you allow me the luxury of my heart, my body and my soul joining with yours, Lady Dracule?”

He elevated his head, his eyes softening and rapidly blinking to stifle the rising beat of his heart as he remained in his humility. A man such as he was not accustomed to humbling himself before anyone, doing precisely as he pleased and when he pleased to do it. With you, this was uncharted and untested waters. He was in love, and would spend the rest of his days romancing you should you ask it of him. 

Truthfully, he was prepared to offer his adoration, praises and romance to you at all hours whether you asked it of him or not. 

“You may have me, I am yours,” you answered him after several moments of pregnant pause, rising to your feet and offering him your right hand to take with his left, “Just as you are mine.” Mihawk released a breath he did not know he was withholding from his chest, the weight rolling off his shoulders and having him relax beneath your admission. 

He took this moment to study your carefully painted lashes, noticing the subtle hints in tints and hues decorating your skin at the hands of the genius jester. The stars were reflected in your eyes, the pigments complimenting the change in darkened material pooling over your dress. 

“C-Can I,” he fell over his words, closing his eyes and mentally scolding himself for his stumble, “Can I kiss you, my lady?” A small squeak from the corner of the room had you both break from your illusion that this corner of reality was not yours alone to share. You also had two witnesses. 

Mihawk snapped his eyes over to the two words sitting happily on the boulder beside the decorated floor, scolding them with a single pointed look. At his momentary shift of focus, you used the opportunity to rise from your sitting position on the throne Buggy sourced for you and stooped down to collect Mihawk’s chin between your index finger and thumb. 

You shifted his face back, witnessing the momentary shock as he gazed into your eyes. With a soft smile, you lowered your face and collected his lips with your own. Although he was kneeling, Mihawk was a tall individual. This position did not have your neck aching at its stoop, but was comfortable as you slowly pressed more of yourself against the former warlord. 

Mihawk wrapped his arms around your waist, bunching the fabric within his hands and holding you firmly pressed against him. He parted his lips, his tongue darting out to dampen your bottom lip as he squeezed your hips within his wide fingers. You hummed against his lips, your fingers raking over his beard to entangle within his curled locks. He smiled into the kiss, rising from the floor and fully bracing himself against you with his forearms circling your waist. 

The ruffles of the skirts below you illuminated several of the rocks littering the material, a gasp fleeing from Perona the longer she stared at the balled objects adoring the fabric.

“The rocks light up when they move!” she hushed her whisper to Zoro who waved his hand to silence her as he witnessed the loving embrace between his lord and lady. Although Zoro would never admit it aloud, he was enjoying every minute of witnessing such joy between two people he held most dear. 

Breaking from the kiss, your eyes half lidded as they gazed up at your husband. His expression mirrored your own, gazing lovingly down at you with a soft smile gently creasing the corners of his eyes. 

“Let’s go home,” Mihawk whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead and hovering his lips over your skin as he cradled your head against his chest, “I hope Shanks and his crew have left as some wine.”

“I’m more concerned about the food,” you giggled, prompting Mihawk to break away from your forehead and smooth his hands over your hair, “All I’ve had to eat and drink today is that single piece of honeycomb, a glass of wine for breakfast, that small sip of unity wine shared with you, and a glass of wine with the clown when he prepared me in this ensemble.” His eyes widened, looking into your smiling face in shock. You laughed up at him, raising your hand up to caress his cheek.

“You’ve only had wine and honeycomb for the whole day, my beloved?” his tone held a small air of caution within.

“Yes, my heart,” you huffed out a small sigh of laughter at witnessing his agitation. Although his anger never left, the small twitch of his lip and hitch in his breath indicated his pleasure of receiving such a high honor of that title. 

“Well that will simply not do,” he growled, shifting you in his grip to slip his arm around your waist and usher you through the cave mouth, “I have some sourdough and salted butter on the ship. We’ll break into that before we partake in the reception feast.” You smiled up at your husband, watching as he wordlessly gestured for your two wards to follow behind you. 

Where Perona could not stop staring at your dress, the only thing within Zoro’s focus was how you looked up at Mihawk, and how Mihawk looked down at you. The love you held for each other within that expression alone had a pang sound within his heart, and caused soft doubts to shift his perspective. 

Whether spoken aloud to you or not, Zoro’s quest in becoming the world's greatest swordsman would one day rip this fresh union apart. He would kill Mihawk to claim that title, and that would surely mean the destruction of your happiness.

As you made your way through the sandy coast and onto Mihawk’s vessel, Zoro continued to seek out different ways to achieve his goals and leave you both to thrive in your happiness. 

-

From the peaceful drift into the Kuraigana port, to the reunification with your guests, Mihawk would not allow you a moment to break away from him. Hollars and cheers at your arrival were quickly silenced as they took in the next aspect of your ensemble. 

Now exposed under the light of the moon, at each small movement of your legs beneath the dark skirt, the illumination of bioluminescent rocks shook and roared to life. The fanning material danced at your feet, the weight of the many layers of broad skirts heavy upon each footstep. You truly appreciated Mihawk’s presence at your side to enable you to lean against him for support each time the gown pulled at your waist and hips.

Your bodice was encrusted with similar trails of glassy stones, the overlaying chains from your neck to your waist forming the unity of constellations between both yours and Mihawk’s birth signs. Buggy had put an excessive amount of thought into such a piece, pooling all his knowledge to provide you the best reiteration of starlight he could truly muster. 

The outdoor reception space was littered with soft strings of light, a circular wooden floor elevated a step up as a makeshift dance area. Several clusters of seats were available off to the sides of the wooden floor they were standing on, where a small quartet of musicians lay off to the side of the area and softly painting the air with their melodical portraiture. 

Mihawk paid his guests little mind, other than a curt nod or a subtle smile to your former students. The many staff continued to present platters of bite-sized ensembles, each small taste of food attuned to both yours and Mihawk’s refined palates. Each time a tray was presented to you, you would break your conversation away from your guests and thank the staff with a warm smile on your face.

As he showcased you to his guests, he watched as the fatigue of the day was slowly catching up with you. The little stumble of your feet under the weight of the dress, the small waver in your smile when you assumed none were watching, the way you clung to his side: he was observant of your every moment and there at your side to catch you should you fall. He was yours to do with what you will, clay awaiting molding into the husband you desired him to be. 

Music began to play at a more elevated volume, the guests encouraging you with a soft cheer to get you to open the dance floor together. Mihawk looked subtly off to you, noticing you were struggling beneath the layers of your skirts. No matter how vast your training in becoming a debutant yourself, nothing could have prepared you to carry the amount of weight from rocks of various shapes and sizes. 

“Beloved, are you-,” Mihawk began, his short question being stolen from him by the nasally interruption of Captain Buggy D Clown. 

“-If I may, my lady Dracule,” Buggy’s broad, painted smile laid brilliantly over his lips, “I have a small surprise for you.” 

“Oh?” you asked, brows elevating up your forehead in curiosity. 

“Your resume presented to the world government several years back indicated you were an excellent dancer, trained the best of them attending here today, in fact,” he complimented you bowing in a low and crouched stoop.

“I am a competent dancer, yes,” you admitted, eyeing him curiously as he picked at your hem with his gloveless fingers, “And I do enjoy the movement when the moment is called upon.” 

“Then it would be such a shame should the moment be taken from you under the weight of this dress, my lady,” Buggy smirked up at you, a silver object playfully juggling between his fingertips. Before you realized what the object was, Buggy precautioned both you and Mihawk, “Bird-Boy, stand back. My lady, close your eyes and hold your breath.” 

Immediately doing what you were told, you heard the ignition of a flint-lighter and the warm flash of open flame illuminating your eyelids to a deep crimson color. Gasps and screams from your guests informed you of all you needed to comprehend at this moment.

Captain Buggy D Clown had lit your dress on fire. 

A wild rush of heat expanded over the base of your skirt, the tongues of blaze lapping at your skin and immediately cooled with bursts of icey air. As you felt the rising warmth begin to die down, you opened your eyes to witness the small, illuminant rocks burst and break to soothe over the licks of flame. Upon each burst of impact, the color of your dress would change to a crisp white, to a warm blue, down to a dark hue of red, all the way to a dim purple. 

At the last burst of rock sparking and spurting over the gown, the arrangement that remained was a softer, pale dress that halted just below your knees. The slit from the hem on your left side tastefully elevated to just below the angle your thigh met at the curvature of your hips. The dress fanned out, dipping in at your waist and cinching in your bust. There were no remaining rocks nor combustive fabric on your body, much to your delight. 

After you adjusted to your new weight distribution, feeling lighter and more energetic already, the picture you were left with standing before you was Buggy’s throat being impaled on the smaller blade formerly hung around your husband’s neck. Your eyes widened and your body moved faster than your mind did to halt the scene unfolding before you. 

“First you kidnap my wife, now you light her on fire?” Mihawk barked, slashing at his throat while Buggy stuttered over his words, “It seems as if you are trying so desperately to get me to kill you, Clown. I should have you flogged and cast into the seas for your idiocy-.”

“-My heart, I am unharmed,” your voice broke him away from his heavy threats, his hands immediately withdrawing from the clown to cradle your cheeks within his palms. You kept your face calm, reassuring him with your expression alone that you remained unaltered and unharmed. 

He floated his eyes between yours, briefly dipping to your lips before withdrawing back up to your eyes. You nodded within his hands in an act to reassure him further, your smile never faltering. After a hushed moment’s pause, Mihawk could no longer contain himself.

Hastily, he dipped his face down, lips colliding with yours and drawing several cheers from your guests. He hungrily consumed your lips, molding and shaping them beneath his with the desperation you were yet to see its equal. He swooped his hands behind your head, collecting the soft waves Buggy had created for you in fistfuls as he desperately joined his lips with yours. You slowly raked your hands over his waist, holding him close and reassuring him with soft circles against his body with your thumbs. 

Squeaking against his lips at a small tug of your hair, Mihawk immediately loosened his aggressive grasping of your against you, and softly traced his fingertips over your jaw and set to cradle the scruff of your neck. The world faded from existence the longer Mihawk held you against his lips, folding himself against you and holding you in momentary blissful stasis. 

Withdrawing his lips from yours, he gazed into your eyes while briefly panting to catch his breath. Shock eclipsed your features the exact moment you broke away, the cheers from your guests ignited the silence within the ringing of your ears. 

“That was a good ‘en, Hawkie!” Shanks swayed in his speech as he slurred in his stupor, “Do it again!” 

“Quiet down, Captain,” Beckman grunted, gently clapping Shanks on the shoulder, “That’s our exterminator you’re talking about. She deserves a little more respect than you’re offering the both of them presently.” 

“Right, right. I’ll switch to water for a bit, Becks,” Shanks nodded, looking over at his crew and gesturing to the water barrels with his tankard. Mihawk never strayed his eyes from your features, constantly ensuring you were unharmed from the prior blaze. 

“May I dance with you, my beloved?” Mihawk quietly offered, removing his hand from your neck and apprehensively outstretching his hands to you. You smiled at his soft gesture, immediately placing your right hand within his left and allowed him to chaperone you onto the dance floor. 

At the swell of music, you hastily pressed your right hand against Mihawk’s left shoulder while he elevated your right hand to extend to the side. His left hand found the middle of your waist and pulled you against himself. 

You carefully extended your left knee over Mihawk’s leg, the slit withdrawing itself tastefully to reveal your thigh to your guests. At that gesture, Mihawk immediately readjusted his stance: shifting to claim the base of your thigh within his hands as he awaited the appropriate rhythm to dictate his momentum.

“The Clown read your resume,” Mihawk smirked down at you, beginning to shift and maneuver you effortlessly within his arms, “But alas, I have not.” He nudged you with his left hand, following his lead by twirling your body within his arms and releasing his hold over you. 

Both legs now firmly on the ground, you shifted your hips and began to rhythmically follow the melody rising with your feet. Holding your arms perpendicular to the ground, Mihawk collected your left hand and pressed a small kiss atop your wrist before raking his digits over your forearm. 

“You never read my resume before you hired me?” You called over your shoulder, as he raised your left hand to cradle his neck behind you. 

“Never,” Mihawk smiled, placing his right hand over your right and his left over your stomach. He began ushering you both with a rapid sway of his steps, a maneuver you flawlessly followed with each stride. He twirled you away, holding contact with your right arm before reclaiming it in his left hand. 

“Then,” your puzzled expression remained atop your features as you once again faced Mihawk, “Why was I hired here? What drew you to me?” Your beau’s smile elevated, his eyes cracking at the corners as his nose scrunched upwards.

“Truthfully, my beloved,” he confessed, leaning forwards to indicate for you to fall backwards in your steps, “I am not certain what drew me to you. A feeling, I suppose.”

“A feeling?” you elevated your eyebrow and smirked up at him, “Something as simple as a feeling?” 

Mihawk chuckled, twirling you away from him and catching your forearms within his grip, ushering your back to meet his chest. You huffed out a small exasperated breath, shaking your head and swaying with him to the rhythm.

“A feeling,” you repeated in a whisper, attempting to not allow your disdain from presenting too prominently against your features. Mihawk released your right arm, leaning forward and collecting your chin between his thumb and index finger. 

“Allow me the luxury of rephrasing, my beloved,” Mihawk whispered, drawing your forehead to press against his while he moved his body from behind yours to face you once more. 

Drawing up his left hand, he collected your right and his right hand found your back once more. His smile continued to highlight his face, a smile you had come to adore painted on his face beneath his mustache. 

“From the moment I met you all those years ago, I adored you as a skilled governess,” he confessed, stepping backwards while you followed with your forward step, “The way you managed a variety of individuals: debutants, gentlemen and all those in between. Even the witless marines-.”

“-Mihawk,” your warning tone was broken with a small laugh, your smirking reprimand forming a smile over your lips, “Be kind.”

“Apologies, my beloved,” he snickered out a small chuckle, ushering for you to step outwards before hooking you back into his arms, “I never assumed you would accept a job at such short notice in the first place.”

“I had a lull in my waiting list,” you shrugged, turning to face him with a broader smile on your face, “And the stuttering scribbles were intriguing.” Mihawk laughed at your reference to his original summons for you to begin your tutelage of the two wards under his care. 

As the melody swelled, he sighed out a breath, once again placing your forehead against his own and furrowing his brows. In a low whisper, he relayed his final confession to you. There was no room for humor, nor was there a place for the utterance of a lie within his breath. 

“Before there was a possibility of joining with you in matrimony, I simply thought: ‘that was that. Time to live my life as an unmarried swordsman until the next generation rises up to claim that title from me’,” he smiled, halting his movement as the music ended its swell,  “I never thought I would be training that aforementioned generation to take my life, nor did I imagine this twist of circumstances leading you to be within my arms now.” 

You smiled a melancholy smile, only half elevated on your face at his confession. Trailing your hand over his shoulder, you extended it up to collect his whiskered cheek within your palm, soothing over his bottom lip with your thumb. 

“And is this the life you wanted for yourself, Mihawk?” you whispered up at your beloved, searching his eyes for more truth within, “To live in momentary matrimonial peace before Zoro claims your title alongside your life?” 

“This is the life that I have forged for myself,” he whispered against your thumb, pressing a kiss against the padded tip, “And I will hold onto it with every breath I still use to sustain my lungs. I love you, my wife. I am yours, and you are mine, for as long as we both shall live,” he withdrew your hand from his lips and circled it over his neck, “And for whatever comes next.” 

“For whatever comes next,” you mirrored back with closed eyes and lips parted, “Sounds like an awfully exciting adventure, my heart.” Reopening your eyes, you witnessed the smile once again return to Mihawk’s lips. 

At the music’s end, he swooped down to claim another kiss from you. Applause rang through the air, prompting you to part from the oscillation as hastily as you had it begin. The Red-Hair pirate crew and the Buggy-Pirates had begun offering each other their outstretched hands to lead them onto the dance floor. 

You felt a small tap on your shoulder at the exact moment a soft, pale hand with pink-polished fingernails brushed with Mihawk’s own shoulder. You shook your head, confused as you were ushered into the awaiting arms and broad shoulders of Roronoa Zoro. 

His smile was shallow, his mind plagued behind it with the smog of heavy thoughts. Extending out his hand, you took it and curtseyed as he bowed with you. Ushering you to circle the floor with a practiced waltz, Zoro continued to twirl you in silence. 

“You have gotten much better, Zoro,” you complimented him, met with only a single hum in acknowledgement. You furrowed your brows, glancing between his bourbon-hued orbs while he refused to draw his gaze up to meet yours. 

“Did you enjoy the drinks? I have yet to sample the wine presented at the reception-,” you were cut off as Zoro’s thoughts spoke atop your own.

“-I am going to claim his life from him, do you understand?” he gruffly commented, glaring over at Perona and Mihawk as he spun her within his arms with a broad grin and her unwithheld smile mirroring in return, “I intend to kill lord Dracule Mihawk.” You almost stumbled in your dance, recovering quickly as he continued to twirl you. 

After taking a moment to collect your rapidly lashing thoughts, you inhaled a large gulp of breath and extended your exhale slowly through your lips.

“If that is what your destiny is leading you to fulfill,” you reached up your hand and collected his cheek, turning him to meet your eyes, “It is not for me to understand, nor is it my desire to halt you from achieving your goal.” He gasped at your words, stumbling over his feet and barely recovering.

“You won’t ask me not to?” Zoro’s breath hitched on his exhale, searching your eyes for any cause for further stumble, “You won’t plead for me to find a new goal? To settle for being second best and remain that way until we’re all cracked and graying?” 

Giggling at his comment, you extended your arm out and circled it over his head: twirling the conflicted man within your arms.

“I married the ‘World’s Greatest Swordsman’, Dear,” you noted, your smile never wavering as you rejoined him within your arms, “It is an occupational hazard.” 

Zoro’s surprise lingered on his features, his eyes misting over with the swell of emotions he did not prepare himself to express this night. 

“And between us-,” you leant up to his ear, using this opportunity to draw him into a warm and encumbering embrace, “-I would rather it be you. You are someone we both trust,” you withdrew him from your arms and smiled whimsically up at him, “Someone who will grant him the luxury of a swift and merciful departure from this life, should you both be ready to take that step.” 

Where you assumed he would grunt out a gruff groan, you were shocked when he leant further into your arms and circled his forearms around your waist. He nuzzled into your neck, his shoulders beginning to sink against the weight of his confliction. 

“You trust me?” he choked within his soft whisper, “You trust me to give him an honorable death?” His shoulders shuddered within your arms, you immediately drew your hands up to caress his moss-coloured locks. 

“Of course I trust you, Zoro. Just, if you were to grant me one simple favor,” he withdrew from your embrace, continuing to hold your waist as he stared down and awaited further instruction, “Please don’t kill him tonight?” Zoro’s laughter cut through the air, drawing many eyes over to your location as you joined him in his unbridled laughter. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lady,” he chuckled, briefly joining his forehead against your own and scrunching his nose with his smile. 

“Good boy,” you complimented him with a single tap on his shoulder, “And your dancing really has improved.” You nodded to his feet, noticing how effortlessly he was shepherding you throughout the movements.

“I learnt from the best, my lady,” he winked down at you, his golden drooped earrings glinting within the refraction of the lights. 

As the melody crescendoed from one song into the next, you twirled from within Zoro’s arms and immediately met your right hand against a cool piece of metal, curving beneath your fingertips. 

“If I may, my lady,” the cool rumble of Sir Crocodile reverberated within your chest and shot a tingle up your spine. Although no malice was withheld in his tone, the danger was always present with a man such as he. 

“Sir Crocodile,” you nodded, focussing your body on allowing him to lead you throughout the floor, “I would like to take the opportunity to thank you for your beautiful dress you crafted for me.” 

“I do plan on collecting that debt from the both of you, my lady,” he smirked down at you with a broad grin. His eyes held a bored malice within his purple orbs, hunching down to claim your body within his arms. The impressive height he towered over you had you feeling smaller within his grasp, an advantage you planned on gaining back from him with your wit. 

“And what would you ask of me, Sir?” you smiled up at him, twirling within his arms and circling your body around his back. You drew your fingers over his flesh, watching the visible shudder arising beneath the movement, “I am a simple governess-.”

“-You are Lady Dracule, now,” he retorted, gazing down at you through the corner of his eyes, “A lady who has sway and leverage over a lord. A lady who holds the heart of such a man as he, the ‘World’s Greatest Swordsman’. A lady who-.” You hastily pressed your fingers atop the golden hook, your eyes baring dangerously into his own.

“-Who was and forever will be-,” your low tone had Crocodile taken aback at your statement, “-A simple governess.” 

“And what would a simple governess be able to offer me?” his amused grin parted his lips and elevated his brows. The silvery mark over his cheeks and nose had the purple hues holding more danger within their orbs, “Music and dance lessons, I have hardly a use for.” 

“A governess who has done all a governess could do here,” you smiled up at him, leading him into a twirl, your spin prompting almost a laugh to fall from his lips, “Tamed and trained two unruly youths, along with having one of the world’s most powerful men fall to their knees and beg to claim me as their own.” 

The smirk of Sir Crocodile rose on his lips, his words beginning to form behind his teeth only to be halted by a final word of warning from you.

“Whenever you desire such a woman to perform such an impossible and improbable task as this,” you silenced him with your words, “You know where I will be.” 

At that, you bowed a low curtsey to him and attempted to flee from his arms, only for the hook to catch the crook of your elbow and tug you back into his arms for his final words.

“An expert tamer of unruly individuals,” he whispered in your ear, the ghost of his last cigar lingering on his lips as his breath met with the shell of your ear, “I shall keep you in mind for when such a purpose arises.” Unclasping your arm from within his hook, Sir Crocodile took his leave of you with a final bow. 

You shook off his words, the next partner finding themselves within your arms whipped their cerulean hair against your cheek as they spun you on your toes three times in a circle. 

“I truly am sorry about the kidnapping, my lady,” Buggy uttered with a warm smile, “And I am only partly apologetic for the glorious blaze.” Although you had met both Buggy and Sir Crocodile at the same time, you felt much more comfortable being wielded within his arms than the experience prior.

Buggy released you, clapped his hands three times and stomped his feet rhythmically to the music. You laughed, mirroring his posture and his rhythm back at him. His eyes widened, heart swelling at you matching his exaggerated movements and prompting him to produce some far more elaborate motions. 

He was a joy to dance with, his own starlight shining within his teal eyes and reflecting back onto his various assortment of formal attire. Although no longer wearing a frill-neck collar, his cravat had just as many ruffles fluffing at his jaw. 

“I am not sorry in the slightest for either,” you admitted, your own nod and spin on your toes keeping Buggy mirroring your movements first before stepping in again to claim you in his arms. 

“Not even the kidnapping?” he winced out a small apprehensive grin.

“No, it was an enjoyable experience,” you confessed, laughing in his arms as he assumed the waltz position and stepped in time to the swell of music, “I especially enjoyed the wine.”

“Then you have found the perfect match in Mihawk,” he nodded, scrunching up his nose at the thought, “Personally, I don’t know how you both drink that vinegary piss. I prefer the sweets to compliment and mask my saltiness. Rum is best.” 

“I thank you for your compliments, captain,” you smiled at him.

“About the vinegary piss?” his brows furrowed in confusion, his smile scrunching into a soft pout. You laughed at his comment, shaking your head at him.

“About the perfect match,” you confessed, feeling the end of the music calling to you. Buggy chuckled, offering you a small bow before dismissively waving his hand at you and uncharacteristically turning on his heel. 

You were puzzled at that final gesture, not understanding where such an expression was necessary before you felt a hand clasp around your waist.

“‘S not you, love,” the voice of a red-haired captain uttered beside you, “He still is hung up on our old childhood rivalry.” 

“Ah,” you gasped in understanding with a curt nod, turning in his arm to face him. Dancing with Shanks was an occurrence you were privy to experiencing from time to time aboard the Red-Force with his crew. His attitude was always playful and light with you, always a gentleman. 

“You truly look spectacular tonight, Vile Exterminator,” he complimented you, shifting his dancing position to usher you with his right hand in light of his missing left hand. Joining now both of your right hands, you both stepped in and out before twirling under his arm. 

“Thank you, Red-Haired Rat,” you smirked at him, feeling a pair of eyes watching you dance within Shanks’ arms. 

“I think the big man wants a word,” Shanks confirmed your suspicions, nodding over to his steel-haired first mate, extinguishing his cigarette with his boot heel against the gravel road beside the dancefloor. Shanks twirled you twice more before you were flung from his arm and into the awaiting and ill-practiced hands of Benn Beckman.

“Sorry, my lady,” he uttered, his legs awkwardly swaying him from side to side with you within his arms, “I’m no good at this formal dancin’. I don’t do this.” 

“I know, Benn,” you smiled at him with a soft, close-lipped grin, “But I do appreciate the effort.” He hummed with a curt cough in response, truly feeling out of place with this genre of dance. 

“About what’s to come,” he gruffly coughed, attempting to spin you on the dancefloor as easily as he could ask his body to perform such a skill, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You sighed out a small huff of breath, shaking your head at him as he continued to explain to you.

“There’s a lot of knots,” he confessed with a winced, grimacing smile, “I mean, a lot of knots.” 

“I trust you,” you shrugged, feeling his tension rising in his shoulders and stance. You halted the elaborate dance, ushering him off to the side of the dancefloor and opting to sway with him to the beat while he aired his concerns.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with the experience,” he confessed, the gray tint of his eyes holding you firmly within his vision, “Some of the knots are in-... -a few key places.” 

Your rapid and unwavering blink told Beckman all he needed to know regarding his apprehension. 

“It was my own fault for asking this in the first place, Benn,” you confessed again with a shrug, “And, I reiterate: I trust you. We’ve known each other for years, and of all those aboard the Red-Force,” you feigned a small hum of deep thought, before smiling up at the burly first-mate, “I do trust you the most.” 

“I hope your trust isn’t misguided, my lady,” he grunted, your left hand being claimed by a presence at your side. The small, almost invisible smile, from Beckman informed you that the Rat was once again at your side. 

“And, she’s mine again,” Shank’s playful tone cut in, peeling you away from Beckman and onto the dancefloor once more. He ushered you into a skilled twirl, your smile once again returning to your face as the swell of music reached the peak and began its crescendo towards the final. 

As Shanks made to draw you into another embrace at his chest, you felt the tug of your waist pull you back within familiar and comfortable arms. A warm smile and a flush rose to your cheeks, humming as you lent into his chest.

“Missed me, beloved?” the man behind you held an air of confidence, turning you within his arms as you looked up at him through half-hooded eyes.

“Always, my heart,” you retorted, elevating your arms to seek out the nape of his neck. He hummed at your confession, mirroring your adoration down at you, “Shall we have a rest? Enjoy some mead and begin the fire?”

“A fire?” the elated voice of the cerulean-haired clown-captain called out in joy, “We’re having a fire like the good old days?” Shanks hesitantly walked beside Buggy, offering him a small smile and confirming with him.

“Just like the old days,” Shanks nodded, looking between Buggy and Mihawk, “Back when Roger made us collect the wood, but wouldn’t let us near the flint and steel.” 

“And look who’s got the spark now, boys!” Buggy’s crackled cackle and his powerful stance prompted laughs to rise among the guests. Beckman shook his head, wordlessly directing the Red-Hair crew to begin building a fire for you and your husband to enjoy. 

You nuzzled into the warm and exposed chest of your husband, feeling the weight shift from you against him as he slightly elevated you off your feet. 

“I think sitting down is a good idea,” you confessed, looking down at your worn shoes and rapidly swelling feet from the elaborate dancing and carrying the weighty dress.

“Then that is what we will do, my beloved,” Mihawk smiled softly down at you, pressing his forehead against your own as he enjoyed the feeling of holding you in his arms once again.

-

Sitting within the arms of your husband, the crackle of the fire illuminated the guests that remained behind at the castle, some setting up bedrolls and pitching tents within the surroundings. 

Mihawk hooked his arm around your shoulder, drawing you against himself and pressing soft kisses against your temple while whispering sweet phrases and poetry within your ear. His beard tickled at each short utterance, prompting a giggle to fall from not only the words, but the feeling of his beard against your skin.

Shanks was the first to notice the small lull in atmosphere, a fiendish grin finding purchase against his lips as he refilled his tankard from the barrel of mead. 

“Alright, you lot. According to the customs of Kuraigana,” Shank’s stumbling and partially inebriated voice slurred, “We all know what comes next for you two. We’ve ‘gotta follow all of the traditions of the land. You know, so the ghostly hag is happy.”

“What are you implying, Red-Hair,” Mihawk’s prior warm tone cracked under its now icey exterior, “Surely you don’t mean-.”

“-Why the ‘Bedding Ceremony’ of course!” Shanks attempted to rise to his feet, stumbling backwards and momentarily sitting upon the lap of his first mate, who apprehensively caught him. “Thanks big man,” he mumbled, rising successfully to his feet and thrusting out his tankard, “You go up there with your Sunshine bride, and we wait out here and make as much noise as we can while you perform your husbandly duties.” 

A warm flush rose to your cheeks, littering your face with the warmth of blood swelling to the tips of your ears. You could feel the rapid pulse beating in your eardrums, your heart stampeding your racing mind of all thoughts of what was yet to come. 

“Then you come and rejoin us as one flesh,” Shanks concluded, saluting Mihawk with his broad tankard, “And we drink to the happy couple, and carry off our celebrations into the wee hours of the morn.”

“Is this truly a custom of this land, my heart?” you uttered quietly to the broody bearded man at your side, his attention snapping over towards you. His eyes softened as his heart swelled, lips parting while drawing up his right hand to caress your cheek.

“Unfortunately it is, my beloved,” he whispered with a half-smile, “And a custom we need not adhere to should you find discomfort in such a feat.” 

You allowed a small giggle to fall from your lips, leaning into Mihawk’s gentle caress and pressing a soft kiss on the heel of his palm.

“It could be worse,” you allowed the giggle to rise in volume as your smile broadened, “In Germa-Kingdom, the guests watch the act while they throw sugar-coated almonds at the newlyweds in the hopes it will aid in producing male offspring.” You placed your hand over Mihawk’s, his still holding your cheek as his smile mirrored your own. 

“I suppose this custom is not so bad, then,” Mihawk chuckled, rising to his feet and offering you out his hand, “Shall we, my beloved?”

“I suppose it is time,” you smiled in return, placing your hand within his and allowing him to hoist you up from your position on the log. Mihawk’s brows creased, mild agitation forming at the center of his forehead. Before you could ask him what was bothering him, he turned his head to Beckman: who was already rising to stand. 

The blush returned as your eyes widened, almost forgetting what you had requested of the cursed moss-agate ring on your unity finger. 

“Beckman,” Mihawk’s agitation growing in depth as the hoarse growl rumbled in his throat, “In light of the fact this is part of the covenant pact forged with the ring-.”

“-I would not lay a single finger unnecessarily on your wife, lord Mihawk,” Beckman’s whiskey voice hummed as he inhaled his cigarette to the filter end, “Would you prefer it be Shanks in his current stupor using his right hand and teeth?”

“Absolutely not,” Mihawk barked at the suggestion.

“Then I will make it quick and precise,” Beckman reassured him with a curt nod, “Follow up in twenty minutes, and your bride will be awaiting you to unwrap her within your marriage bed.” 

Beckman outstretched the crook of his elbow, a satchel containing what you presumed to be your sun-dress shrugged over his shoulder. You apprehensively withdrew your hand from Mihawk’s, giving him one more longing look before you allowed yourself to be ushered into the halls of Castle Kuraigana. 

You both walked in silence, unsure of what words needed to be spoken between you before you engaged in this next aspect of your night together. The silence was peaceful, the soft tranquility you had not experienced since beginning this venture of matrimony. You were almost thankful this moment was granted to you to share with one of your most respected acquaintances in your time as a governess. 

He chaperoned you into the halls, finding the door that led into the suite allocated to both you and Mihawk as the lord and lady of Kuraigana. In the wake of the soft tranquility, anxiety at the anticipation of what’s to come awoke within your chest. Your heart elevated its rhythmic thundering, your mind beginning to swirl and race as the anticipation only grew.

“Take a moment, my lady,” Beckman’s soothing voice hummed at you, “All the time you need, alright? It’s a lot of changes to adjust to, and I would never dream of rushing you.” 

“Thank you, Benn,” you exhaled, rolling your neck and attempting to stifle the rise in your anxious thoughts. After a few small breaths, you reopened your eyes and smiled to yourself as you felt finally ‘ready’ to begin this new chapter of your life. 

The door shut behind the first-mate of the Red-Hair pirates, you made your way behind the dressing screen. You silently thanked Buggy for ensuring this garment was easier for you to remove than the one prior, but anticipation rose in your chest as Beckman revealed a satchel to you. 

“This is going to be extremely difficult to do whilst blindfolded, my lady,” he gruffly chuckled, retrieving several golden strands of linked chains from within the canvas bag, “Are you certain this is adhering to the covenant you made with the aetherial pest?” 

“To quote my own words, Benn,” you shook your head and straightened your shoulders, “‘Sunlight: a dress that meets the intensity of the sun with its rays of gold and copper. An accumulation of material so outrageously forbidden, it be intended for your eyes alone with its purpose. A dress so scantily designed that you will find none to ever match its equal in both color and provocative appearance’.” Your voice mocked your own recollection, prompting Beckman to chuckle at your tone.

“Well then, there may be a small hiccup in our plan,” he shrugged, taking out a strip of lengthy material and beginning to fold it in half. Upon measuring the half-width, Beckman used his canine teeth to puncture the fabric and tear it into two, thick strips. 

“What do you mean, Benn?” your eyes followed his movements with both intrigue and curiosity.

“For his eyes alone,” he quoted back at you, chuckling as he handed you one of the strips, “Looks like I won’t be the only one experiencing sensory deprivation in this little encounter, my lady.” Taking the fabric from his outstretched hands, your brows knit together before the realization hit you. 

“You’ll have to wear a blindfold too.” 

[ikeprinces-stuff]

Event: Falling For Fall Hosted by: @violettduchess & @lorei-writes Prompt: Falling leaves & Harvest (Angst + Fluff) Previous prompt: Rain. Foraging. Moon. Gold. Gossamer. Cinnamon Characters: Sariel Noir & Luke Randolph & Prince OC [Vernard Mürrisch]

Words : 820 A/N: I spent time thinking about how to write different fanfictions for each one of them and my head ached... so I said why not mix the two prompts together and get it over with? By that I finished all the #Fallingforfallcc prompts yippee!!

[🥮𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐜̧𝐚𝐝𝐞🍁]

The fall feast was in full swing, the palace gardens ablaze with the colours of the season. Guests milled about, the long tables groaning under a bounty of harvest-themed delicacies: roasted squash, spiced apple cider, and intricate pastries crafted from the season's bounty. Yet, Prince Vernard stood apart, a solitary figure at the edge of the celebration, his usual melancholic air amplified by the festive cheer.

Then, Sariel glided up behind him, his presence as quiet as the falling leaves drifting to the ground. "Prince Vernard," he began, his voice a low, smooth hiss, "I must commend you on your diligence these past few weeks."

Vernard's response was a mere shrug, a dismissive gesture that belied the turmoil within. "I merely…existed," he muttered, his voice raspy, almost apologetic. He hadn't truly played a significant role in the recent events – accompanying Clavis and Chevalier to the border was a matter of duty, not impact; his involvement with Jin and Licht's inspections was trivial, reduced to playful interactions with children.

"You ensured Prince Nokto's timely return from his late-night escapade," Sariel continued, undeterred, "and you spared a great deal of trouble by preventing the usual morning chaos. Also, your assistance in helping Prince Yves select the sweets was… quite insightful. And, I daresay, it spared a few brawls between the other princes," he added with a hint of amusement, gesturing towards the lively scrum surrounding the dessert table where Jin, Leon, Licht, and Luke were battling over the last of the cinnamon buns crumble.

Vernard's lips curved into a cynical smirk. "My intervention with Nokto was simply a means to quell my own insomnia. A distraction, if you will." He spoke of the prince's midnight adventures with a detached cynicism, as if Nokto's time was merely a commodity he'd used to his advantage. "Yves," he continued, "forced me to taste his…creations. As if I could even perceive the sweetness in them. My tongue is numb to sugar, yet I cannot refuse him, you know." His voice was flat, a stark contrast to the warm tones of the fall day.

Sariel's perceptive gaze pierced through Vernard's facade. "And the party that Prince Leon hosted? Did you find it…enlightening?" Vernard's hand instinctively rose to scratch his disabled right ear, a tell-tale sign of evasion. Sariel didn't need a response. He knew the story. He subtly alluded to the incident that had poisoned the atmosphere for Vernard that night, the cruel jabs from nobles who despised him for his mother’s shameful past and his own desperate struggle to find a life outside the gilded cage of the court. The more he associated with the princes, the further he seemed to drift from his goal of escaping their world.

Sariel's voice grew firm, interrupting Vernard's silent, agonizing thoughts. "What you aspire to, Prince Vernard, may not be obtainable. The princes, particularly those closest to you, will not allow you to simply walk away. You have become a vital thread in the tapestry of this court and your absence would unravel far more than you might imagine. They rely on you."

And just like that, Sariel departed, leaving Vernard to the echoes of his own regrets and the weight of his uncertain future. The silence was shattered by a different voice, a hearty, almost boisterous one. Luke materialized beside him, holding aloft a piece of the very dessert that had caused such a commotion. "Managed to snag this one from the brutes," he announced, grinning. "Yves's work, ain't it? Said it was specially selected by you."

Luke, a giant of a young man with a heart of honey, continued, "Thanks for steer'in' me clear of Sariel's snooze-fest the other day. And for tippin' me off to that sweet bakery with the killer honey cakes. Man, were those things good."

Vernard, a flicker of warmth in his usually cold eyes, took the dessert with a slight struggle, and promptly ate it. "No problem, Luke," he muttered, his sigh echoing the bittersweet flavor of the fall season. But even as he chewed, the sweetness remained elusive, a pale imitation of the joy he could never quite grasp. "What was Sariel on about?" Luke questioned, his brow creasing.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Vernard responded, his voice a gentle shield for Luke.

"Right then. Well, I've had my fill of this shindig. Fancy a stroll?" Luke, ever the escape artist, suggested with a playful glint in his eyes.

A genuine smile touched Vernard's lips for the first time that day. "I'd like that," he answered, and they slipped away from the boisterous feast, two figures walking into the golden glow of the setting sun, their steps light and free, leaving the weight of court intrigue and royal duty behind. The falling leaves whispered secrets only they could hear, and the scent of autumn lingered in the air, promising a brief moment of peace amidst the chaos of their lives.

Fin ❤️✨

[arthyritis]

Meet Cute, Perhaps?

A/N: More proof that I can only wrote the same characters all of the time--I'm sorry, I promise I'll try to write more irisonas sometime T-T

Anyway, Tae and I were bonding over wanting to marry my background character IRIS OC since P won't and, oop, looks like IRIS Tae's got a new crush 👀

@bondedostae

-----===-----

For once, P had snagged an early shift, and he was damn lucky for it. With his oldest childhood friend in town for a few days, he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could.

Unfortunately, his habit to become obsessed with only paying attention to one friend at a time meant he lost a lot of friends over his life and he'd learned ways to combat that.

Speaking of, as he entered the locker room, he spotted just one of those friends that he only really saw at work and a couple of times outside of it. They had stayed friends regardless.

"Oh, hey, Tae," P greeted, and she waved over her shoulder in return as she plucked something from her locker with the other hand. When she turned around, P took note of her casual, non-work look and smiled. "You look nice. Are you doing anything this evening?"

Tae shrugged. "Not really. Why, what's up?" P could see the item in her hand was a phone which she looked down at with a vague expression, examining the time.

P headed to his own locker and grabbed his shoulder bag. He didn't usually do much before going home, but he took out a couple of items of clothing and headed to a changing room.

"I'm going to dinner with a friend. Would you like to come?"

The door slightly muffled the sound of the response even as Tae got closer.

"Would that friend happen to be this Shells character you haven't shut up about?" P could decipher the smile from her voice alone and laughed along with its friend.

"It would. She's been really excited to meet my work friends, so if you're free, I'm sure she wouldn't mind you coming along."

"I'm free," Tae reassured, tapping something into her phone. A moment later, P stepped out wearing a blue, patterned button-down and black jeans with his boots and a jacket on his arm.

It checked through its pockets to make sure it had everything and scanned over the changing stall several times before it was confirmed that yes, it did indeed have everything.

"Well, I've just got to pick her up, so, uhh, meet us at the restaurant? I'll text you the address."

"Sounds good."

P sat back in the seat of his car, smoothing his shirt and checking his appearance in the rearview mirror.

"You look great, Paulie," Shells sighed, less in annoyance and more out of concern.

Her fiery red hair was pulled back in a half-up, half-down style, the bun sitting around the middle of the back of her head. Her black dress was smooth and matte, reaching her knees even sitting.

"Easy for you to say," P grumbled before it opened the car door and got out to round to Shells' side. He locked the car behind her, leading her by the arm inside.

Immediately, he spotted Tae sitting not far off and led Shells to the same table.

Before he could even try to introduce them, Shells spoke up, "Hey, great to meet you. Name's Shells."

Tae's eyes widened as she grabbed the fiery woman's outstretched hand, and even the dim lighting allowed them to see her blush, matching Shells' own.

"Your name is... amazing. I'm Tae."

Shells smiled politely, taking a seat next to her and ordering a drink as the waiter approached the table.

"Uhm, water for me," P responded with a slowly loosening smile. Okay, maybe this would go better than he thought.

[bullet-prooflove]

Babe fabulous job on that Otis fic 👏🏼👏🏼 !!! He is sexy & adorable af 😍 looking forward to more now that he’s been added. May I pretty pls request one for myself? Not a prompt but I’d really love a Brian “Otis” Zvonecek x fem reader where they get married tons of fluff, I’ll leave all the other details up to you so you still have creative freedom.

Thank you so much for your wonderful words, I am very grateful! I hope you enjoy this one. It was entirely inspired by the above GIF

A Companion Piece to Bodyshots

Tagging @lovinblueheart99

It was late when Otis made it back home to your shared apartment. He was coming off the back of one of the busiest 24-hour shifts of his career and he wanted nothing more than to climb into bed alongside you and wrap his arms around your beauteous form.

He was surprised to see you sitting at the kitchen table, your hands wrapped around a steaming mug of camomile tea, something you only drank when you had trouble sleeping. You were clad in his grey faded Battlestar Galactica t shirt, and navy-blue sweatpants that heralded from your days back at the police academy. Your hair was still damp from the shower you had taken earlier and tied up in a messy bun. Your silver wedding band glinted in the low light on your right hand, tucked neatly under the sapphire of your engagement ring.

There were mornings when he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Two years ago, you had agreed to become his wife, now you had been married three months and he didn’t think things could get much better.

“You shouldn’t have waited up for me.” He said in a hushed tone, placing a tender kiss upon your forehead.

The scent rich scent of ylang ylang clung to your skin, that sweet floral fragrance embodying the entire essence of you as a person. Soft, feminine and just a little bit dangerous. He revelled in it for a moment before collapsing into the chair close to yours with a groan. His muscles were tight and sore from hurling equipment throughout the duration of his shift. His fingers sought out a particular tense spot at the base of his neck, he rubbed at it with the palm of his hand as you slid a slender white stick towards him.

His gaze dropped to it apprehensively, his tired eyes blurring as he struggled to make out the detail. His brain snagged on the word ‘Positive’ on the digital display before he raised his eyes. “Is this some kind of new Covid Test?” he asked, picking it up and squinting at the device. “Is that why you’ve been so tired lately?”

You laughed. The noise started him, causing his eyebrows to furrow as you reached out a hand and placed it on his wrist, gently drawing his attention back towards you.

“That, my love, is a pregnancy test.”

He stared back down at the slender stick clasped between his hands before reading the word ‘Positive’ once more. A well of emotion rose within his chest, he swallowed past the lump in his throat as his eyes burned.

“I’m gonna be a Papa?” he asked you, his voice quivering just a little.

Your thumb stroked gently over the indentation of his wrist.

“You’re going to be a Papa.” You confirmed, biting your lower lip.

He sprang out of his chair with a speed that startled you. He wrapped his arms around your, clasping you close as he peppered your face with reverent kisses.

“How far along are you?” he asked, sinking to his knees alongside your chair so that the two of you were face to face.

“About ten weeks,” you told him. “Remember that night in Molly’s when we had our own private lock in after you closed up.”

“A little music, we both got a little tipsy…” he trailed off, his cheeks colouring as he recalled the aftermath.

Licking salt from your heated skin, the taste of tequila on his tongue before plucked the lime from between your lips. You’d made love right there on the bar, no barriers, no boundaries, just the two of you driving each other delirious with pleasure.

“I know it’s a little early, we were talking about maybe in a couple of years…”

“No.” he said cutting you off. “This is perfect, just perfect, you’re perfect.”

He kissed you with a tenderness you felt all the way down to your core. You were beautiful, radiant and he wanted to convey how much you and this baby meant to him, how happy he was that you were building something together.

“We’re not calling it Molly.” You told him when you separated, his hand coming to rest on your abdomen, imagining the little life nestled in there.

“That’s up for debate.” He told you before focusing on your stomach, his dark eyes bright with wonder. “I can’t believe we’re having a baby.”

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

New York High Rise {3}

Series summary; What does Steve think of what just happened? Well, not only will his next client get to know but also a dear friend of the mob boss.

Pairing: mob!Steve x mob!reader  

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 3/5

Word; 6.2k

Warnings; canon type violence, death, anything you could expect from a mafia!au

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I just want to warn anyone, this chapter revolve around Steve and contains graphic scenes so if anyone feel like they may get triggered, I have now warned you. If you choose to read anyways it is YOUR choice.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Steve was fuming. He could practically feel the steam rising from the top of his head. This time, compared to earlier, it wasn't because of the feverish warmth inside the club. Nor the sunny season's air outside. It was because of the folder resting on the table.

The Canine boss could still hear the echoing slap the orderly stacked papers had done when landing on the table. Even your words reverberated in his head like an annoying tune he couldn't help but mutely sing in his mind.

This was not how he'd thought this meeting would go.

Steve had planned to get his will through, to expand his empire from Brooklyn to the most successful part of New York, Manhattan, your territory. But no. You'd decided to be as stubborn as a mule and as stuck up as the bureaucrats that he needed to handle in exclusive deals.

Now he understood why so many said your empire wasn't the usual kind, rather something new. You'd built your syndicate from the best, or worst in regard of how the Canine for the moment saw you, of two worlds.

"Bitch", you were long gone, so the growled curse aimed at you went unheard. However, the walls around Steve caught the profanity he uttered whilst snagging the folder from the table and pursued to head out of the room.

Only the guards stationed outside the corridor leading to the conference room was still in the club. Yet, the Canine boss paid them no mind as he stalked out of the private area, making them scramble to follow him. The rest of his party, even those previously undercover, must have either retreated for the night or waited outside. Concerning how Steve himself hadn't left yet, he suspected at least his most trusted team was waiting by the car.

Passing through the lobby, the mob boss frightened some of the staff lingering about. Not only thanks to the authority he always carried himself with but also his visible darkened features. However, Steve's attention didn't stray to the people following him with wary eyes. Instead, he looked straight forward, focusing on his guards where they lounged around the black Chrysler he'd arrived with a few hours earlier.

Seemingly, they had enough of an engaging conversation that they shared some laughs. But that changed the moment Steve stepped through the door a bouncer held open for him.

Usually, the Canine boss' hard exterior dissolved somewhat among his men, seeing how they'd become good comrades. Although now, when the dark-blonde man came out of the club looking like he could kill someone, their easy smiles and carefree stance immediately smartened up. Backs straightened and jaws clenched upon seeing the fury Steve not only emitted with a scowl but his whole body.

"How did it go?" One of the guards questioned, more out of courtesy than curiosity, concerning it was clear how it went. As suspected, he got nothing more than a glare from Steve, seeing how his anger hadn't flickered out the slightest, only heightened when feeling how his fingers clutched the folder in his hand even tighter. Your folder with your contract.

"Where's Barnes?" Some flinched by his bark of a question.

"He's still inside...", the rest of the answer fell on deaf ears as the blonde rounded the car, not caring too much where his head bodyguard was for the moment, only that he would hurry up to finish whatever he dealt with.

"As soon as he's back, we go", the driver, who had noticed the Canine boss and stepped out of the vehicle to hold open the door for him, didn't even get the chance to do what he intended. Steve all but tore open the backseat door and climbed into the car. Leaving the chauffeur to stand there and look at his boss in perplexity, as the Canine didn't more than touch the black leather seat before he slammed the door shut again.

That Steven had a temper everyone in his vicinity knew. But how he now acted reached not only a new level but contrasted heavily to how you'd appeared.

You'd left about ten minutes ago, looking indifferent to how everyone in Steven's patrol had seen you when first entering the designated conference room. That guard of yours had led you to the car parked mere ten feet from their own boss'. There, your chauffeur had greeted you with a smile and a few quiet words none besides you were meant to hear. Neither was your response, that likewise was accompanied with a smile, able to be distinguished.

As you stepped into your transport, none of the men trying to read your expressions noted anything more than a similar politeness Steve could show them once in their company. However, when comparing it to the state of their own boss once he exited, it was clear that the meeting didn't favour the Canine boss, but rather the Feline. And though none who had accompanied Steven knew what the two of you'd discussed concerning the meeting had been a closed-door discussion, they knew their boss hadn't brought anything with him earlier. So when spotting the portfolio that the mob boss had held in his hand, it only sealed the deal further.

That was why none of the guards nor the chauffeur intruded on the solitude Steve had sought inside the car, merely waiting for the right-hand man of the Canine boss to return so they could head to their next stop.

And it was good none did either, seeing how Steve mulled over everything that had happened with curses leaving him every five seconds. Additionally, anyone who would've opened the opposite backseat door would have got your folder smack in the forehead, seeing how the blonde man had thrown it as harshly and as far away from himself that he could, once in his own confinement.

He didn't need to hold the damned contract you'd offered him, even less open and study it, to know he would read it in your annoying voice. And that aggravated Steve even more.

It annoyed him that your voice echoed as a constant reminder in his mind. It annoyed him that you'd prepared a contract, which so obviously cried you hadn't even come here to listen to him in the first place. It annoyed him to such a fucking degree that you'd played him by a mere act of forced courtesy rather than a gentlemen move, to use your own words, that it felt like he could just tear the contract to shreds.

Still, he didn't.

The blonde man seethed, turning his head to look at the folder. 'If you don't sign it and have it delivered to me, I know you've declined my offer and this war will be ended in another way.' He knew you were serious about that, so perhaps that was why he hadn't left it behind in the conference room. Nonetheless, it had taken a great effort for Steve to push away every ounce of pride in his body to grab ahold of it. And when he finally held the stiff cartoon folder, it had almost felt like it burned him like some crucifix. No, it burned like a sign of defeat.

Joseph Rogers would never have done it, never admitted when he was defeated.

At the thought of his father, Steve's hand fisted where it rested on the armrest dividing the two seats in the back of the car. What would he say? He probably wouldn't have said anything, just walked out as you had done to him. A vibration deep in his chest made a low sound leave him at the realisation you actually played the game his father always had and Steve himself only thought he had.

Fittingly, or unfittingly in his own mind, the door connected to the other seat opened with a click to interrupt the abusive thoughts of his father.

Although pulled out of his mind, Steve didn't glance to see whoever plucked the folder occupying the seat beside him before they climbed in themselves. There was only one person that first and foremost would dare to be in his presence right now. On top of that, also knew he was the only one who didn't need to repeatedly ask for permission to join him.

Not even when he saw the person shift in his peripheral, from simply holding the folder to actually waving it slightly to catch his attention, clearly wanting to ask him a question, did Steve look towards them. Although, he did speak up.

"Not a word, Barnes", the Canine boss raised his fist, so it was levelled with his cheek as he said this. By now, his nails had dug into his palm and there was no question small crescent moons would be dented in his skin.

"Maybe I should've stayed, after all", the sentence was followed by a chuckle, the sound making Steve snap to watch the man sitting beside him.

"Didn't I say you should keep your mouth shut?" The blonde stared at the brunette. Who, unlike earlier, now had pulled his hair into a low bun in the nape of his neck. However, no matter the fury the Canine's cold blue eyes conveyed, Bucky Barnes saw no real threat.

"You often do, but you have so far not put a bullet in me", Bucky shrugged with an easy smile.

The mob boss remained silent as his head bodyguard leaned forwards far enough to knock on the wall beside the still open windshield that could separate the driver from those in the back seat.

"Close it up", Steve honestly thought the brunette would've given the chauffeur, who now had taken his place behind the wheel, directions of where to go. Gauging by his act, he must have done it before getting into the car. Hence, the driver did nothing but nod to signify he heard what the guard said before closing the visor, leaving whatever Steve knew Bucky wanted to talk to him about for only him to hear.

He felt the car rock to a gentle start, the road underneath the vehicle sending small vibrations throughout Steve. Tilting his head, he saw the scenery blur as he didn't concentrate on anything specific they drow by.

Despite the initial silence of the car ride, the blonde saw how the man beside him shifted, angling his body just slightly more his way. The minimal change of where Bucky attention laid told the mob boss he would initiate a conversation. And as on a cue, Bucky spoke. "So what happened? 'Cause clearly you scared half of your squad enough for them to want to take a week off".

He didn't redirect his gaze, fearing that his now fisted hand would connect with his friend's jaw if he didn't control himself. What happened? The question taunted in his mind, enough so that Steve clenched his jaw. Everything that shouldn't have happened.

"You have the folder", he gritted out, continuing to aimlessly stare out of the window, now concentrating on how the scenery changed from the narrow streets the nightclub had been located in to instead manifest the glittering sunset reflecting off the water in East River.

Beside him, he felt how Bucky shifted and shortly afterwards came the sounds of papers starting to be turned over. The head guard sat silent as he read the contract that not even the Canine had looked through.

The lack of verbal confirmation of Steve's evident loss in this meeting spurred the blonde, whether he wanted or not, to glance at the brunette.

Bucky's brows were furrowed. Consequently causing the grooves on his forehead, which always appeared when he pondered something, to become extremely visible. His features remained this way as his eyes scanned over the rows stitching together the contract. Then, for some reason, they changed.

From an expression showing the brunette tried to fathom the situation that had made Steve considerably harsher to anyone in his close vicinity, his face now fell and a smirk began to toy with his lips. On top of this, he let out a low whistle turning to the next page.

The smouldering anger in Steve's chest flared up to the same intensity it had burned with earlier. Back when he had sat in silence and glared at the folder inside the club. He ground his teeth together, feeling how they caught in each other's pointy edges.

"What?" He demanded to know what the man all of a sudden found so entertaining. Yet, the answer didn't come immediately. Instead, Bucky sat there with the same expression pinning his face while finishing the document in his grip.

Not until the brunette had closed the binder and waved it similarly to how he'd done when entering the car did his gaze meet Steve's. His eyes, also blue but slightly greyer in colour, was crinkled in the corners. The amusement, or whatever caused the mob boss nostrils to flare in agitation, was only further displayed by the shake of his head.

"She's good".

"What?" Bucky almost hadn't finished his nearly wordless reply before Steve barked his requirement of an explanation.

"Whether you want to admit it aloud or not, I know you think about it in that analysing brain of yours", the brunette begun, pushing the folder underneath the mob boss' arm on the armrest. Steve, who followed the act with disdain, shuffled in his seat directly afterwards so he wouldn't be touching the contract which you formerly had been carrying around.

Watching the blonde's action, Bucky only continued, now even less worried his words might be wrong and evoke further anger from the Canine. Of course, he might still get mad, though Bucky knew he at least was right. "She is good, Steve. If not shown by this contract, which I suggest you read, then at least how she's gotten to you".

The blonde man elected to ignore the last part of his bodyguard's sentence. Hence, only questioning the first part. "Why should I read it?"

Arrogance was a trait many shared once someone stepped on their pride, but never had Bucky witnessed such amounts of it exhibited by the Canine boss. His nose twitched in the corner as if the mere thought of opening the papers offended him. The mistrust in his voice showed he didn't believe what just was advised to him, nor that the words of you being competent could be true. All signs of denial, a damaged pride.

"Sometimes I wondered how you even could've come this far to rebuild your father's empire when you're so stubborn to see the truth at times", the comment made Steve cock his head.

"Is that a threat or a call for resignation, I hear?" Bucky simply rolled his eyes and turned to fully face the man, now giving him his undivided attention.

"I may have been here from the day you called me and asked me to join your plans, but believe me, working outside this world for some time, especially in the field I was in, you learn to see who is good at their job and not".

Although Bucky had known Steve ever since they were kids, essentially because their fathers had been partners when the Canine empire was worth more than its own power in gold, the two had fallen out of the regular touch they'd kept after Joseph had passed. Steve had remained close to his mother. While Bucky returned to have both his feet in the ordinary world.

His name had never been brought into the discussion of conviction or any kind of youth crimes, essentially thanks to his father never being proven guilty of the few charges raised against him. Another favour his old man thanked the former Canine boss for. For Bucky, it made things easy to find live his life as if he didn't know what went on underneath the city he walked in.

He went to school, took a degree in law. Which his father before passing as well, considered humorous. Though, Bucky didn't start working directly even if offered jobs. He'd been young and not really knowing which direction he would go. He had no mothers footsteps to follow, seeing how she'd passed before he even had a memory of her. His father shoes still felt too big to fill, so he decided to follow a path he felt natural.

Bucky joined the army. Not more than a few years and two trips. Nevertheless, it was easy pocket change concerning two factors. His father had urged him to take the same martial art classes as Steve's father had done to him. He'd also lived with one foot in the syndicate and the other outside during his whole childhood. The concept of order, planning and warfare wasn't anything alarmingly new to him.

Then he'd begun to explore more, starting to step into the low tier position as an intern at different firms. It was easy to get in, concerning his degree and quickly, he gained enough working experience to get a promotion. His former boss at the advocate company may have thought Bucky was a natural talent or a genius from school. But, it was all thanks to his upbringing he possed the requirements a higher position demanded.

It's mainly thanks to his years working within the judiciary before reconnecting with Steve and began working as his head guard Bucky knows you fall into the group of people who are good at what you do.

The blonde had sat silent this whole time, never breaking away from Bucky's stare. It made the brunette believe that his friend would settle whatever resent he had towards you personally and at least read through the arrangement you assembled for the greater of his empire. Apparently, he was wrong.

"But now you're not working with that anymore", Bucky actually let out a low scoff of annoyance.

"I'm working as a head personal guard for someone I'm swaying on keeping alive at the moment, I know. And I do this because we both know I'm better at the combat part than you, ever since we were kids", despite the jab, it was the mention of how the man, despite being roughly the same size as Steve, always had been slightly better at fighting then himself that made the blonde bite his inner cheek. "I also know that I'm still damn good at what used to be my former profession. Which, you actually also should know concerning you never shoo me out of the room when discussing with your official advisors of the plans to come", when he finally ended the point he wanted to prove, he cocked a brow at Steve, who now had furrowed his brows.

Bucky saw the ire still lingering in the blondes' eyes, making them go cold rather than warm. Nevertheless, he said nothing. The Canine boss simply gave the folder, which hadn't moved from its settlement no matter how much the two men gently had rocked with the turns of the car, one last glare before he altogether turned away as much as his seat let him.

The head bodyguard was close to letting the comment of how similar the mob boss, who'd made a name for himself lately of being indifferent to everything standing in his way, was to a rebellious child. Yet, in the end, he didn't, knowing the car ride would become even more atrocious than it already was set to be.

As suspected, the whole drive from the club to the luxurious hotel, where the Canine boss' next stop was, went by in complete silence. And, when they finally pulled up outside the building, the car had almost not stopped before Steve opened the door without a word. The brunette couldn't but let out a huff and follow the man out of the vehicle.

As Bucky tracked a few steps behind the blonde mob boss, he nodded to a few of the other bodyguards to follow as well. Whatever he might have remarked about considering to keep Steve alive was very much said as a dig at the moment to remind the man he might be written as his subordinate, but he was true to nature working side by side with him. After all, Steven was his friend and Bucky didn't desire to get his blood on his hands.

When the little party of Canines neared the entrance, both men stationed on each side of the doors opened them without further ado. Either they thought Steve looked like someone fitting to live here, or they could've been paid to do so. The brunette figured it was the latter concerning the overall safety measures, not only this hotel but the district in general upheld. Although, he didn't question it way too much as he now concentrated on the slightly denser crowd of people in the lobby.

Not only did they blend in quite well, concerning the people living at this hotel was flanked by at least two bodyguards each. Bucky also noticed how some of the former rigidity in Steve's shoulder lessened as he weaved through the lobby.

Though anyone else may find it excellent that the physical aspect of the blondes former irritation trickled off, it unsettled Bucky even further. Thus, having grown up with Steve, he knew that the silent seething anger was worse than the outgoing one. This, in other words, didn't bode particularly well.

However, even though the brunette had a raising suspicion, along with fear, that this visit the mob boss had decided to do after his meeting with you wouldn't have a good outcome, he had no chance to voice his worry. Essentially because the elevator they'd taken to reach the floor they were heading to now stopped.

Bucky was first to exit the elevator. Checking that the coast was clear before looking back to the Canine boss. He tried making the blonde meet his gaze, now seriously doubting if Steve was fit to meet the partner he'd had an escalating problem with the past weeks. Yet, the blue-eyed man kept his attention straight forward and didn't even spare his childhood friend a glance.

A thousand things were running through Steve's mind as he headed down the corridor, spotting the door his business partner was on the other side of.

He knew Bucky tried gaining his attention with the repetitive looks he threw his way. His most entrusted bodyguard and friend could read him like an open book. Thus knowing the silent facade that he'd put up was just that, a facade. Still, he continued to ignore him as he'd done ever since their conversation was over half an hour ago.

As the party stopped before the door, Steve decided to give the inclining nod to one of his other guards to step forwards and knock on the door.

Following three rapid knocks, a call of 'no cleaning' followed by a similar set of knockings later, footsteps could be heard near the door from the other side. A few seconds after, the door swung open, revealing a man currently trying to fasten his cufflinks.

"I said I didn't...". Even though the brunette's eyes had been cast down as he'd began to speak, the second they flickered up to watch, what the man must have assumed would be a hotel maid but rather was the Canine mob boss, he trailed off in his sentence.

"Good day Mr Jefferson", if the man's body hadn't already gone rigid, his shoulders bounced up even closer to his ears after Steve's greeting.

In a hurried attempt to smarten up, he completed his attempt of fastening the jewellery pin.

"Mr Rogers", he breathed out almost shakily while pulling a hand through his hair, some of the strands sticking to his scalp while others simply fell forwards once more. "Why do I owe the pleasure?"

Without answering, Steve stepped forwards, forcing the man to open the door wider.

As he walked into the pad, the blonde gazed around it uninterestingly. It was lavish. Probably like most rooms were in the hotel.

"I'm here to talk with you". Steve answered his associates question the second he heard the door closed. Taking the liberty, he sat down in the couch group occupying a vaster portion of the entry room's space. "Sit", with a wave of his hand, the Canine motioned to the sitting place at the other side of the dark oak table.

Jefferson, who glanced warily at the guards that had stationed themselves around the room -one by the window, another two directly behind Steve and the last lingering by the door out to the corridor- had no other choice than to follow the mob boss' directions.

Sitting down at the edge of the seat, he swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"How's business going?" The mob boss asked as he leaned against the couches backrest. One arm was slung over the ridge, fingers tapping against the material, while his other hand rested on his thigh.

"Bussines is going well".

"Good, always nice to hear companies you invest in are going strong", Steve hummed, noticing the minimal shift Jefferson did as he said this. "How's my money going?"

"Ah... t-that question is a little more complicated...".

Even though the brunette continued to ramble about all the different reasons his payments were late, or not even that, non-existing, the Canine boss didn't listen. He knew he was being screwed over by the man opposite him. He'd gotten the information weeks ago that the CEO of the company he's worked with since the beginning of the year wanted to change sides.

At first, it had been more of a rumour and he hadn't been able to dig up where Jefferson's company was heading. Then it became clear they would switch partners to one of the other godfather's around New York. However, even if Steve thought he didn't like how they tried doing so in the shadows while still upholding their deal, the worst thing was when he got to know who they shifted their alliance to. You.

Seeing how much unfavourable publicity you'd given his empire in the last few months was aggravating. However, listening to the man talking his ear off as if Steve hadn't already figured why exactly fifteen percentages of the profit capital was rolling into your account instead of his was the last drop.

Without even noticing it himself, Steve's hand that had rested upon his thigh raised and were tucked into his suit.

The metal handle he gripped wasn't cold anymore, not after having rested so close to his heart for over an hour. Nor did it get cooled down as he hastily pulled it out of its holster and aimed it at the man opposite him.

"I don't like rats, Landon", the use of the man's first name rather than surname would've made him quiet if the gun aimed his way already hadn't silenced him. "Pray you don't get reborn as one in your next life as well".

On the firearm, a silencer was mounted. So the characteristic bang sounded much more like a pop. Therefore, the noise of the gun was even less intimidating than the ricochet. However, neither of the telltale signs of a shot made Steve flinch, not even as he watched the bullet penetrate the space in-between his former associate's eyes, did he react.

As the mob boss stood, Jefferson's upper body slumped forward, hitting the table with a heavy thud and ugly clap as his head was the first thing that connected with it. No tears were trickling down his cheeks. Only a red streak that steadily created a near-invisible puddle on the mahogany table.

"Steve!" The silence and peace Steve found in watching the body was cut short by Bucky's voice.

The Canine glanced to his side, regarding how his head bodyguard rounded the couch and stood before him with one single step.

"What the fuck was that?" The brunette exclaimed, hand motioning to the dead body.

If any other person than Bucky would've done the same thing in this instance, they either would've ended up joining peaceful Mr Jefferson, or they wouldn't work within the Canine empire anymore. However, concerning that it now was his childhood friend staring at him in disbelief, Steve made sure none of the options was carried through.

"Problem-solving", Steve answered, about to take a step forwards but were stopped with a hand planting itself on his chest. He looked down before looking up with a cocked eyebrow.

"That ain't how we solve shit!"

"Not we, but I", Steve said, gripping Bucky's wrist, ripping it away from him. "You see, now both our problems are solved. He doesn't need to fear his cover being blown and I don't need to lose more money". That was all Steve said before taking a step around the brunette, whose eyes had narrowed considerably.

As most of his colleagues trailed after their boss, Bucky stayed back just a second longer, looking at the lifeless body giving a new sheen to the table whilst staining the carpet underneath. He'd known Steve had taken your conference badly and he also knew it hadn't been a good idea to have this appointment so shortly afterwards, especially when it was connected to you, but in such a different way. Still, he hadn't believed it would take this much of a turn.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Damn that fucking thing!" Steve roared, not thinking when he swept his hands over his desk. Everything from pencils, an empty coffee cup and other things crashed to the floor. However, it wasn’t solely that which now was littering the ground. The papers of your contract had flown out of the folder as well.

Staring down at the mess of shattered glass and paper from his standing position. The Canine boss felt a sneer enter his features. Ever since returning home late last night, he'd been locked inside his study. Primary because it was the place no one dared to disturb him in, but also because he didn't feel like arguing with Bucky.

He knew that after the stunt, as he knew his friend and bodyguard would label his approach to the Jefferson problem, the brunette wanted to speak with him. Yet, with the residue anger of not only a restless night, one Steve had powered through thanks to copious amounts of coffee. But also the subject now taunting him on the floor, a conversation with his right-hand man would lead nowhere.

He and Bucky didn't often get into fights, but Steve was convinced this was one of the matters that could force such a confrontation. He'd still not gathered his bearings enough to admit that he needed to yield. Because that was what he would need to do.

The mob boss switched from watching the scattered pieces of the contract to instead stare straight into the oaken surface of his desk as he now leant on it, knuckles turning white from how strongly he held the countertop. By now, he'd read through the four-page agreement. Something that was a step in the right, or in Steve's regard wrong, direction.

He didn't want to admit it. But as Bucky had mentioned yesterday, it was a top-certified contract. He couldn't find any loopholes. No grey-zones. No area that he could play you on.

Steve knew that you would be hard to crack, but he hadn't anticipated this.

Despite knowing that you and the Felina empire had overtaken his father's grip on New York, he had underestimated you. A woman running the empire you did was so uncommon he thought you would have some weak spot regarding how you had no one else to look up to. Nor did you have any previous family connections to the underworld. Which honestly made your success even more astonishing. 

Almost so much it was questionable if you had done it yourself.

Steve had assumed you hadn't. Someone else must be the brain behind the operation, simply using you as a puppet. However, it seemed he'd made a tremendous mistake by assuming just that. It wasn't anyone else running your empire. You were involved in every little part of the well-oiled machine.

Once more, the canine boss let out an irritated noise, sounding more like a growl than a harsh sigh in his own ears.

He pushed off from the countertop and, in one motion, had side-stepped his chair. Now, with the room behind him, Steve stared out of the windows lining the wall furthest from the entrance. His arms had crossed over his chest and remained there as he stared out at the bay not far away.

Ferries and other boats travelled the waters. Breaking the tension and creating small waves. If it wasn't for this, it almost would've looked like they travelled through the city. Regarding how not only New York's but also Brooklyn's dusk lightning reflected in the water.

When the Canine boss finally felt the sight before him lessened the tension in his shoulders, a knock came from the door.

If his features ever had lightened, the sound immediately beckoned a furrow to take its place. Even more so when the door opened without him having given the person on the other side permission.

He knew who it was, Bucky.

"What do you want?" Steve's voice was cold, harsh. 

"I want to speak with you", instantly, the mob boss noticed how his friend's voice didn't carry that joyous tone when he spoke to him as just that, friends. Bur rather the more levelled one, the professional one.

"I won't speak about Jefferson".

"Neither is that why I'm here", glancing over his shoulder upon hearing the rustle of paper, the Canine boss saw his guard pick up the pieces of the contract from the floor. He arranged them before putting them back into the folder. Contrary to how Steve would've caused the map to give away a whack when flinging it onto his desk. Bucky's hand followed through the whole movement. His fingers even resting upon the grey folder as it laid placid on the middle of the counter.

"I'm here to talk about the real problem", Steve turned to face the brunette. He didn't say anything. Still, Bucky knew that having gotten this much attention was a sign he either was about to be shot or given a limited amount to talk.

"I know this is hard for you, Steve... actually scratch that, it is hard for everyone who's supported you. But I'll be damned if you let everything we've worked for go to waste because you don't have it in you to lose a battle in favour of winning a later war"

All of a sudden, Bucky's face twisted as an unexpected crash echoed. His fist had smashed onto the table. Enough for the countertop to rattle.

“I love to give you the most personal advice I've ever had”, he started, not even holding back his pent up frustration. “Sign that fucking contract, pal". The canine boss' blue eyes narrowed as he met the stormy grey ones of the man before him.

"Get out", Bucky clenched his jaw and straightened himself.

"I'll be waiting for the call to come and pick it up", was the last thing the brunette said before swiftly turning on his heel and heading to the door.

Steve followed his oldest friend with his eyes until the door echoes shut behind him. Even after Bucky's footsteps were long gone, did the Canine boss stare forward. He did it simply because he didn't want to let his eyes flicker down to the contract, now turned to the last page where the paper waited for his signature.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A day later, Steve still stared at the folder resting un-signed on his desk. It was out of pure spite he hadn't signed it. To keep your victory at bay.

Two days later and he felt how the clock on his wall ticked louder than before. How the voices in his head escalated from whispering to shouting at him. 'Sign that fucking contract, pal.'

Three days later and Steve felt how time was running out.

Even if he didn't want to admit it aloud. To not sign would be foolish. Sure, he had the resources to continue this war. Hence, the short extra time the meeting and his delay in signing the contract had abled him to recoup. But still, his empire was lacking a significant piece his father's syndicate had, time. He needed more time to grow but wasn't given that. So yes, he could continue this battle, but he could not win it.

Therefore the mob boss gripped the pen and pressed the ink dipped tip to the dotted line.

His signature was darker than usual. More colour bleeding onto the paper. The curves of the letters were not as smooth as regular either. Instead, straighter, pointier. Forced.

Steve didn't look at his name shining back at him once he raised the pen and put it back in its stand. Instead, Steve stood and dialled a number on his phone. One tone was all it took before the person on the other end picked up.

"Get it out of my sight, Barnes", was all he said before instantly hanging up. The call had lasted four seconds. Even so, Steve deleted it from the history of his 'latest' list.

Shoving the phone into his pockets, the blonde man stood from his chair and headed to the office doors. He didn't look back once at the folder left behind on his desk. Not even when he closed the doors behind him.

Series taglist: @njrronaldo7​ @fanfic-love-show​ @gabycamargo22​ @fckdeusername​

[whimsicallyreading]

Eight Second Ride

Okay, so I did a thing. This is for @charincharge​ who made me think this was a good idea and @wordsxstars​ who convinced me to post it anyways when I reconsidered. XD I hope y’all enjoy. 

CW- An inaccurate portrayal of modern cowboys. They ain’t shit y'all. XD 

The smell of hay and top soil fills the arena and Aelin can feel the anticipation of the crowd rushing through her.

So far, Bulls Night Out had been more epic than she was expecting. When Aedion had showed up at her apartment and presented her with the tickets, she wasn’t impressed. A night in a building filled with dirt, watching men attempt questionable things with animals wasn’t exactly her idea of fun.

Yet, with every near-fatal miss and the difference between victory and failure lying in the milliseconds between competitors- Aelin found she was quickly becoming invested in the bizarre sport.

Lorcan Salvaterre was the name highlighted at the top of the leader board with an impressive nine-point-one second ride. A lot of the men, she noticed, didn’t even make the minimum eight seconds before flying off their bull.

Aelin had watched in morbid fascination as a rider named Vaughn was tossed and narrowly escaped death. A hoof missing his head by a hair. His buddies had helped pull him back over the fence just as a gate at the far end of the arena opened. She watched as two men on horses roped the angry steer and guided it back towards the stalls.

When Vaughn saw the timer which now reads N/A he took off his hat and threw it on the ground, yanking on the ends of his dark hair. A couple of hands reached around to pat his shoulder consolingly.

Aelin’s attention was pulled away as Aedion squeezed his massive thighs through the tiny, crowded stadium seating. A cherry frosty in one hand and the funnel cake she requested in the other.

He set the dessert of fried batter and powdered sugar in her lap, and her heart nearly stopped in her chest. Whether it was from the sight of something so greasy, or the pure joy of the carnival snack she didn’t know.

“It’s about time,” she goads Aedion through a mouthful of dough. The sugar already coating her fingers and a layer of it dirtying her jeans. It was a mess, but so good.

Aedion’s eyes narrow at her as he sips his frosty, “It’s a mad house down there. All of the lines are like a mile long and I’m pretty sure a clown tried to grab my ass.” He snags a bite of her funnel cake and shoves it in his mouth. “I hope your snack was worth it.”

“Keeping me happy is worth it,” she smacks his wrist when his fingers try to swipe another bite.

The crowd roars and Aelin looks back down to see a rider running back towards the fence, a glinting smile on his face. On the big screen, they replay his ride and clock him at nine-seconds even, placing him in second place.

Aedion whistles appreciatively at the footage and Aelin claps when a Fenrys Moonbeam is placed just below Lorcan on the leader board.

“Damn, he’s attractive.” Aedion comments, and Aelin nods enthusiastically.

“I’m not going to lie. I was skeptical about this-“ they watch as another rider is helped onto a bull and they await the go, “but this is way more fun then I thought it was going to be.”

“It helps that all of these people are fine,” he laughs. Aedion pulls out his phone, and videos the next ride. It only lasts five seconds, but makes an excellent boomerang that he swiftly posts to his story. Followed by a selfie of them and their snacks.

Lysandra would be so mad she bailed.

“Shit,” Aedion swears as he drops his frosty and the red ice bursts across the front on his shirt. “Shit. I forgot napkins.”

“I’ll go get some,” Aelin assures, but as she battles her way through the crowd and bumps various limbs against other peoples body parts, she regrets her chivalry.

It takes five minutes alone just to get to the bottom of the stairs. Pulling herself free from the throngs of people, Aelin leans against the bars looking down, directly into the arena. She needed a moment of fresh air, not surrounded by dozens of sweaty people. Aedion could wait an extra damn minute.

But, as she peels her eyes open, they nearly bug out of her head. Directly below her she can see right into the shoot, and the bull rider who was being set up for his next ride.

His eyes are the same pine green as the forests of her homeland, and she can see the white hair coiled into a bun right before his buddy slaps a hat on his head.

He was beautiful. A work of masculine art. Muscles for days and Aelin swore she could gut glass against his cheekbones. Aedion’s napkins are long forgotten as she stares at the man situating himself onto the fidgeting bull.

Rowan Whitethorn- the name is plastered on the big screen alongside his previous states and homeland. He’s from Wendlyn, her mother’s country of origin.

When Aelin looks back down, she startled. His face is locked on hers, green eyes piercing her skin with its inquisitiveness. He’s close enough she can see his pail eyelashes droop, apparently satisfied by what he sees. Aelin forces her expression to stay neutral as his yes flitter back up her face to meet her own gaze.

Their eyes lock, neither of them blink. Aelin can feel the temperature of the building rise by several degrees and she bites her lip.

A man slaps Rowan’s shoulder, telling him the count down has started. He barely pays the person any mind though as the seconds before his ride dwindle down. Just before the horn blows, he winks at her.

Aelin’s whole face burns as the gate is released and Rowan is out of the shoot like a rocket. Her heart is thumping in her chest like a base drum and she’s about ready to lay on the floor and die.

That man. She caught that beautiful man’s attention and got into a veritable starting contest with him like a five year-old. Her horror is only exacerbated when she realizes her hands are still coated in powdered sugar and it was probably on her face as well.

So much for her image as smoldering, goddess.

A roar from the crowd rises like never before. The men above the shoots near her have their hats off and are cheering at the top of their lungs. People are stomping, clapping. Something big just happened.

A replay of Rowan’d ride is playing across several different screens. Below his name, is his time.

Twelve seconds.

Suddenly, a pair of calloused hands are gripping the rails near her face, and a heavily muscled body is pulling itself up and over the edge.

Aelin staggers back as Rowan drops onto the floor in front of her. His eyes are lit with adrenalin and sweat beads his brow, but despite the whirlwind he’d just gone through he looked strangely serene.

He marches in front of her grabs a paper from inside his pocket. It’s a crumpled paper with a bold number on one side and on the back is his name and information.

Information like his phone number.

Her mouth goes dry as he presses it into her hand. Rowan gives her a smile that sends a tingle down her spine and makes her toes curl in her shoes.

“You are good luck, doll. You should give me a call sometime.”

Aelin’s bravado catches up with her and she places a hand on her hip, meeting his gaze full on. “If I’m such good luck then you would take me out for a drink. Tonight.”

Pulling the hat from his head, Rowan combs a hand through the loose strands of silver hair cascading around his face. “I think I can manage that.”

“I’ll be in row ten, seat seven. When you are done.” She pushes the piece of paper back at hum and nods to where Aedion is sitting. He’s be pissed when he realized she would be ditching him.

“I’ll see you in about an hour,” his eyes rake over her one more time before walking away to join his jovial friends.

They clap his shoulders, he’s so tall some of them have to jump to rustle the top of his head. All of them enthused over his almost assured win, before they sweep him away and he disappears into the crowd, he looks back at her one more time.

An hour, she mouthes to him.

A half-grin graces his face and he tilts his chin as Aelin makes her way back to Aedion.

Yeah, the rodeo was definitely more exciting then she was expecting.

[ducknotinarow]

[Big Mama + Usagi - im not sorry uwu]

“Ooh, my favourite bunny-bun is back!” Big Mama exclaims, gleefully clapping her hands together, “Sooo, how did it go? You know I LOVE hearing the details~” 

|Muse interaction

Samurai, did jobs like this all the time right? Right. That was what Usagi had to tell himself every time he went to report in to her. He hated how out of habit this all was by now, so used to walking straight in and to the elevator the bellhop that worked the elevator didn't even need to ask where he was going they knew he was there to speak with Big Mama herself. Well with company today, a yokai he had tied up an currently was leading them with the end of the rope as if they were leashed. A sorry soul who tried ‘out smarting’ her thinking they could get away with out paying her a cut of their scores. So Usagi was sent to to deal with them, the rabbit may be becoming to used to this if his first thought was claiming them to be idiot for thinking they could ever get with trying to cross the crime boss everyone fear from name alone.

The elevator moved on up to her office as he closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Needing a moment to get ready mentally, my ears twitched when the chime rang out pink eyes opened. Didn't matter if he even tried to prep himself he knew what was coming as he stepped out and made his way out.

“Ooh, my favourite bunny-bun is back!”

He hung his lip a little the moment she called him that, you think the worst part of his whole situation would be the fact he was working for Big Mama, ya know the crime boss? that owned most things in the hidden city? Heck, she had her hands all over in the city and above them even apparently that's just how powerful she was. So yeah you think it should bother him more that he was basically the lackey of a well-known villain. Yet not the worst part of his job? it was the nicknames,

Her way of speech was well unique that's for sure,

 “Sooo, how did it go? You know I LOVE hearing the details~” 

Usagi just sighed and reached for his side, a couple of sacks tied along his slash as he went and dropped them on to her desk, proceeding t opening up one so she could see the coins and other various goods inside of them. “They tried skipping out of town, thinking they could sneak out during the middle of day, probably thought night was too obvious a time to sneak out of the city. Carrying all of this on their person.” He went to explain to her, his tone was even as he reported to her “I had a feeling they would try going from the docks and found them quick enough. They gave a bit of trouble once they realized I was following them.” He couldn’t help the slightly way the corner of his mouth curled up into a smile “but they couldn’t run for long. I cornered them shortly after and was able to retrieve what was owned to you Ma’am. They we’re a little to easy to trip up and tie up as well.” But that figures right? A coward that ran wasn’t likely to be much of fighter after all.

Last bag untied as he finally stepped away from the desk now, arms held at his sides as he looked to her “They were holding out on you like you figured ma’am. this should be from the last few times plus extra.” Meaning he took it upon himself to snag more from the poor yokai idiot they thought they could get away with swindling Big Mama, in truth Usagi was hoping that taking more than ask would both earn favor with Big Mama on his own end. As well as get the guy off the hook or at least not face as much payback she was likely to set on them. Least that was Usagi’s hope, the guy was still a crook after all. All this coin and such was stolen not earned. Didn’t mean Usagi didn’t feel the slightest bit of pity for them despite it. If Big Mama had a target on you back well that was bad news as is. “And well you see the result now. I brought him along as well” Lifting the end of the rope to demonstrate that point to her.

[lupismaris]

Summertime, And The Livin’s Easy- a black sails fic prompt fill

this became incredibly long so instead of just posting it with the ask i’ve made it’s own post 

@themelonface​ asks- For the fic prompts (if you're still taking them), silverflint talking about children. Can be AU, can be set during or after canon. I just have a feeling Miranda never wanted any, Thomas was too wrapped up in the fight for equality to need anything more than cats, but maybe James would have wanted kids in another life.

HERE MY DARLING HAVE THE FIRST OF hopefully TWO PROMPT FILLS because i want to write a post canon ficlet for this ask as well. 

but for now have modern au silverflint (and hamilton at the end) and the discussion of children 💕

cw for mentions of child abuse and shitastic fathers!!! but theres nothing graphic mentioned or shown. 

***

It was the hazy space between what would have been brunch on a weekend and the corporate lunch time rush and the start of cocktail hour on every other day when half the bars in Brooklyn Heights hadn’t actually opened their doors yet and those that had were serving sandwiches and day drinking friendly cocktails.

 The Walrus was one of the latter.

Silver slid off his bar stool as the last member of the aforementioned lunch rush stepped out the door and leaned against the polished bar top with a bright grin. “How you holding up, honey?” Muldoon rolled his eyes. “Please, a corpse could make an aperol spritz.” “I doubt a corpse could make that many of them that quickly.” “Flattery might work on other men,” Muldoon said, as he always did, with a wag of his tattooed finger and a smile fighting to show on his face. “But it will not work on me.” “Are you sure? Cause you were pretty sexy with those martinis. Remind me why its always vodka?” “Your boyfriend has told you that a dozen times already, I know it for a fact, you shit.” “Okay but maybe I wanna hear you explain it. Again,” Silver said, propping his chin on his hands and putting on his best Cheshire smile, throwing in a slight batting of the lashes just for Muldoon’s sake. They played this game every time Silver wasted away a few hours at the bar, which he was starting to do more and more often. He’d joke with Flint that it was only out of boredom, but in truth, he felt safe there, nestled in the corner with his laptop or acting as an honorary member of the staff when they needed some help. He didn’t want to dwell too much on it, on why he felt so safe there or why after so many years he was once again feeling so painfully devoted to the same group of men who’d despite everything, seen him through hell. Muldoon sighed, his hands making quick work of filling the high powered steam dishwasher under the counter. He pushed it closed with his hip and looked up at Silver, finally cracking a smile. “Do you want to help me run bar for a bit, love? While it’s quiet?”

Silver was behind the bar before Muldoon could even consider changing his mind. He did pause to duck into the kitchen quickly, where the two line cooks- Randal and Dooley- were working on their mise en place and Vane was wedged into the alley doorway with a cigarette in his mouth, recovering from the lunch rush. His long hair was carefully tied up in a braided bun and covered in a bandanna, ears lined as always with half a dozen hoops a piece. “Why do you look like you just ate a canary?” Vane asked around his smoke. “No reason. Where’s the Captain?” Vane nodded to the walk in pantry where Flint was likely checking stock counts, “he’s in a mood again.” “When isn’t he? When he’s done tell him to come up to the bar I’ve got a surprise,” Silver said, still wearing that grin, and Vane laughed with a nod, going back to watching the alley behind the bar. “Alright come on you flirt-” Muldoon called, and Silver quickly washed his hands and snagged one of the spare aprons Hal kept behind the bar. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to make a cocktail, he played bartender for house parties all the time. But there was something different about learning to do it properly, from Muldoon who clearly took great pride in it, and in a place that was quickly becoming a second home to him. An hour in, and several successful cocktails later, Muldoon allowed Silver to help him actually fill orders for the few customers they got, though it wasn’t many. Flint still had not resurfaced from the kitchen, and so Silver kept his focus on the recipes Muldoon had him run through- proper martinis and Manhattans, Mojitos and mules, mezcal margs and all the things you could do with the collection of Amaros and aperitifs behind the bar. The customers were students on their way home from morning classes, morning shifters heading home or stopping for some food before the evening shift at their second job started, regulars who stopped in for lunch because no one made a cuban quite as well as their kitchen did.   And then the door chimed and Silver looked up with his customary smile and greeting ready, waiting to see where the guests might seat themselves- the host wouldn’t be in till four when the official dinner service started- and found himself staring at, well, children. Six of them, all too young to be in a bar unsupervised even before happy hour but probably even too young to be wandering around Brooklyn by themselves as it was. The older two definitely had the hardened older sibling with “semi absent if not entirely absent parents” look around them, Silver knew that look far too well, though whether the four younger kids were siblings or just under their care he couldn’t be sure. All of them were wearing some variation of public school uniform which Silver recognized from the public school a few blocks away. “Hey Nicki,” Muldoon said with a wave, and one of the older kids with short messy dark hair and equally dark eyes waved back. Silver looked at Muldoon quickly with raised brows. “Do me a favor go find Flint, okay? Tell him the kids are up front.” Silver just nodded, watching as Nicki and the other older kid shepherded the younger kids into the big corner booth closest to the bar without being told to, and slipped into the kitchen. Vane was at the prep table, knife in hand and making quick work of a cut of meat. He didn’t look up when he heard the door swing open but tilted his head expectantly. “Flint?” Sliver asked. “Smoke break, should be about done. Said he was coming up to see you in a minute.” Silver threw open the back alley door and there was Flint, propped up against the wall with a beaten up paperback on his knee and a forgotten cigarette in his hand. He looked up at him with a frown. “Hey whats wrong? You set the bar on fire with a flaming mojito or something?” he said, wearing a rare teasing smile. “Not yet but theres like, half a kindergarten class upfront.” Flint blinked, looked at his watch, and swore, “shit they must’ve let out early cause of the heat.” “Darling, what in the hell are you talking about.” Flint stubbed out the cigarette and tossed it in the ashtray by the door, kissing the top of Silver’s head as he passed. “I’ll explain in a minute- Vane! Leave the dinner service I need you on the meal kits with me-” “Already started on them,” Vane said, waving the knife idly as he portioned the meat into rather exact ready to cook portions. Flint nodded and washed his hands. “Dooley wheres those sandwiches I told you to fix-” “Here boss.” “Silver,” Flint loaded up six plates of sandwiches onto two serving trays and passed the lighter of the two to Silver. “Take one of these out with me ‘kay?” Silver nodded and balanced the tray on his shoulder, following Flint out of the kitchen. The bar was still mostly empty, Muldoon hanging out at the corner of the bar closest to the kids, making them each a Shirley Temple and passing Nicki a pitcher of water for them to share. Normally, Silver would’ve made some smart ass remark about how apparently it was normally for a bunch of kids to just turn up at the bar for lunch but something about this felt different and something in the set of Flint’s shoulders told him to stay quiet. “Let me guess the AirCon crap out again?” Flint asked upon reaching the table. “Or did one of you sabotage it to get out early?” The younger kids all started talking at once, bursts of loud excitement at seeing Flint, and the food, all wanting to explain why they had been let out of school a little bit early that day. Nicki and the other older kid, Sola, helped distribute the plates of food with smiles and nods of thanks while Flint listened intently to the kids’ rambling and incoherent explanations.   Once the young-ins were distracted by the sandwiches, Nicki offered a more coherent explanation. “Yeah they said the AC’s gonna be out till tomorrow with the heat, so they’re closing school till Monday,” he said. “Three day weekend I guess, without the extra homework since the teachers didn’t have time to prepare for any.” “Nice. Gonna meet your friends at the bridge park tomorrow? You mentioned wanting to get your kick flips more polished.” Nicki shook his head, looking bitter about it. “Can’t, busted up my front bearings and wheels on a ride home last week, won’t be able to afford to fix it for a bit. S’fine though, got chores to do.” Flint nodded, leaning back against the bar with his arms lazily crossed over his middle. “Do me a solid and bring the board by tomorrow okay? I think one of my guys might have some spare parts they’re not using.” Silver felt something in him break a little at the way the boy’s face lit up at Flint’s words. Or maybe it was at the ease with which Flint handled the kids, the openness he showed them, listening to how their days had gone, if only in brief, listening to their problems, which to them seemed world ending- Sola’s internet was out for the weekend, so she’d be at the library doing homework on Friday and probably most of the weekend when she wasn’t helping at her aunt’s salon, the little ones would all be shuttled to various relatives until Monday until they went back to school and Sola and Nicki, or another of the older kids in their building would take charge of them again. One of the younger kids was staring at Silver, her sandwich half held to her mouth. Just staring, bright brown eyes fixed on him in that quizzical way that children possessed that always made Silver feel transparent. Flint noticed and followed her gaze with an amused grin, waving for Silver to come over to join them instead of hiding behind the bar with Muldoon.  Silver looked at him wide eyed for a moment, then at the kids, specifically the little girl who was staring him down like a gunslinger, and then back at Flint, who just reached for him. Damn the bastard, he knew that was all it ever took. Silver came over and let Flint pull him in under his arm, feeling like a bug under the microscope in a science class he never attended but had heard about from other people. “You have pretty hair,” the little girl said. She was missing her two front teeth and Silver wanted to melt. “Thank you. You have big eyes.” “Yeah. They see a lot,” She said nodding solemnly. Silver could feel Flint shifting with the effort it took not to laugh. “They’re a pretty color. They remind me of this stone called tiger’s eye,” Silver continued. He could see Nicki giving Flint a look, though he didn’t know what Flint was doing in response. The little girl tilted her head. “Whats that?” So Silver pulled out his phone and showed her, which lead to a short lesson in gemstones that mostly amounted to excited cries of “oh shiny” and “I’d steal that one” which did Silver’s heart good. “This is Silver, a friend of mine who just moved back to town. He’s helping out round here. So he and I are gonna go fix your take away bags,” Flint said, once the momentary fascination in gemstones had faded and the kids were once again fixed on their plates. “Sola, you and Nicki just let Muldoon know if you guys need anything, or stick your head in the kitchen and yell okay? We’ll hear you. C’mon Silver.” If Silver had hoped for an explanation, he didn’t get one. Once he and Flint crossed the threshold back into the kitchen there was work to be done- Randal and Dooley handled the orders brought to them from the waitstaff while Flint and Vane, with Silver doing whatever Flint told him to, made quick work of assembling meal kit after meal kit from dishes both on and off the bar’s menu. Everything was boxed up and taped shut, paired with pre-typed instructions on how to cook the meals and how many servings each would make, and tucked into sturdy double layered brown bags that would hopefully survive a trip across the neighborhood. As they were finishing twenty minutes later, Hal’s voice could be heard through the window behind the bar, which answered Silver’s most pressing question- did he know that Flint was just running a school cafeteria out of the bar? Apparently yes, and apparently the kids were just as excited, if not more so, to see “Uncle” Hal. Because of course they called him Uncle Hal, why wouldn’t they. God, Silver was going to have to book a fucking dentist appointment for all the tooth rot the sweetness of this was giving him. He helped Flint carry out the bags of food, Vane insisting the kids would be too scared of him while Flint argued that Vane was just scared of the kids, and Silver watched as Hal and Flint got the bags labeled for each child and into a push cart that Sola promised to bring back the next day when she passed on her way to her Aunt’s salon. He then did his very best not to pass away on the spot as each kid, even Nicki and Sola, hugged Hal goodbye. Flint had crouched down to say good by to the little ones, accepting their clumsy hugs, reminding them to be careful walking home, and asking them to recite the bar’s phone number for him just in case (though Silver was sure they probably had cellphones, even if they were elementary schoolers), before he stood and gave Nicki and Sola each a one armed hug and watched them shepherd the group outside again. “Only group today?” Hal asked and Silver thought his voice sounded a bit heavy. “So far. Powers out at their school though, likely a couple others’ll come by later. Want me to call around to the other bars and see if they’ve heard anything?” “Yeah call the food bank and the closest shelter too for me, see if we can’t drop off our end of night supply to them this weekend.” Later, several more hours of food prep and three more groups of wary looking kids who all seemed completely unafraid of Flint and his crew, plus a Thursday night dinner rush, and Silver finally got his explanation. He also thought he should have gotten the nobel prize for being able to keep his mouth shut for as long as he did. “So are we gonna talk about it?” Flint was sitting on the floor in front of him, half asleep already between his thighs, as Silver combed his hair. They had taken home food from the bar and shared a six pack between them on the deck, Thomas held up at a Client dinner where he was no doubt being wined and dined and bored to absolute tears. They had treated themselves then to a hot bath, with the jets, and were now just wasting time with the kind of nonsexual intimacy that Silver had learned he craved with Flint, waiting for Thomas to join them so they could all manage a good nights sleep. “Talk about what?” Flint asked, his voice a heady rumble. “The kids. And why they knew to just wander into a bar on a Thursday,” Silver said, keeping his voice gentle. He coated his hands in more product and worked it into the shaved sides and back of Flint’s head, massaging his scalp as he went. “Why you and Hal and the rest of the crew seemed completely unphased by it.” Flint hummed lowly, nearly a purr as he leaned into Silver’s touch. They’d settled into the bedroom Thomas and Flint shared, like they did most nights since it had the nicest adjoining bathroom and all the obnoxiously nice hair and skin care products. Silver sat in the old plush armchair, bundled up in a robe while Flint, naked and content to air dry, leaned into him, a picture of ginger hair, rich freckles, and well loved tattoos on a soft strong figure. If Silver hadn’t been so distracted by the day, he’d have been more appreciative. “S’not that big a deal. Lots of families round here with young kids, can’t keep an eye on them between working two or three jobs, haven’t got money for babysitters or relatives to watch ‘em, or enough to cover food for the week, especially when the public schools can’t feed em. You start to notice which kids it is, when they pass by, which schools they go to, which blocks.” “In Brooklyn Heights?” “They don’t live in this neighborhood, Silver, you know that, not all of Brooklyn has been gentrified to shit by the developers. Hell walk a few blocks east towards the tech school and you’ll find a lot of them. Or south towards Bayridge. Anyway, the groups you met today are all right from Downtown Brooklyn, they go to school nearby you’ve seen them.” “Yeah I just… I dunno, you see so much of the multi-million dollar condos I guess you forget thats not all theres is.” “Nicki lives with his mom, his dad walked out and she’s working two jobs to keep the one bedroom they share over on Jay street. He’s only thirteen but he tried getting a job with me washing dishes last summer, I turned him down, sent him home with some food for his trouble,” Flint continued. Silver smiled, he could picture the scrappy dark haired boy trying to square up with Flint, trying to convince him he was old enough to legally work. “Let me guess he wasn’t the first.” “Won’t be the last either. If they aren’t working for the family to earn some extra money or to cut back on hiring expenses they’re looking for shifts somewhere to pick up the slack. They’re losing out on being kids all because the rent keeps going up and there ain’t shit else to do about it other than leave. And a lot of them can’t even afford to do that.” There was a familiar grit to Flint’s voice, the old bitter salt that meant someone had touched a nerve. It scared other people, but Silver knew it just meant Flint was, for the moment, being vulnerable with him. “Were you Nicki once? Trying to bully your way into work?” Silver asked softly. He reached for the comb again and sectioned off a part of Flint’s hair to start working with. Flint was quiet a moment. “Yeah. Yeah worked the docks a bit as a boy, most kids did it to earn pocket money or to help out with the bills.” “Which was it for you?” “Granddad only had his pension. And he spent that on booze. So whatever I earned at the docks helping the fishermen, or from pickpocketing, that was what bought food. Kept the lights on, shit like that. I told you once, that I met Henessy that way, picking his pocket.” Silver laughed softly. “I do remember. You technically succeeded, didn’t you?” “Mm, he only caught me cause someone snitched. Broke that fuckers nose real good I’ll tell you.” They were quiet for a moment, Silver combing Flint’s hair with impossible care, working his fingers through any knots he found, before following with product and conditioner, Flint grew heavier and heavier against him, warm and soft and his. “So you and Hal decided to do something, the way you always do?” Silver asked. “Hm? Oh yeah- city isn’t doin’ much, food banks and schools are already over run, and when school holidays hit, they can barely keep up demand for kids who need free meals. So we got a few other bars involved, met with some schools and the food banks and sent out some notices and just- started feeding people. I mean thats why Hal wanted to open the bar you know? You feed people and you give them everything. You feed them and they’ll do the rest. So thats what we did. In a week or two when the schools are out for the summer we’ll have a couple trucks that’ll make deliveries, so the kids don’t have to come to the bar.” Silver hummed and kissed his temple. “You’re sweet.” “Am not.” “You’ll let me help, right? Prep the meals and stuff?” Flint tipped his head back to look up at him. “You want to?” “Yeah. This altruistic thing is new to me, as is the cooking for fun thing but… it matters, to you, any idiot can see that. And I want to be part of it.” Silver smiled and leaned down to kiss him best he could. He could feel Flint smiling into the upside down kiss. “You’re really good with them too, you know, which please don’t take this the wrong way, I did not expect,” he added when he pulled back. “What with the kids?” “Yeah.” “Oh no offense taken I have no idea how it happened. They just aren’t afraid of me for some reason. I fully expected them to be, mind. I used to think I had the kind of face that would make babies and small children cry but apparently they just, I dunno, think I’m alright.” “They trust you, thats a big deal for kids. Especially ones who have clearly been let down by other adults. I mean you also talk to them like they’re just tiny adults which probably helps.” “They’re gonna be adults one day, might as well treat them with dignity well before they realize they should be fighting for it, you know?” Silver smiled softly, “Sometimes I don’t think you realize how magnificent you are, you bastard.” Flint didn’t say anything, just blindly reached for Sliver’s hands so he could pull him closer. So silver set aside the comb and rested his chin on the top of Flint’s head, wrapping his arms around him and holding tight to his weathered, tattooed hands. “You were good with them too, once you stopped being scared of them,” Flint offered. “Kids scare me, I’ve never spent enough time around them to learn how to make them happy. They’re so easy to hurt, so easy to damage. And extremely durable, extremely resilient but… I dunno… Just never trusted myself and never had the opportunity to do more than amuse them for a few minutes at a time before vanishing into thin air like Santa Claus.” “Well, you’ll have plenty of practice at the bar. I still think you were good with them. Little Sylvie likes you at least.” “Not as much as they love you.” Silver thought a moment. “Hey…” “Hm?” “Have… Have you and Thomas ever talked about kids?” It was a heavy question, one that might have been too much too soon and a part of Silver wished he hadn’t asked it. But there had been such a softness in Flint’s face when he’d spoken to the children, a kindness and a focus in his attention that meant he’d put time and effort into his actions, into making sure what he was doing was what the kids needed in that moment. It wasn’t just an adult slumming it with the neighborhood kids cause he had nothing better to do, it was almost, dare Silver think it, Paternal in nature. Paternal and the dread Captain Flint being used in the same sentence had not been something Silver had ever considered as possible, and yet- And yet it was, and it had piqued the old curiosity. Flint was quiet again, though he didn’t pull away or let go of Silvers hands, so Silver trusted that he hadn’t upset him. Silver held him tightly, turning his head to rest his cheek on Flint’s hair and wait patiently for him to speak. “Its complicated, pup.” “You don’t have to tell me. I was just curious. I never thought of you as a dad until today but now I’m… I won’t lie a part of me is still thinking about it.” There was a soft shuddering sound and Silver felt Flint shift in his arms, curling tighter in on himself for a moment before trying to settle again. Silver held tight, pressing his face into his hair. It took another moment or two, and several deep breaths, but Flint eventually spoke. “Thomas and Miranda were expected to have children when they married,” he said lowly, “all wealthy families expect heirs. But Miranda didn’t want to go through pregnancy and Thomas wasn’t sure if he could sire so they found ways of putting it off and focusing on Thomas’ political career. Thomas… he wanted to save the world, I’m sure for a while he thought he couldn’t allow himself thoughts of a future until that was done.” Silver hummed. That did sound like Thomas. Even now, with the chip on his shoulder and the somewhat colder view of the world, he still seemed to think he could save it. Silver wasn’t about to point out that Flint still seemed to think the same way. “And after everything I dunno I guess it just took so much time to remember how to be living, breathing people again, that children were never part of the consideration,” Flint said with a shrug. There was a weight to his voice, an emptiness that had Silver frowning slightly in surprise. “How can you care for a child when you’ve only just come back to life? When you’ve only just found reason to stay alive? It- Any child we brought into our lives would have been at risk, back then for certain, though I’m not sure a child would be better off now and besides with how much we work its not like-” “James,” Silver said softly, lifting his head, “you’re rambling.” Flint went still in his arms, still as if waiting for the lash that he knew would never come, but waited for all the same. The readiness with which Flint expected violence broke something in Silver, just as much as it felt like a mirror, smudged and smoky and cracked with age. “Is this your way of saying you want to be a father, but the thought of it terrifies you?” Silver asked. “The things I’ve done,” Flint said in a rough voice, “The stains my hands have carried- I’d see them every time I held my child. That’s my fear, I think. That I’d see them, and that violence would stain them as well.” He paused. Silver held him, hiding his own face. It was easier, they had learned, to talk about such things like this, with Flint’s back to Silver, their faces just hidden enough to give the illusion of control. How many secrets had they shared like this? Silver was losing count. “I was raised by a drunken old sailor and a bastard of a navy man who brought nothing but ruin- what could I ever give a child, John?” Flint asked, his hands white knuckle tight on Silver��s, his eyes the deep green of the sea, ghostly and far away. “What could I give them but that same ruin?” And what could Silver say in the face of that? So he said nothing, just nodded and kissed Flints throat until the tension in his shoulders softened and Flint settled back against Silver’s body to rest, weary and still haunted, but at least no longer at knife point in his own home. Silver went back to brushing his hair, singing softly to him as he worked, until Thomas came home and they were able to find more pleasant ways to spend their evening than discussing the sins of one’s father. They didn’t talk about the possibility of children again, not for the whole of the summer. They helped the food banks and the neighborhood families as best they could through the summer, made sure whatever kids stopped by the bar or the kitchen door in the alley left with something to eat, on the house. Thomas made sure checks were written to the shelters and the food banks that needed them, that the families that needed childcare could get it free of charge. They got through the summer, and the conversation never arose again. Silver just kept the thought of Flint holding a bright eyed child that sometimes looked like Thomas’ kid, and sometimes looked like his own, locked away safely in his heart and didn’t examine it too closely. Then Idelle had her baby in August. In October they held a two month belated baby shower for her at The Walrus, so the crew could meet little Wesley Ira Featherstone and his father, bless him, could cry with his crew mates about how proud he was while Idelle had her first stiff drink in over a year. Rackham was there, of course, as the boy’s God father (Silver was delighted by the idea because Rackham was absolutely as terrified by the concept as he was as honored) and Wesley took to him as well as any two month old possibly could. But when it came to crying babies, Rackham didn’t know what to do, and Hal the God Father to all and obvious baby whisperer was back in the kitchen unable to assist. And so Thomas and Silver watched as Flint, who seemed to be acting without really thinking about what he was doing (outside of scolding Rackham who was himself on the verge of tears) scooped up the baby and promptly rocked him calm within moments. “How did you-” Rackham stared at him in shock. “If you didn’t fuckin panic all the time then he wouldn’a started crying,” Flint growled at him, which Wesley found hilarious, if the slew of gurgling giggles was anything to go by. Silver watched, feeling his face split into a ridiculous smile, as Flint refused to give the baby back to Rackham until he’d sobered up, and instead let Idelle tie a sling around his chest to tuck Wesley into, so he could still fix drinks and use his hands while keeping the baby safe. “Sure you don’t want me to take him back?” she asked, Max watching with an amused smile. “You’ll have plenty of him soon, I got ‘im. Just give Rackham a 101 on how to actually hold a baby.” Silver leaned into Thomas as they watched Flint from their seats at the bar, humming as Thomas’ arm went around him automatically, pulling him close into his side. He looked up, curious to see what Thomas thought of his husband suddenly so at home with a child. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but whatever it was, it wasn’t what he saw. Thomas’s face had gone soft, from the crows feet around his eyes to the laughter lines around his mouth, which parted in the gentlest shape of awe Silver might have ever seen on the man, as if he’d realized something he’d never considered before. His shoulders were rounded, leaning forward against the bar, hand fidgeting against the polished bartop as if desperate to reach out for his husband. Silver could feel the arm he hand around his shoulder tensing with the need to act. They watched as Flint moved behind the bar, one hand resting where Wesley’s head was under the sling, rocking him gently as he fetched fresh beers for himself and for Hal. Silver was watching his face, watching the way his lips were moving, as if he were talking to the baby, but he was just too far away to hear what he was saying. “He’s singing,” came Thomas’ voice suddenly, almost lost to the noise of the bar. “What?” “He’s singing,” Thomas said again, nodding to his husband. “Padstow Farewell, he sings it to me sometimes when I have nightmares, I’d know the lyrics on his lips even in the grave.” Silver smiled softly. “He sang it to me when I was recovering from my leg. I didn’t know it could be a lullaby.” “Neither did I but…” “But now-” “Yeah.” Silver reached for Thomas’ other hand and kissed his knuckles, leaning into him further. Thomas held him impossibly tight, resting his cheek on his hair. There’d be more to talk about in the morning, tomorrow, the day after, next week, next month, next year. And there was a dizzying sense of joy in that, the same kind of joy that came from watching Flint carrying the future in his worn and weathered hands.

[monsterstewwrites]

More Honey cuz I’ve gone insane

My Sheep hybrid AU Honey, from Miggiisdumb’s bnha hybrid farm au has been taking of my brain recently, so I wrote another thing for her. This time we actually see some of the smut she and farmer Shoto get up to.

I have no idea how farms work so a lot of this is guesswork and googling, also I am not a very good writer. But honestly, writing smut and sex gets me motivated anyway so here we go.

Shino belongs to one-spicy-spider and you should shower her with love.

Donovan stared into her eyes and ran his hands over her clothed breasts, her nipples hardening from the attention. The way his thumbs kneaded into the hardened buds sent shivers through her soft skin.

“Can you feel me through your dress?” He asked her, pressing himself fully against her and grinding his hips into her crotch. “The flimsy fabric you typically wear makes you practically naked, which I often love. But you're not actually nude, which can make things frustrating, as you can feel.”

Indeed, Alyssa could feel his manhood through the thin fabric of the white dress she wore, it throbbed through his own trousers and sent her into a flush.

“Do you want me?” He whispered into her ear, his hot breath making her wetter.

With a heavy swallow she nodded, and Donovan grinned and reached for the straps of her dress and pulled it apart with a hard ripping sound.

Her hands instinctively tried to cover herself, but he used one hand to grab her wrists and pinned them above her head. She could feel his long fingers twist down her skin and tightening around her joints, locking her into that position.

The now tattered dress fell to the floor as he snaked his massive hand down between her legs and pressed his entire palm against her dripping pussy and tapped lightly against her folds. She groaned at the gentle touch, hoping for him to pressing rougher.

“Do you want it rougher?” He said to her. “Do you want my fingers to treat you mean?”

“Please!” Alyssa cried. “Take me, open me and use me as you please!”

Donovan pushed his fingers inside her and kissed into her neck, teeth grazing her skin and his tongue working around her neck and squeezing, not to strangle her, but to feel her heartbeat against one of his most sensitive appendages.

She loved the way that his long fingers reached inside her in ways no one else could, and she groaned out in pleasure as he felt around inside her.

“Take me with your cock,” she moaned out. “Fill my cunt with your barbs and never let me go.”

“Sheepy, earth to sheepy!”

Honey snapped the book closed, her face aflame and legs squirming slightly as she pressed the book against her chest. She looked up at the sight of Doctor Keigo looking down at her with a smirk on his face.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked.

She winced and stuffed her smut back into the little pocket of her wool.

When she went over to Doctor Keigo's office for her checkup he had said it was okay for her to take the book she had been reading, and he once said as log as it kept her from being too nervous she could keep doing so.

They both forgot how much of a distraction her reading habits could be.

“I'm glad to know you're enjoying my gift,” the vet said to her as she turned back to him. “One person's trash really is another person's treasure and all that, still it'd be nice if you paid a pinch attention during your checkup.”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“No worries Sheepy,” he said. “Some people get sucked into it more than others. Now let me check your vitals to you can head back to the barn and finish that bodice ripper.”

He took out his stethoscope and began checking her heartbeat.

“It's a bit fast,” he muttered. “Though I have a good guess why that is.”

Honey stuck her tongue out at him, proof that she was getting more used to him and could be comfortable around with without fear.

“I know you first got into them for research,” he said idly. “You wanna get more ideas for how to better seduce the lads around here, most likely Shoto because you're more of a nightingale than a sheep most days.”

Honey pouted, he had insisted that before but she didn't think so. She didn't like him because he saved her or anything, she liked him because when she was scared and alone he was kind to her and made her feel like this new place was home.

That was completely different.

“I'm not a sexy cow,” she said. “I can't just make him suck my boobs the way he does with the cows, I wanna be able to walk all sexy and make him hard just as our eyes meet.”

Her fancy description and wistful tone made Keigo throw her a look, she really had been diving into those books a lot hadn't she?

“You really don't need at that faff to seduce someone, you know,” he said. “Men aren't complicated, and it's not like you've never screwed him before.”

“Well, yeah,” Honey admitted as she turned around and leaned over as far as she could without falling. “But I can barely ask for normal sex, what about that fancy sex I keep reading about and wanna try? The one where the princess was taken on the ship and tied to the mast, and the Octopus King saved her from the pirates and pleasured her while pulling the boat she was still tied to to his kingdom is still one of my favorites.”

Keigo paused in his checking of her spine.

“Was that was that one was about?” He muttered.

Honey ignored him and straightened herself back up, a few of her spinal joints popping as she stretched slightly.

“Is it so bad to wanna feel like a pretty damsel being rescued by her strong prince sometimes?” She asked, voice growing shy by her admission.

Keigo wrote something down on his clipboard with an amused sigh.

“Honestly considering what usually goes down around here that's probably pretty tame,” he admitted. “Stick your tongue out for me.”

She complied with each of his instructions and made a 'blah' to show him her tongue, checkups were kinda boring of she were being honest. Luckily only a few more things needed to be checked up on anyway, and he soon was able to finish things up with her.

“Alright Sheepy,” He said. “Everything looks to be in order her, you need me to escort you back to your pen?”

“No thank you,” Honey said. “I'm fine, goodbye doctor.”

“Next time I'll being you a series,” he said as she slipped out the door. “You're one of my most manageable patients, so I have to reward that somehow.”

He threw her a little wink and laughed at her flustered reaction, slamming the door behind her.

Doctor Keigo doing that always spurred her into a run, sprinting back to her pen where she could finish her book in relative peace.

The barn was usually pretty empty around this time of day, most of the other animals being milked or sheared or fucked.

Sometimes they fucked in the barn itself, but the hay had yet to be replaced and most of the hybrids preferred clean hay to roll around in.

Honey arrived at the barn hoping to find a bit of quiet, curl up under her blanket and read and get a few more ideas to become more confidant in herself. Sometimes she got so absorbed in her novels that she didn't even notice that sex was happening in the pen right next to her.

She didn't expect what she saw when she entered the barn made for the sheep to get to her pen.

“What?”

Amber eyes flashed at her as a stranger stared at her in silence.

A raccoon hybrid was rooting around in Honey's little pen and had strewn her novels all over the place, nearly all of them in tatters. Ripped out pages littered the floor and the cover of 'A midsummer night's cream' was sticking out of the raccoon's mouth as well as a few strings of the she's blanket.

Honey wasn't a violent hybrid by nature, in fact she was probably the least physically assertive (or any kind of assertive) hybrid in the the entire farm.

But when she saw what this stranger had done to her belongings and sleeping space something inside her snapped.

“NO!” She screamed, running towards the offending trespasser with her little hands in fists as she bounded over the fencing to get to her. “Get away! Those are mine!”

She tried to throw a punch at the raccoon, but was caught off guard by the little pest swiftly spinning around and swinging a knife wildly at Honey, slicing into her arm. A manic laugh erupted from her feral throat at her own actions.

But unluckily for the raccoon, Honey was loud when she was both scared and hurt.

She screamed as loud as she could, praying that someone could hear her, and she grabbed the raccoon by the roots of her scraggly blonde hair to make sure she couldn't escape. Another attempt to swing the knife resulted in Honey using her other hand to grip the grimy raccoon wrist in exchange for the blade nicking her skin.

“Geh!” The raccoon let out a harsh grunt as Honey pulled the sloppy hair. “Gedoffa me you stupid farmie brat!”

She pulled her arm away from Homey's losing her knife in the process, and swiped out at Honey's body, and the sheep was thankful for the level of wool she had accumulated because the claws protected her flesh from being sliced into.

Instead they tangled up into the wool itself which was less than ideal.

The pair of them ended up tussling amongst the scattered papers, with the raccoon trying to pry free from Honey and Honey herself trying to keep her in place despite the pain of her wool getting snagged.

Blood from her knife wounds trickled down her arm as the sheep hybrid tightened her grip on the raccoon's scraggly hair, one of the twin buns coming loose as she held fast.

It hurt really bad and she was scared out of her mind but she was too angry to let go.

The raccoon girl hissed as her claws managed to get free from the wool, tearing a chunk of it out in the process. She dug her hands into the arm that was grabbing at her hair and cause the sheep to let go.

“That's it!” The pest shrieked. “I'll teach you to mess with my rummaging!”

She drew her clawed fingers back and swiped at Honey's face, the sheep closed her eyes and braced for impact.

A sudden clang interrupted the pain and she felt herself get pulled away.

She blinked in confusion before realizing that she was in Shoto's arms, one hand wrapped protectively around her while the other held held a large empty bucket.

The raccoon was doubled over, clutching her head.

“Shoto!” Honey breathed.

“Damn you!” The raccoon cried out. “Don't interfere you asshole!”

Shoto looked like he was going to swing his bucket again, but something stopped him. A rush of air from above as something else literally flew into the barn and landed atop the fencing of the pen.

The barn owl hybrid Shino stared down at the scene with fury in her eyes.

The raccoon stared back.

“Well shit.”

Shino let out a screech, spreading her wings to their fullest and causing the raccoon to let out a shriek and turned around to run, but Shino was faster. The owl hybrid was on her in a second, pinning down her prey with her mighty talons.

The raccoon could only kick and scream as she was held fast.

Honey stared in awe at the sight of how easily Shino had apprehended that horrible raccoon, and made a mental note to thank her in some way once everything was set back to normal.

Glancing at the tatters of her books below, she wondered if she could make a flower crown out of the papers for her. She'd look super pretty with one, not that she didn't look pretty already.

At the barn doors many cows gathered to try and take a peek at what had happened, the heifers who could see the mess whispering to the cows in back and sending the whispers of gossip throughout them.

A few of the cows could see that Honey was bleeding, and that only got them more abuzz with interest. Shoto ignored them in favor of putting his bucket down and checking up on the little sheep in his arms.

“Thank you,” Shoto said to Shino. “I was afraid I'd have to hold it off myself.”

“No problem, I'm just sad I didn't catch her earlier. Hey! Quit kicking,” Shino snapped as other farmers and hybrids arrived at the barn to see what the fuss was about. “Don't make me rip that nasty head of yours off.”

While Shino was threatening, Iida barged in, pushing past the gossipy cows and taking a look at the situation in all it's chaos. When his eyes fell on the raccoon hybrid beneath Shino he actually recoiled at the sight of her.

“What on earth is she doing in here?” He asked. “How did she get in?”

“Maybe we can get the details out of her later,” Shoto told him. “Right now we should take care of Honey.”

He looked over her and took stock of the injuries she had sustained in her scuffle. All of a sudden the gravity of what had just happened hit her like a ton of bricks, the pain of her wounds coming to her now that the adrenaline was wearing off. She threw herself deeper into Shoto's chest and let out a tired sob.

“I'll take care of her,” he said to Iida. “You take care of that thing.”

“Bring her here Todoroki,” A voice said, silencing the gossiping cows. Doctor Keigo walking inside with a medical kit at his side and Izuku trailing behind.

Shino's feathers puffed up in irritation at the sight of Keigo, but given the situation she didn't move from her grip atop the intruder as he stood just outside the pen.

Keigo kept his distance and gave a nod to Izuku, who approached with a long pole with a looped steel cable.

Izuku quickly looped the snare around the raccoon's neck, only giving Shino the okay to let her up once he was sure it was secure.

“Keep one talon on her,” Keigo advised. “Take her to my office and don't take your eyes off her for a second. I have a friend who can make sure she isn't diseased and take her back to wherever she came from.”

It was clear that the great owl Hybrid wasn't keen on going to his office, but since he seemed to be staying behind to take a look at her little sheep friend.

Only slightly reluctantly, Shino and Izuku led the raccoon, who had begun laughing like a lunatic for some reason, and the onlooking cows hooted jeers and jabs at her.

“Now now!” Iida shouted at the crowd of hybrids looking on. “Nothing to see here everyone, go back about your day, unless you would like to help clean this mess up!”

That made them scatter, most back to their milking or fucking.

“I'll cover you for today,” Iida said to Shoto. “You make sure she's alright, I know she likes you best so it'll be quickest if it's in your hands.”

The way his face pinked a little bit told Shoto all he needed to know about where his mind was at as he walked outside where the remainder of the cows were waiting for him.

Not that either of them were complaining.

Setting her down, Shoto took Honey's sliced up arms and winced at the sight of them. He hated the sight of anyone on this farm hurt, and reaching for the medical supplies that Keigo placed nearby he carefully got about disinfecting her injuries.

She winced at the disinfectant rubbing into her wounds but remained still so Shoto could do his job. Once he was done he pressed his hand to her cheek, which she leaned into and kissed his palm.

Nearby, Keigo was examining the knife that had been used to stab at Honey.

“Looks like she swiped this from somewhere on the farm,” he said. “That means it's not likely to have any diseases on it, so that's a bit of good news here. I'll take a blood sample just in case, but I don't think you have anything to worry about, especially since you've been given shots to prevent this sort of thing.”

“That's good,” Shoto said as he bandaged up her injuries. “You've been really brave so far, can you hold still so he can do that?”

She nodded, but leaned into Shoto's chest anyway as Keigo pulled out a hypodermic needle and drew closer. No one liked needles on the farm, but she knew better than to kick up a fuss about it after everything and let him draw a bit of blood.

Once he had taken his sample he stood up so he could head out to get it checked out.

“I'll leave it to you two then,” he said. “You kids play nice.”

Shoto ignored him, and the joke flew over Honey's head as she looked at the mess made of her pen. He laughed as the barn doors closed behind him and left them alone.

Honey sighed sadly as she bent down to pick up the destroyed books that were scattered around her pen, the sadness of losing them creeping back to her.

“I can't believe that horrible thing destroyed all my books,” she said sadly. “I loved them all and now they're ruined. I might be able to figure out how to make the scraps into something pretty, but it's sad that I won't be able to read them anymore.”

“'Tonio gazed into Angelica's eyes and gave her full rump a squeeze, causing a grunt to erupt from her throat. He wanted to make that sound fill his mind forever, and he had just in instrument to do so.'” Shoto read from one of the papers, his eyebrows raising with each word. “This is some intense stuff, you know.”

Honey flushed and tried to grab at the papers, but he snatched it out of her reach with a teasing grin.

“Were you hoping to get some ideas?” He asked.

She was about to deny it, but she realized that the look in his eye was a chance that he was giving her. Honey swallowed and said the first thing she could think of.

“So what if I was?”

That was all he needed to hear.

Shoto pressed a kiss to her forehead, then another above her eye, and her nose, and finally to her soft lips.

She hummed into his kiss, feeling everything around them melt away. Her mouth opened instinctively and allowed him to push his tongue against hers as he gently guided her backwards until her back hit the pile of hay in the corner.

His hands ran across her soft body, fondling her chest as he kissed her and traveling lower and lower. One hand hooked under one leg and hitched it up to allow better access to the lovely pussy that was aching for him.

She moaned into his mouth as he fingered at her delicate clit, rubbing small circles into it with her thumb as his fingers probed her sloppy little hole.

Honey's hands gripped around his neck and pulled him closer to her, as close as they could possibly manage. He took the chance to nip at her neck, at that spot he knew drove her crazy as his fingers pumped in and out of her and curled his fingers just so, making tremors shake her body as she spilled over his hand.

“You,” she panted. “You were like my knight in shining bucket.”

That made him laugh against her neck, his teeth scraping against her skin and savoring the feel of her pulse beneath his tongue.

He wanted to make sure she was completely ready for him, loosening her walls so there wouldn't be any pain. She's already gone through enough after all.

After another few moments, he pulled his fingers out of her and reached for the fly of his pants.

“I'm you're knight eh?” He muttered as he fumbled with the zipper. “In that case...”

The sounds she made had made him achingly hard, and he could tell she had been thinking about his erection for a long time as he freed it from it's confines. She looked hungry for it, as much as he was for her.

“Allow me to claim my reward from the lovely maiden then.”

Honey felt like Princess Stella from one of her favorite novels, and she bit her lip in anticipation as her legs spread more, as much as she could manage.

Shoto ran a hand along her thigh, gentle and loving.

“Well then, are you ready for me?” he whispered into her ear. “Ready for your knight to take you?”

“Please,” she moaned. “Oh please fuck me, I can't wait anymore.”

Shoto gripped her legs and spread them as wide as she could comfortably manage and pressed his length into her aching pussy with a groan, the wetness from his earlier treatment allowing him to slide in until he was balls deep.

They both let out guttural moans that were practically in harmony.

“You alright?” He asked, not moving an inch until he was sure she was good about it.

She was stuffed so full of him that all she could do was nod, allowing him to pull away from her and slam back inside against her cervix, making her head fall back with her tongue lolling out of her mouth as he fucked into her until she could barely think straight.

“Oh god,” she moaned, bouncing against his relentless pounding. “Oh yes, please yes! More, please.”

The panting she made and the bounce of her breasts against his pounding only spurred him on further, and he repositioned her legs further until they were pushed up against her ears. It felt like heaven for both of them as fucked deeper into her.

Honey was on cloud nine, only able to think of the sensation of the man above her rearranging her insides. She reached a trembling hand down to where the pair of them were connected so she could continue at her clit. The sight was too delicious and Shoto felt the pressure building up inside him reach a peak, but he did everything in his power to hold off as he mercilessly pounded away.

The two of them filled the air of the barn with their gasps and moans until Honey began to feel her orgasm reach a boil.

“Please,” she panted. “Cum, I wan' cum. Come inside me, please!”

Her begging was enough to push him further towards the edge, and she felt the tension inside her was wound tighter and tighter as he hammered into her even harder.

It was impossible to tell how long they went on for, until a wave of bliss crashed over her with a loud cry. Her back arched sinfully and her walls clamped around his length and triggered an orgasm of his own.

He pressed against her as he emptied his load inside her, filling her up with his cum.

Bliss.

The pair of them panted against each other, their high winding down but they didn't dare move or the feeling would dissipate quicker.

Shoto pressed a kiss to Honey's neck after a moment.

“Good girl,” he panted.

Carefully he pulled out, watching as a few dribbled of his seed spilled from her. She looked up at him with a smile and longing in her eyes.

“Shall we clean up now?” He asked.

“Let's wait just another moment,” Honey said. “This feels too nice.”

He smiled, Iida had told him to take care of her after all. This was all part of the job and who was he to go against his orders?

And she was so soft and perfect to snuggle up with.

It wasn't until an hour later that they were able to get themselves to clean up the pen, saving the paper so Honey could make a lovely crown of paper flowers for her other hero.

She was sad to see her lovely stories go, but considering the fallout she could deem the acceptable losses.

Besides, between doctor Keigo and other farmers hearing what had happened, she soon had more than enough donations to replace it with.

[chocolatecarstairs]

julie and the phantoms: holiday special!!!

halloween:

julie begs the boys not to do anything stupid before they’re set to play her school’s halloween party but of course they don’t listen

they go hard haunting bobby and carrie (originally it was just supposed to be bobby but carrie was right there and luke has never liked the way she treats julie), they help carlos egg the house of a bully at his school, and they spend a ridiculous amount of time ding-dong-ditching people and stealing candy they can’t eat

for their set alex dresses as a ghost because he loves the irony. reggie goes as han solo (OUT OF RESPECT, LUKE, RESPECT FOR THE DEAD. reggie, man, we’re dead.) luke goes as KISS, which weirds out half of julie’s school but they don’t ask many questions, they just figure it’s a swedish thing. julie and flynn pair up to go as an angel and a devil (flynn is the devil, julie is the angel), carrie is a space cowgirl ofc, and nick’s costume has something to do with a fedora ??? but nobody is really sure what he is

the band does a sick cover of the monster mash and the boys spend the rest of the party pranking half of julie’s school while they’re invisible

afterwards, julie and the boys have a movie marathon in the garage. alex begs for a horror movie so they watch the exorcist. or at least, the first twenty minutes of the exorcist. luke can barely look past julie’s shoulder and reggie’s whimpers become too annoying. instead, they watch hocus pocus (the boys remember seeing it in theaters together when it first came out) and then marathon all the halloweentown movies, luke’s newest post-death obsession. julie has to try her hardest not to eat all of the candy the boys stole, even though the assured her they were fine with it 

luke and reggie are still giant babies about the exorcist, so they get to sleep in the middle while julie and alex get the outside of the blanket/sleeping bag/pillow fort they’ve set up. reggie cuddles up between alex and luke while luke falls asleep with his head in julie’s shoulder.

thanksgiving:

the boys aren’t the most thrilled about this holiday. they can’t eat and it was always so family-oriented, but julie is determined to make it as fun as she can for them. she sneaks around the week before, trying to casually interrogate the guys about each of the others favorite thanksgiving traditions

reggie and his dad used to watch the football game together every year, so julie makes sure there is a spot open on the couch next to ray as gets the tv on

she lights a cinnamon bun candle in the living room and watches the macy’s thanksgiving day parade with alex, because his mom used to make cinnamon buns for him and his sisters when they watched it together every thanksgiving morning

she gets the guys together in the backyard after her dad and carlos fall asleep to play a game of touch football, just like luke used to do with all of his cousins at his grandparents house every year

they make little hand turkeys in the studio like julie and carlos used to do with their mom and hang them up amongst all the others

they sit up late in their remade pillow fort, talking about what they’re thankful for

luke’s is the ability to perform again and julie bringing them back for a second chance

reggie’s is hanging out with ray and finally getting to catch up on star wars (even though they killed han solo)

alex’s is coming back to “life” to find people who love him for who he is and who accept his sexuality without hesitation

julie’s is that her mom brought these dorky guys into her life, giving her a new family and the ability to play music again

they all fall asleep in their fort, curled up on blankets and pillows, talking about their favorite thanksgiving foods

christmas/hanukkah:

reggie is jewish, so julie enlists flynn’s help to set up a menorah in the garage and to properly teach her about the traditions. 

reggie teaches the band the history behind the holiday and even a little hebrew as the light the candles each night.

he visits his brother and watches his nephews open their presents and play together.

it takes a few days of luke’s bad mood for julie to realize that he spent his last christmas - the last one he was alive - alone in her garage, so she’s determined to make his first one as a ghost as special as possible.

she enlists alex’s help and gets him to poof into luke’s parents house to swipe a few of his favorite ornaments from the tree to surprise him with

she strings popcorn and cranberries and gets the guys together to decorate a christmas tree in the studio, they pile it high with tinsel and homemade ornaments and alex even poofs into his parents garage to grab his old gold star to top the tree with

decorating quickly devolves into them throwing the extra popcorn at each other and julie is pissed that it hits her but goes through the guys like nothing. if she can touch them, whatever she’s throwing should be able to too

she plays christmas carols in the studio 24/7. alex complains LOUDLY and reggie sings along to every single song. luke likes to pretend he’s too cool for carols (they’re not rock, julie) but she catches him humming frosty the snowman or deck the halls whenever he think nobody is paying attention

the band decides to exchange homemade gifts (julie isn’t entirely sure how to ask her dad for the money to buy gifts for her three ghost friends and in alex’s own words “we died eating street dogs out of the back of a car julie, we’re broke. and it’s not like we can just waltz into a store and pick you out a perfume anyways. we’re invisible.”)

luke writes julie a song, he finally learns the chords to home is where my horse is for reggie, and he tie-dyes alex a new tshirt

alex enlists julie’s help (which eventually turns into julie enlisting her dad’s help) to make a cassette of their songs for luke’s walkman. he borrows flynn’s cricut to make reggie a “han solo lives on” tshirt. and he gives julie a pair of vintage sneakers he snags from his parents garage. something his older sister had saved up for MONTHS to buy back in ‘89 

reggie makes alex some homemade pins for his fanny pack. he gives julie some homemade stickers to decorate her mic and her keyboard with. and he spends some serious time doodling sunset curve/phantom drawings onto an old guitar strap for luke

julie digs through her moms chest to find more sunset curve merch and uploads their songs to spotify from their cd. she writes a duet that she gifts to luke (though since it was written for both of them, she isn’t sure it counts as a gift, even though his face lights up when he reads it.) she gives alex one of her dads vintage bomber jackets, which she spent an afternoon pressing the band’s logo onto the back of with the help of flynn’s cricut. she sets up a movie night for reggie, where they watch every star wars movie ever made and she lets him cry as long as he wants over how terrible han solo’s death it and the travesty that is jar jar’s character 

they spend new years at the beach, cozied up on blankets near the water, strumming guitars and playing music just enough for the boys to be visible occasionally. they watch the firework show happening over the pier and spend hours talking about their hopes for world tours and record deals. they’re happy. they’re together.

[preciouspeterbparker]

i wish i were, part 2

link to part 1

summary: it’s tony’s 18th birthday

warnings: non-con voyeurism, underage masturbation, underage sex, step-sibling inc*st, angst, fluff (can you believe it???)

word count: 3.3k

feedback is always welcome and appreciated!

enjoy!!

-bloo 

The sharp sound of knuckles on a wooden door, accompanied by a sweet, loving voice he’s known his whole life. "Good morning, sweetheart." 

Peter rouses from his sleep, grumbling at the soft yet incessant knocking on his door. He blinks blearily in the direction of the voice before burying his face in the warm spot on his pillow. "'M up," he croaks, clutching the comforter closer to his chest. "Just...just four...mmm...four more minutes…"

"Peter," comes Mom's soft chuckle as she enters the room. Her slippered feet shuffle along the floor as she makes her way over to the bed. Her fingers card gently through Peter's slightly sweaty sleep-mussed curls. "You wanted me to wake you up a bit early this morning, remember?" Maria laughs again at the grumbling that leaves the teen's mouth in response. She leans down to press her lips to the side of his head in a kiss. “You wanted to help make Tony’s birthday breakfast,” she reminds him gently. 

“Yeah, I know,” Peter yawns, wriggling under the covers for a minute before pushing himself up into a sitting position. The comforter falls to his lap as he stretches, extending his arms in the air above his head and rolling his bare shoulders. “Did we decide what we were making? Chocolate chip waffles? Or blueberry?” 

“Well, I was thinking chocolate chip. But your father,” she says pointedly, as if Richard can hear her from where Peter knows he’s sitting in his armchair with a mug of coffee and staring blankly into space, “forgot to get them when he was at the store. So, how about we go a little crazy and use M&M’s, hmmm?” Her hands go out in front of her in a ‘ta-da’ motion, hazel eyes twinkling playfully. 

Snorting, the teenager climbs out of bed, adjusting the black joggers slung along his hips. He snags a random t-shirt from his dresser and pulls it down over his head. “Sounds good, Mama.” Peter gently bumps up against her affectionately as they leave his room, heading down the hallway and taking the stairs down to the kitchen. 

“Hey Dad,” Peter grins at his father, who is indeed zoned out in the living room and jumps a bit at the sound of his voice. Typical. 

Richard rolls his eyes at Peter’s giggling and sends him a smile. “Morning, Pete. Morning, honey,” he adds on when he sees Maria descending the stairs behind his son. He gets up to follow them into the kitchen, standing behind his wife and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And where’s our legal adult? Already out buying lottery tickets and cigarettes?” He gulps down a sip of his coffee and takes a seat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. 

“Hush, Richie,” Maria chides, pulling her blonde hair up into a bun and grabbing her apron from its hook by the pantry. “You know Tony’s never up before ten on a Saturday, at least not of his own volition.” Reaching into the cabinet above the stove, she pulls down the flour and baking powder. “Punkin, can you get the eggs and vanilla, please?” 

The teen hums in assent, pulling the carton out of the fridge and sidestepping to the pantry where he narrows his eyes at the racks on the back of the door that are filled with bottles of different spices and seasonings. “I don’t see vanilla,” Peter mutters under his breath. There’s almond extract, peppermint extract, lemon... “Mom, I don’t- Oh, nevermind, found it,” he exclaims with a flourish, brandishing the small red and white box in the air. 

Warm conversation and the sounds of cooking fill the kitchen as Peter and Maria make breakfast, Richard chiming in from his perch at the island. Soon, there’s a large stack of rainbow-spotted waffles on a platter, laid out on the table with whipped cream, dishes of cut up cut up bananas and strawberries, and a bottle of chocolate syrup. 

Richard gets up to pull some plates out of a cabinet and brings them over to the dining room table along with four sets of silverware. “Peter, will you go wake up your brother? Bring him down so we can sing. And eat, these waffles look amazing.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Dad.”  Peter heads upstairs, passing his room and the bathroom before stopping in front of the door that’s across from his. “Tony?” He taps his knuckles on the wood a few times and waits until he hears Tony’s mumbled greeting. Smiling softly, he twists the knob and pushes the door open, leaning on the jamb as he does so. “Wake up, T,” he sing-songs, “it’s time for your birthday breakfast.” He curses the butterflies that have become active and hopes that he looks more casual and less obvious than he feels. 

Peter’s breath catches in his throat once the door is fully open and Tony’s in his line of vision. The now-eighteen year old is sitting up in his bed, lit up by the morning sun shining in through the window on the opposite wall, comforter pooled around his waist. His dark hair is rumpled and wild. Peter fleetingly wonders if that’s what it would look like if he were to run his fingers through it, if he were to pull at it while-

“Mmm, g’mornin Pete-squeak. I was getting ready to come down. Smells so good it woke me up.” Tony raises his arms above his head, stretching, and thrusts his hips up a bit as he curls his bare back. Heat blooms in Peter’s gut at the way his older brother’s muscles shift under his tanned skin, at the thatch of hair under his arms, and it intensifies when Tony’s legs shift as he changes his posture to an arch, dislodging the covers. 

Peter tries his best not to stare at the line of dark hair that goes from Tony’s belly button down into the front of his gray sweats. He’s- fuck, he can see the thickness of Tony’s cock pressed up against the fabric. Fuck, Tony's gotta be at least half hard… Or, God, is he that big soft?

He concludes that the latter must be the case, because Tony slides right out of the bed and shuffles towards him without an ounce of shame. His hand lands on the top of Peter's head, ruffling the already messy curls in his signature move. Peter wrinkles his nose, and almost ducks away from the touch before remembering to take what he can get when it comes to the feeling of his brother’s hands on his body.

"Let's go Pete-squeak, 'm starving." Tony lumbers through the door after grabbing a black t-shirt shirt off the floor and yanking it down over his head, and Peter follows dutifully behind him, the two making their way down the stairs. So what if his eyes are on Tony’s ass the whole way down.

Maria and Richard must have been listening for them, because it seems that the two immediately start singing from their places at the dining room table when they hear the boys reach the landing at the bottom of the stairs. 

Tony promptly rolls his eyes at their parents, but Peter feels himself go a little hot when he notices the pink tinge that spreads over his brother's cheeks. There's a shimmer in Tony's eyes and Peter thinks, not for the first time, that his brother is kind of sickeningly beautiful. He takes a seat across from Mom at the table, Dad to his right and an empty chair to his left. 

“Oh, Tony,” Maria coos once they've concluded their slightly off-pitch rendition of happy birthday, her own eyes shimmering with tears. She wipes them away with a sniffle. “My baby, I can’t believe you’re eighteen! Feels like just yesterday I was bringing you home, all eight and a half pounds of you!"

Tony makes eye contact with Peter before sitting down next to Mom and Peter, across from Dad. “Relax, Mama,” he chuckles, already reaching to stab three waffles with his fork and pile them onto his plate. Once he’s made his (nearly overflowing) plate, everyone else follows suit. “Thanks for making breakfast Mama, you too Pete. Thanks for...offering moral support while they cooked, Pop,” he grins at Richard, making Peter snort. 

“Got any big plans today, sweetheart?”

“Not really,” Tony says around a mouth full of waffle, chocolate, banana, and whipped cream. The groan he lets out is absolutely indecent- or maybe that’s just the way it sounds to Peter as he tries to inconspicuously shift in his seat. “Fuck, these are so good, Momma.” Tony’s eyes are closed, so he definitely doesn’t notice the way Peter’s pupils are blown, nor does he see the long-suffering side-eye he knows both parents are throwing at him for his language. 

 “Well,” Maria continues, taking a bite of her own waffle, “I’m sorry Dad and I are busy, but we’ll all go out for dinner tomorrow night, how’s that sound?” 

Richard nods in agreement, taking another sip of his coffee. “We can go to that Mexican place downtown you guys love so much.”

Tony bobs his head as he chews, reaching over to flick Peter’s ear. “No problemo, I was thinking maybe me and Pete-squeak can hang out today, anyway. And yes on dinner.”

Peter squawks around a mouth full of waffles, swinging his leg out to kick the brunette in the shin, ignoring Dad’s muttered “No violence at the table please, boys”. He screws his face up in mock indignation. “What makes you think I’m not busy today?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Are you?” The he says it and the twinkle in his eyes feel like a challenge but-

Taking another bite, Peter shakes his head. There’s no use trying to deny it when he purposefully kept his schedule clear for the day in hopes of spending it with Tony. “Nope. I’m all yours.”

*

Tony notices the way that Peter looks at him sometimes, he's not stupid. He just chooses not to acknowledge it. (Well, admittedly, first he noticed the way Peter was around Pepper. His little brother has never been particularly comfortable around people who weren’t family, but this is different. He’s noticed the way that Peter makes himself scarce whenever he invites his girlfriend over (which, to be honest, he usually appreciates because who wants their sibling around when they’re trying to make out with their partner??), or the way he goes quiet whenever she’s brought up in conversation.) If Tony doesn’t acknowledge it, then he doesn’t have to think about the way it makes him feel, the things it makes him think. 

And it works, for the most part. They spent the day binge-watching superhero movies on the couch, dozing off and on. Mom and Dad still weren’t home at dinner time, so Tony had suggested they make spaghetti, for no specific reason other than it’s the only thing he knows how to make. It was nice, jamming to 70s rock and singing along with Peter, talking about everything and nothing at all. They parked themselves back on the couch to eat dinner, choosing some random slapstick comedy on Netflix.

The movie’s over now and Peter just headed into the kitchen with their plates, claiming he had a surprise for Tony. The older teen leans back on the couch, stretching. He notices how dark it is; they’d turned the lights off once they finished eating in order to get rid of the glare on the TV. He debates getting up to turn on one of the lamps when he hears footsteps approaching. 

Peter comes out from the kitchen and walks towards the couch. He’s holding a cupcake in his hands, a red single red candle placed in the center of the blue frosting. There’s a square red-wrapped box tucked up under one of his arms. In the dim lighting that shines in from the kitchen, the small flame reflects in the depths of his brown eyes, face illuminated in the glow. “Happy birthday to you,” he sings softly, eyes trained on the cupcake rather than Tony himself. 

Tony’s suddenly struck with just how beautiful Peter is. He’s never really noticed it before (he has, but he’s been in denial for so long that he’s started to believe the lies he tells himself). His chestnut curls are strewn haphazardly on his head, and though he can’t quite make them out right now, Tony thinks of the freckles scattered over his cheeks and nose. 

“...Happy birthday, dear Tony, happy birthday to you,” Peter finishes, sitting down on the couch beside him. He holds the cupcake out towards his older brother. “Make a wish,” he smiles, shifting the present that’s fallen into his lap.

“Hmmm,” Tony breathes, carefully taking the cupcake into his own hands. “What to wish for,” he mutters playfully, smiling back at Peter. He thinks for a moment before closing his eyes. He blows the candle out without making a wish, but what Peter doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He sits the cupcake down on the coffee table before making grabby hands at the box Peter’s now holding in his hands. “What’s that, Petey?”

“It’s uh,” Peter starts, swallowing. “A camera?” It comes out sounding like a question. “I know you’re leaving soon, for college, and I just- For memories- I don’t want you to...forget me,” he finishes quietly. 

...Tony doesn’t know what to say to that yet he opens his mouth anyway. But before he can get the words out, Peter seems to catch himself and brightens up. 

“And I want you to take pictures of everything at MIT so you can show me when you come back to visit- I’ve never been away from home before, I want to see what it’s like, what kind of fun stuff you get to do. Get some ideas for when I leave, next year.”

Tony tries not to let his feelings show on his face, choosing to let Peter’s first comment go. He gently takes the box from his brother’s hands and unwraps it, pulling out the polaroid camera. “This is so cool,” he grins. “Thanks so much, Peter.” Bumping their shoulders together, he starts to fiddle with the settings. “Help me get it set up so we can take some pics.”

Peter’s grin lights up the room.

***

Peter knew it was too good to be true, that something wasn’t adding up. He didn’t get good things like this. He didn’t get to be happy like he was today. And he had been so happy, happier than he’s felt in months. 

He had deluded himself into thinking that Tony choosing to spend the day with him meant something special...now Peter knows better. He knows that he was just something to pass the time until Tony got to see who he really wanted to spend his big day with. He’d been caught off guard but honestly not surprised when the doorbell rang this evening, followed by Tony’s footsteps rushing down the hall and down the stairs, and he’d quietly closed his door at the sound of Tony’s breathy, excited, “Hey, Pep. Come on in, baby. Nobody’s home, just Peter.”

Just Peter. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? That’s all he would ever be, just Peter. 

Now Peter’s laying in bed, facing the wall that his room shares with Tony’s. His eyes are red and sore from crying, and his lips taste like salt from the snot and tears. There’s a pile of cold, wet crumpled up tissues touching his elbow, tucked up close to his body. He’s bothered by the sensation but not enough to do something about it. He doesn’t have the energy.

Blinking slowly and wincing, Peter unlocks his phone and squints at the bright light in the darkness of the bedroom. 10:47pm. He was crying longer than he thought, almost two hours. No wonder he feels so worn out. He can no longer hear the sounds of whatever movie Tony and Pepper were watching downstairs. He briefly wonders if she went home-

But then two pairs of footsteps are making their way down the hall, and one keeps going towards what he presumes is Tony’s room while the other stops briefly in front of his door. Peter quickly fumbles with his phone to lock it and make the screen go dark, jerkily pulling the covers up over himself to hide his body, leaving only the top of his head exposed on the pillows as he feigns sleep. He just barely makes it before his door creaks open slowly. 

“Pete? You up?” Tony’s voice is a whisper, and Peter desperately tries to control his breathing despite the way his heart is racing unsteadily in his chest. His performance must be convincing because a moment later his door closes softly and he can hear Tony’s footsteps leaving and then the sound of another door shutting. 

"Fuck." It's Tony's voice that Peter hears first. “Been missing you all day, Pep. Kept wishing you were here.” Though muffled, the words are pretty easy for him to make out; they must be on Tony’s bed. (For the first time, Peter wishes that their beds weren’t sharing a wall. He regrets rearranging his room last summer. The sounds he’s heard over the past months no longer seem worth it. He doesn’t want to hear this, whatever it is.) 

A feminine chuckle is what he hears next. “I just wanted you to be able to celebrate with your family. We’ll have plenty of time together in Boston.” Oh yeah. Pepper’s going to Boston too, attending Harvard rather than the engineering school. Peter tries really hard not to think about it, the amount of time they’re going to have alone together. “You’re leaving soon, and I know they’re going to miss you, especially Peter. He thinks you hung the moon, babe, it’s so cute.”

Peter tenses, and if he had hackles they’d definitely be up right now. He feels angry and attacked and seen in a way that makes him want to claw the skin off his body. His fists clench, nails digging into his palms and leaving crescent-shaped indentations in the flesh. 

“...Know what else is cute? You.” He can almost imagine Tony’s saying the words to him, instead. 

It’s quiet for a few moments and he foolishly thinks maybe they’ve gone to bed but then he hears the faint yet distinct sound of wet kisses, accompanied by choked off moans and whimpers. It feels like he’s gotten ice water dumped over him. He picks up on the quiet creaking of the mattress. 

Pepper, high pitched and breathy, trying to keep her voice down. "Tony, yes, yes, right there." More whining and groaning, then-

Then Tony. "Yeah, honey? Like the way I fuck so deep in your pussy? Can you feel me all the way back there?" Peter can’t help but get hard at the sound of Tony’s voice saying the words, even though his heart feels like a stone in his chest. He feels like he’s lost feeling in most of his body, only registering the throbbing in his groin and the tightness in his ribcage. He distantly thinks that he must be dissociating but, maybe not because he’s aware, he- "Love how you're so wet on my cock- so tight, baby, fuck."  

Peter shudders as he spits into his palm and shifts on the bed to turn onto his side. One hand snakes its way under the covers and into his boxers where his cock is rapidly filling out. He strokes himself to the quickening rhythm of the creaking and closes his eyes, trying not to picture what’s happening on the other side of the wall. It doesn’t work, but he doesn’t wipe away the tears that start to spill out from his eyelids. He’s close already, he’s so pathetic-

“Oh, fuck, Tony, please, gimme-”

“Mmmm, yeah baby- God, shit, I’m gonna cum, gonna fill you up- Fuuuck, fuck-” 

With a sob, he cums into his fist at the sound of his brother’s release, burying his face into the pillow to muffle his cries. Peter takes a shaky breath and shakes his head against the fabric to wipe the tears away as the sobs intensify, wracking his body. He's gasping for air that will never come.  

It’ll never be better than this.

[gotmeringinghellsbells]

Nervous Confessions

Fandom: Pokemon

Characters: Piers/Raihan

A/N: Probably a little ooc, but I’m out of practice for writing and want to pick it up again. A potential start to my au for these boys but yeah. Enjoy!

Summary: Raihan has a confession to tell Piers that could threaten their relationship.

Warning(?): Talk of sexuality and romance terribly explained by yours truly because..... emotions? Yeah um.... hi I’m a single, ace being. If curious about some of the mentioned sexualities and romantic identifications please look up meanings for yourself. 

_____

With summer approaching, a new season was about to beginning. Spirits were high, children from across Galar already selected and fitted for their official uniforms. Stakes were high and excitement was booming. The energy within Motostoke stadium was almost intoxicating, dizzying a familiar goth as he stood in one of the many entry ways down to the bleachers. 

Piers held the door frame to steady himself as he gazed upon the crowd. It was amazing what could change in four years. Leon stood proudly, presenting the Galar league to the children participating and the audience; despite the whole region knowing their names. 

Milo, Nessa, Kabu, Allister, Bea, Bede, Melony, Gordie, his own sister; he paused when he caught sight of Marnie. She looked so happy, smiling ear to ear as she held Morpeko in her arms. The two of them were waving to the roaring crowd, only to be pulled into another gym leader. Piers rolled his eyes as Raihan snagged her for a quick selfie with all the trainers in the background. 

There were just some things time didn’t change.

Standing to the side of the stadium, Piers let out a smokey sigh as he exhaled from his previously inhaled drag. His cigarette glowed brightly before he gave it a flick, sending the newly born phoenix to an ashy grave by his feet for the wind to blow away. “There you are,” a familiar voice boomed. Icy, blue eyes glanced up from their daze as tacky shoes appeared before him. “‘Bout time,” Peris sighed softly as he clipped the burning stick of paper and tobacco. Raihan made a face at the smell but approached the other none-the-less. “Ah, sorry to keep you waiting, love. Wanted to see how Leon was doing and take a quick selfie with Sword. She’s getting so big,” he stated like an aging parent. 

“Marnie too,” Piers hummed as he stood up and tried to crack his neck a bit. Raihan laughed a bit. “How long ‘til she’s your height now?” Piers paused after a soft crack was heard before shooting him a glare. “Ah, I’m just Joshin’ ya.” The taller finally latched his arms around the smaller and nuzzled into the messily bunned hair. “How was work,” Raihan asked as he continued to hold his partner of three years. “Took the day off to catch up with all the excitement,” Piers hummed as he nuzzled into the other’s scent. 

A bit musty from sweat that had cooled over the course of the day mixed with some of his favorite smelling cologne. It was soothing, comforting. “Ah, really? I’ve been trying to get you to break for months now but this is what gets your head outta that song book?” Peris shot him a glare from his chest; which from Raihan’s perspective just looked like a puppy pout. Before either the gym leader or musician could say anything, there was a low grumble heard from between the two. Raihan blushed a bit as Piers’ glare broke into a small smile. “Dinner,” Piers asked. 

“Walk and dine,” Raihan added to the offer. “It’s a gorgeous night.” Piers hummed. “Yeah, but the palace will probably be crawling with eager trainers.” Raihan hummed. “Alright, how about over by Hammerlocke, yeah? Kids can’t get in without all three gym badges and right now, the pokemon over there are probably too intense, right?” Piers gave a small nod after a moment of thought. “Well, let’s go then,” he said softly, attempting to lead the other off; but to no avail. “Actually, I was thinking we call a cab and enjoy the night sky from above before hitting it from below?” Piers gave a small nod of agreement as a small breeze caused him to move a bit closer as Raihan tinkered away with his phone to alert a flying taxi of their location for a pick up. 

The taller man merely pulled his lover in a bit closer before submitting the request and quickly striking a pose for a date-night selfie. It irked Piers, but he just hid his face in the other. His face was all over Raihan’s Pokegram, so what if he ducked away this time? Raihan clearly didn’t care. He never forced Piers to smile or pose anymore, just would take a bunch of pictures and post the most flattering of the two of them. 

“Date night with a babe,” Raihan said softly as he typed. “Don’t you dare,” Piers protested, only to squeak from a small squeeze to his side. Turning to look at the offending touch’s origin, Raihan’s hand merely rested against his side once more. He turned with a pout towards the other before gently, but firmly jabbing him in the ribs. Raihan jolted slightly before smirking. “Is that a challenge?” Oh hell no. “Not in public,” Piers hissed as he put his hands up as Raihan moved to pounce for the kill. The panic was soon killed as wind came crashing down on the two of them, a cab landing behind Piers. Looking up, the two were greeted with a friendly smile and wave. “Gym leader! Piers as well. Are you both looking for a ride,” the pleasant taxi driver asked. Piers blushed a bit and started to fiddle with his bangs, social anxiety getting to him. 

Raihan wrapped an arm around him with a thumbs up and a wink. “Yep! Taking the Mr. here on a nice date night. Any chance you could help with that?” Piers gently smacked at Raihan’s stomach. He was so open about everything! Raihan merely laughed as the cab driver hopped down to get the door. “Absolutely. It’s a beautiful night tonight. Where are you two looking to go?” “Eh, just over to Hammerlocke. But maybe, you could give a bit more of a scenic route?” Piers blushed a bit more, leaning more into the hold. “Why are you doing this,” he hissed out. “I said it was a special date night, right? Come on babe, you love looking at stars! “ He wasn’t wrong. 

With darkened cheeks and his head down, Piers headed for the cab. A hand was offered to help him up that he took hesitantly. “Thank you,” he uttered to the sweet older man who merely gave him a wink before seeing Raihan in. Shutting the door behind them, he looked back to the ordering customer. “Scenic route back to Hammerlocke, yeah? How about just a nice scenic route over Galar?” Raihan smiled. “Yeah, that would be awesome!” Piers merely leaned into his shoulder, moving his arm away from his side to get closer. “Alrighty then. You boys take it easy now. Corviknight and I’ll show you two the sites.” With that, he climbed back onto his pokemon leaving the couple be. 

As he departed, Raihan looked over the male snuggled into his side and merely held him closer with a smile. His stomach churned and heart tugged as his mind reminded him the point of all this. This was becoming a serious relationship. They were three years in to it, four years into a strong friendship. Both were built off of emotional trust and openness. He felt guilty hiding something like this from Piers but was scared of the outcome it would bring. “How was your day,” Piers asked sleepily as he took in the aforementioned soothing scent. “Ah, pretty dull. Not much going on besides the opening ceremony so I gave my pokemon a day to breathe.” “And your pupils?” Raihan nodded. “They had the option to train or rest today. I’ll check in with them tomorrow. It’s going to be crazy busy soon.” Piers nodded, remembering the chaos from his own gym leader days. 

“Wonder if any one will steal the crown from Sword,” he muttered. “Eh, we’ll see. Frankly, I’d like to take another crack at battling her.” Piers rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he muttered, snaking an arm around to gently hold Raihan. It was going to be quite a while before they got to do something like this again. Their only interactions would probably be rushed between making sure Marnie was taking care of herself and making sure this one was doing alright. “Hey, you don’t think I have a chance,” Raihan laughed. “No, you do. Just wish you’d ease up on your obsession with battle.” Raihan looked confused. “Huh?” Piers paused before sitting up some and shaking his head. “Ah… you just kind of go off about battling some times. Like when you tried to befriend me, all you did was keep dragging me into battles and complimenting me.” Raihan scoffed. “We hung out too!” “After said battles or because you wanted to battle me.” The taller pouted before rolling his eyes. “Fine, less battle talk and asking. Better?” Piers shook his head with a sigh. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” Raihan moved closer to hold him again. 

“Just, you get a little to into battle sometimes and that’s all that seems to exist to you.” Piers gently rubbed Raihan’s cheek as the taller man nuzzled into him. “Trying to defeat Leon for ten years only to be bested by a ten-year-old really shatters a guy, ya know?” Piers paused. Oh. He hadn’t thought about it that way. “Sorry,” he said softly as he was pulled in closer. “Don’t be. I do get a bit carried away in battle, I’ll admit it. But it’s my life, you know? I’ve come so close to beating Leon so many times in mandatory battles and off hand ones, but with Sword…. Hah, she puts up a challenge.

“He’s training her into quite the champion. I’ll give him that.” Piers looked up a bit confused by the last part but didn’t question it too much. “He’s a good chairman. Glad he’s treating Sword like a real kid, not a star child.” Raihan looked at him a bit confused before laughing. “Yeah, because you and Sonia scared him shitless his first day.” What? “How did we scare him,” Piers asked sitting up some to readjust. “Huh? Don’t you remember storming up to him and telling him off?” Piers thought a moment. “I’ve told him off a few times.” “Ah, well, allow me to jog your memory,” he said rather dorkily. Story time. 

“Basically, you and Sonia jumped on him about not making the same mistakes Rose did. About letting Sword come home and be part of a functional family and remembering she’s a child….. Not a walking advertisement as you said.” Piers thought a moment before nodding. “Ah, right. Thought he’d just brush me off though. Wasn’t he seeing Sonia at the time? Thought that’s what drove the point home.” Raihan made a face. “Yeah, not yet. But no, you both scared him. They started seeing each other a few months after. They lasted maybe a year? Not sure. She’s been with Nessa ever since.” Piers blinked. Normally Raihan told him all of media and regional gossip. Had he tuned this part out?

Probably, Piers didn’t care much for gossip. “As long as she and Nessa are happy, all that matters there.” Raihan nodded. “You didn’t think it was odd I kept inviting him to hang out with us,” he then inquired. “Not really. Your said to be rare rivals and best friends, right? Or at least th4e closest he got to a friend under that whack job’s rein.” Raihan made a face before nodding. “Yeah, well, you know…. wanted him to be happy too.” This was weird. “Why are you randomly bringing this stuff up?” 

Raihan froze. Should he tell him now? Probably not a good time considering their trapped in a small cabin. Piers can’t just leave. That would be so uncool to do to him. “Hey you two, the clouds are opening up. Take a look at the sky.” Ah, the voice of his savior. Raihan let out a sigh of relief as Piers glanced out the window. Raihan leaned forward eagerly. “Sure is beautiful,” he commented. “You bet,” the kind man said back. Piers merely smiled at the sight. Raihan moved closer to the smaller as they gazed into the brightly lit sky together. 

“There’s something just so soothin’ about the stars.” Raihan nodded as he moved in to cuddle again. Piers didn’t resist. He leaned back into the affectionate touch. “Babe,” Raihan said softly. “Hm,” Piers responded. “Do you like Leon? I mean I should have asked after I brought him around year two but….. are you alright with him?” Piers made a face as he turned to look at the other. “What’s with the Leon talk? Something wrong?” Raihan quickly shook his head. “No, no. Nothing’s wrong just….. curious, you know? I know you had some mixed feelings about him as a brother to Hop and his ego and all that but after getting to know him?” Piers shrugged. “It’s not like we hang out without you. What you see, I see.” 

Raihan sighed. “But do you like what you see?” Weird wording. Piers made a face. “I… guess? He’s always pretty nice to me and the kids so yeah. He’s alright. Wish he’d stop taking the problems of the region as if they're his alone to deal with but that’s something for him to work on.” Raihan smiled a bit too wide. “What?” The tallr froze. Whoops. “Ah, nothing. Just happy to hear you do like him.” “I would have told you if I didn’t,” Piers retorted as he looked back out the window. He smiled as he looked down over Turrfeild. Milo herding the Wooloo to bed with the help of his brother and some of his pupils. 

“Probably gonna stop by Milo’s tomorrow,” Piers commented off handedly. “Yeah,” Raihan asked, dying to just rip the bandage off right now. “Yeah. Might bring him dinner. He’s the first gym leader after all. Curry should be enough for him and his pupils right?” Piers turned, seriously asking Raihan his opinion. The other nodded. “Yeah but it’s supposed to be hot tomorrow. Maybe nothing too spicy?” Piers nodded. “Thanks,” he said softly. “Yeah.”

The rest of the ride was pretty quiet, just two dorky lovers staring in pleasant silence at the sky; cuddled into each other. It had been about an hour before they finally landed, Piers nearly being asleep. Raihan smiled before draping his hoodie over the smaller’s shoulders as the door opened to the cab. Piers once more took the kind, older man’s hand as he stepped down, thanking him once more. Raihan thanked him, taking a selfie with the three to compose for the night’s date. Piers felt it was over stepping but the pilot assured them it was fine. 

Finally stopping somewhere to get dinner, Raihan spotted a familiar figure. His window of time was coming closer to an end. Leon smiled, waving to the two of them before Sword dragged him off for their hotel to share the food with their pokemon. “He’s really her big brother now,” Piers commented as they stood in the pick up line. “Huh,” Raihan asked in panic before registering the words. “Oh. Yeah,” he laughed. Piers made a face. “Your doing it again,” he grumbled. “Doing what?” “Acting weird. Can you just tell me what’s going on already?” Raihan made a face before humming. “Maybe we could head back to my place rather than take that walk?” Piers nodded, just wanting the other to be honest with him already. 

The walk back was quiet, apart from Piers thanking Raihan for his meal. Entering the familiar home, Piers set his food on the counter before moving back to the door to hang the hoodie and his coat along with removing his shoes. He was dressed in a loose, thin, simple black stank sop and loose, dark shorts to match. He crashed on Raihan’s couch, taking his food with him as the other went to check on his beloved pokemon. His own were home, enjoying their day off. He made sure to feed them before he left. 

“You can turn on the television,” Raihan said, reaching for the clicker. “I want to talk first,” Piers stated, looking at him like an upset parent. Raihan retracted his hand before sighing. “Right, right.” “What’s been bothering you all night. Did you have a fight with Leon?” Raihan shook his head. How to say this without killing their relationship. “Um…. I’ve discovered somethings about myself over the last few years.” ‘Good start’, he thought, ‘weak delivery’. “You know, as we people do. We evolve and change with time.” Piers quirked a brow. “Why are you nervously stalling?” Raihan froze before feeling his eyes start to water. “Look, just give me a tick would ya? This is scary.” Piers sat up, placing his food down to face the other. 

Not once had the idea of them breaking up crossed his mind so far, just fear of the other’s well being. They had a relationship built on emotion and openness, so if Raihan couldn’t be truthful and open with him…. he felt maybe he, himself had done something to hurt Raihan. “Is…. this about my battle comment? I’m sorry Rai, I didn’t mean it like that,” Piers started to apologize. Raihan laughed, tearing up more. “No, no. Just, give me a minute. I can do this.” Piers nodded but offered a hand to hold nonetheless. The other shyly took it, rubbing his thumb across Piers’ boney knuckles soothingly. 

“So, I know you don’t look into, like…. sexuality and romantic terms but…. there is more than like gay, pan, bi, ace and straight. Like you are romantically gay but sexually ace.” Piers gave a weird look. “Basically you are romantically, or emotionally interested in a significant other but…. you aren’t looking to have intercourse with them. Like we’ve only really done fluffy, soft stuff for the last three years and it’s been great.” Piers narrowed his eyes. “So…. is there a problem with that or?” Raihan held his hand lovingly and shook his head. “No, no, no! Just…. Okay Raihan,” he sighed to himself. “Your being super uncool. Just rip the bandage off.” Piers cocked his head before seeing more tears form.

Damn it. 

He moved closer and just held the taller. “Whatever it is, it’s nothing we can't handle. Please, just calm down.” Raihan froze. The smaller held him firmly, hovering over his lap as he nuzzled closer into his scent. “I love you no matter what you identify as, if that's the issue. Just relax. You act like you haven’t told me about more personal things like bathroom problems.” Way to kill the moment. Raihan snorted, tears coming down his face. Piers frowned before reaching up to gently wipe the away before gently kissing each eyelid. 

Darker arms wrapped around his petite torso. Piers was trapped, Raihan’s face buried into his clothed torso. “Arceus, I don’t deserve you,” he whimpered. This caught Piers off guard. He gently started toying with Raihan's dreadlocks, humming and shushing soothingly as the other cried into him. Gently, he reached his free hand from Raihan’s shoulder and moved his hand down to the of the uniform he wore. Pulling it up, he watched as the shaking skin grew slightly bumpy from the new air hitting it. He played with the dark locks of hair for a little longer before moving the hand to hold up the shirt back and gently tracing his nails up and down the taller’s back. 

Raihan jumped slightly before nuzzling into Piers more, sniffles subsiding slightly. ‘This is super uncool of you Raihan! You act like you’ve never dated before! Man up, stop crying like a Sobble and just tell him!’ He shivered from the touch before mewling slightly. ‘But what if he leaves me? What if he takes this wrong?’ “Shhhh,” Piers uttered soothingly as he dragged his nails gently up and down the spine once more. “Just relax,” he cooed. ‘Well, I’ll just have to explain it so that Piers can understand!’ Raihan’s brain was racing back and forth as his stomach churned slightly with fear. 

As the sniffles stopped and Raihan lay motionless against him, Piers sighed. He moved to lower himself down to be level with the other for a proper hug. “Rai, relax,” Piers cooed again as he nuzzled into his neck. His nails gently traced up the back for the end, kissing the skin softly. Raihan was pulled out of his thoughts as his nerves reacted to the touch. His head popped out, letting out a sequel. Piers froze in alert before looking up at the other. He then smirked before filed nails started tickling his lower sides. Raihan screamed out before shaking his head squirming helplessly. 

“Ah, P-Piers sthahahaop it!” Piers smiled moving closer to his ear, easing the touch to hold him still for just a moment. “No more tears, yeah,” he asked softly, fingers moving slowly under his shirt, walking up his sides slowly to his ribs. Raihan squeaked, nodding as his face shifted to one of a smile with excitement. His stomach churns turned slowly to butterflies as his face heated up. “B-Babe,” he giggled. “Hm,” Piers hummed softly with a small smile. “Ah, ah wait. Hey,” Raihan giggled as his hands gently moved up to hold Piers around his waist. “Okay, okay,” he whimpered before bursting into soft, broken streams of giggles. “Nhahaope,” Riahan giggled out as he collapsed into Piers’ shoulder, just giggling his head off as Piers started scratching at his lower ribs. Piers just rolled his eyes, giggling softly himself. 

“Dork,” Piers commented lovingly as he started to slowly move his nails up each rib’s bump. Raihan jumped and jolted with squeaks and yelps off and on, just holding him. “You want me to stop,” Piers asked as Raihan seemed much calmer now. “A-Ah….. Not yet,” Raihan giggled out. “Yeah? Alright. Piers stopped for a moment before sitting on the far side of the couch and patting his lap. Raihan felt his face heat up more before he slowly, sheepishly moved to place his feet on the other’s lap. Piers looked a bit surprised. “You sure?” Raihan awkwardly nodded. “Okay.” He left the socks on, gently dragging his nails up and down his soles of each foot, watching as Raihan struggled not to rip his feet back. 

He held a pillow tightly to his chest, shaking his head frantically as he dug his heels into Peris’ thighs. “Shahahit,” Raihan squealed. The smaller winced slightly before sighing. “You alright,” he asked as the harsh pressure was starting to hurt. “Y-Yeheheheah! Ah, P-Piers,” Raihan squealed as the smaller grabbed the balls of his feet and started to scratch up and down a little harsher. The free foot quickly moved off of him to kick at the air as Raihan shrieked, jerking around in his seat. “Pheheheirs! Pheheheheirs! Ok-Okay! Whahahahit! Eeek!” The other stopped quickly, smiling softly. 

“Alright?” Raihan nodded, taking his foot back, laughing slightly still as he moved away from the other. “Thanks,” Raihan muttered softly as he curled up, slightly embarrassed. Peris smiled, moving to poke at his side. “Oh? Who said I was done?” Raihan’s blue eyes widened before he curled into the arm of his couch more. “Wait? What?!” He was giggling nervously as Piers smirked at hims playfully. “You heard me.” Oh shit. No, no, no! 

Raihan squealed before he jumped up. “Okay, I’m ready to talk,” he squealed out. Oh, right. Piers sighed as he stood down, giving a nod of truce before patting the cushion next to him. Raihan nervously took a seat, still holding his cousin before leaning into the other. Piers cleared the other’s face from tears before kissing his cheek softly. “What’s going on?” The other frowned before feeling his stomach churn again and eyes start to water a bit once more. 

“So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” he started again. “Okay,” Piers said calmly. “Do you know what like polygamy or polyamorous means?” Piers thought for a moment before slowly shaking his head. “I don’t think so? Why, what is it?” Okay, big reveal. Don’t be dumb, don’t be dumb! “I…. so I’m pansexual and romantic right? Well I’m also polyamorous.” Piers blinked. “What’s pan mean again,” he asked quietly. Raihan laughed. “Basically gender means nothing. I have no preference of genders, if I like you, I like you. Or that’s at least how I explain it.” Piers gave a nod. 

“So… polyamorous?” Raihan sighed. “I am capable of loving more than one person romantically at a time.” He watched as the life drained from Piers’ face. Quickly moving into damage control, he put his hands up. “Let me explain, let me explain! It’s not like that. I still love you! Hold on, hold on.” Piers gave him a look as if to say “get to the point”. “So there are relationships that exist that are composed of more than two people. Like a legit love circle type deal. I just… okay I don’t know how to explain this. One moment.” Piers crossed his arms and quirked a brow. “Are you…. leaving me or?” Raihan shook his head. 

“Look, I…. I don’t know how to explain this properly, so…. Hear me out,” he asked softly. Piers gave him a nod. “I’ve had a crush on Leon for…. a while.” Oh? Oh. Piers hummed, leaning forward. “So…. you wanted him to join our relationship which is why you’ve been bringing him around since him and Sonia split?” Yes and no. “I mean that wasn’t the idea but…. I can see why you’d think that but…. Yeah.” Piers sighed. “So you're asking to open the relationship or add to it?” “Add,” Raihan said, gripping the pillow tighter. He was so nervous. Piers made a face before sighing. “I don’t feel that way about Leon, and I doubt he feels that way about me but…. if you want, I don’t mind going on a date or two to just see how it goes.” Raihan gave a silent nod as he sheepishly looked over at the other. 

“Are you sure,” he asked Piers. “If your uncomfortable with this, I won’t pursue it.” Piers shrugged. “You’ve dragged him around with us often enough, it’s not much different.” He wasn’t upset, but was just trying to picture if he could develop feelings for the purple haired man. “Are you upset?” Piers shook his head. “Thinking,” Piers stated, reaching for his food off the coffee table again. “Now eat your food, it’s getting cold,” he muttered with a mouthful of food. Raihan smiled softly before receiving the clicker and moving to allow the other into his side. Piers moved close, snuggling into him as they turned on a cheesy movie to make fun of.

[h-a-d-i-t-h-i]

Someone is babysitting a little girl. But the little girl is a 300 year old vampire and the hole thing has more of a visiting a sweet old lady vibe.

Title: You Make Ends Meet Word Count: 1300 TW: Blood, vampires, drugs Summary: Riley makes $2000 for a weekend of work.

I’m good at making ends meet. I’ve got an apartment in Brooklyn that I share with three other people, but even then rent’s not cheap. I’ve got friends in high places that make it manageable.

One of them owns a bar that I pick up shifts at whenever they’re short-staffed - under the table kind of payments. Around Christmas, there’s always someone who knows someone who needs retail work, so I pick that up too.

Emily is the real moneymaker though.

She works in fashion and spends way too much time around rich people. Not Bezos rich. They’re not the kind of people buying boats on a whim, just the kind of people who throw out their clothes every year and think spending a grand on boots is a reasonable expense.

People like that need housesitters and dogsitters and babysitters and Emily knows how to wink and imply that an agency isn’t worth their time and she can find them someone better. I’m the something better, and I’m pretty sure that I’m not better. Doesn’t really matter. Money is money.

Emily hooked me up with babysitting someone’s eight-year-old for the weekend. It was an easy live-in gig with all the food I wanted in the house, a credit card to order out, and the sweet sum of two thousand dollars at the end. Which was weird. Even for rich people.

A few Zoom calls with the exhausted parents explained that Mary was precocious - which is one of those words rich people use when their kid sucks. That made things line up. I expected a little shrieking brat who’d spend the whole weekend throwing tantrums, demanding some weird takeout from some fancy organic place, and a neverending loop of her favorite Disney movie.

I walked in and found myself face to face with a little weirdo. She was too short for eight and had this round face thick with baby fat that would’ve made me guess five at most. She was a real pretty kid though - monolid eyes and tanned skin and a button nose that made her look like a doll come to life.

“Hey, Mary.” I dropped my duffel bag and crouched, hands on my knees in that way you greet little kids. “I’m Riley. It’s nice to meet you! Did your parents already leave?”

“I’m afraid so,” she said, with an accent out of Downtown Abbey. Her voice was smooth, none of the odd stutters and breaks for air most kids had. “Very rude of them not to say hello, but I can show you where everything is, dear.”

Dear. That was precocious. I followed her around on a tour, wondering if I had somehow signed up to babysit Benjamin Button. The apartment felt creepily still. The massive four-bedroom place felt like a set - the walls were cluttered with design, but nothing was out of place. Though honestly, that’s not weird for rich people either. They love to clutter a place up with stuff and pay a maid to fix it up for them - but even maids could only do so much with a kid running around.

But Mary was precocious, I guess. And, you know, at the time, I didn’t even notice that in all that decor none of those rooms looked like they were for a kid.

By the time we were back in the kitchen, I was focused on the fridge, looking at the emergency numbers and credit cards that were all stuck to the fridge with a magnet. I didn’t see Mary get on her tiptoes to snag a muffin off a tray in the counter, but she was pushing it up towards my face sure enough.

“Would you like a muffin?” she asked. “You look like you’re wasting away.”

I raised an eyebrow as I took it from her hands. Wasting away, alright. Off came the wrapper and I shoved a bite in my mouth as I kept reading. I nearly spit it out. 

There was sugar in it, sure, but there was also a strong, bitter, earthy taste that made me want to gag. That was how organic health nuts made their food. I’d had my fair share of skinny rich ladies insisting their carob avocado pudding tasted just like the real thing.

I choked down the swallow and set the muffin on the counter. “I’ll save that for later, Mary. I’m not hungry.”

“I’m starving.”

I took the plate of muffins from the counter. Fuck, it was heavy. Slick. My hands felt oddly slick on the clean, white ceramic. “There’s plenty,” I said, and my mouth seemed too small for my tongue. I felt the weight of it as it moved.

“Muffins are a sometimes food, dear,” she said in that sweet, oddly British voice. Her little hands reached out, taking the heavy plate from my hands. So fucking heavy. The room seemed to shift under my feet, my knees too weak to hold up my gasping body. My hand gripped the countertop, and it was shaking. Every finger trembling as the room tilted and tilted and slipped.

“I need more iron in my diet,” Mary crooned.

She looked so fucking weird. Hungry. And smart. Fucking precocious. I tried to move my mouth but the floor ripped up from under me. The tile under my feet become a wall, and I slumped against the counter. Slid to the floor.

Out like a light. ——- When I woke, I was on the couch. The big-screen plasma was tuned to the Gameshow Network, and I tried to focus as buzzers blared through the fog in my ears. My arms and legs were all heavy, numb. My whole body didn’t feel like mine, and I wiggled my toes and rolled my head with a sleepy snort.

My wrist was hot, but it was a nice kind of hot. When I looked down I thought there’d be a cup of tea, or a throwaway Starbucks cup, but it was Mary. Her hair was knotted in a bun, which was pretty cool for a kid her age to do all on her own. Her face was bent like she was kissing my arm. That was kind of weird for an eight-year-old, but kids mouthed stuff, sometimes. Maybe she needed one of those chew necklaces.

And then I thought “oh fuck that’s some blood”.

There was dark red trickling from my wrist, down my arm to the brown towel beneath me. Couldn’t really get my heartrate up to feel scared in the first place, but I sighed with relief anyway. “Dude, I could not have paid for this couch.”

Mary looked up, and as her lips left my hand they were stained dark red, shiny and wet with syrup-thick blood. There was a smear of blood on her chin, and my other fingers twitched to wipe it clean, but I couldn’t make them move. Oops. Bad babysitter.

She smiled, red-streaked on her teeth and tongue and she spoke, blood mixed with spit stretching in her mouth. “Don’t worry. It’s just the weekend. I’ll take good care of you, dear.”

I sighed, watched as she went back to my bloodstained wrist with small, childish sucks. Fuckin weird. Like being a wet nurse. Wet nurse to an eight-year-old. Rich people do that too - feed their kids milk until they’re twelve or some shit. My mind fuzzed as contestants on the screen shouted for no whammies. Colored lights flashed. I could fall asleep like that.

“Two grand’s a good price for blood,” I said, and it was. You didn’t get those selling platelets at the clinic. Two grand if I lived. That’d cover rent for a bit.

I closed my eyes with a little laugh and hoped Mary would let me have something that wasn’t a rancid organic muffin for dinner.

[griff-us]

Black Out Days | Chapter 2

Pairing: James Bucky Barnes/ Original Female Character.

Important Tags/Genre: AU-canon divergent, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Eventual Relationship, Depictions of Violence, Fluff, Angst.

Word Count: 2338

Summary: He is decommissioned; more out of a personal choice than from outside pressure. James wants nothing more than to live simply---considering the over complications and trauma of his one hundred and six years of existence. So, he leaves New York and settles in a small town off the coast of Maine.

And that’s when he meets her. An odd little bartender by the name of Honey. And that's when his life once again faces complications.

Authors Notes: I'm really just free-forming this from start to finish. Rather than writing about the events of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier I'm gonna focus on the in-between. The next chapter should be out in a week! Likes, reblogs are always appreciated, and if anyone wants to be on the tag list feel free to let me know! I'm also gonna make a master list before the next chapter comes out for my own sanity. Thank you all for the support so far!

Also on A03

84 Dive becomes a safe space for him--at least that’s what his therapist had informed him. James had admitted one day very casually over the phone that he didn’t understand why he kept going back. By all accounts the dingy dive bar was, well just that; graffiti scribbled all over the bathrooms---even the toilet seats. Stickers and posters from past bands and shows had begun to peel and wither away from the sickening, decades old paint that coated the walls. Not to mention the unruly regulars.

“You’re comfortable there, James. Just enjoy it.” That's what she had told him, and while he sits at the shoddy old bar he wonders briefly if it is the bar itself, or perhaps the scrappy little bartender that keeps him coming back.

“I smell smoke.” as if on cue, Honey appears, her many braids piled high on top of her head in something akin to a messy bun. James cocks his head, and she’s a keen one, having already picked up on his silent little quips. “You think too much, James.” she grins, hands busy hand drying the pint glasses that sit on top of the bar. He stays silent a moment, fingers flexing around his own glass. He can’t exactly get drunk anymore, but the act of having a beer or two after a long day feels---normal.

“Bucky.” he finally relents, and it's her turn to tilt her head. “Call me Bucky.” Honey beams at him, and nods.

“Alright, Bucky it is.” She tests the name against her tongue, and he finds himself wanting nothing more than to hear her repeat it. “M’ gonna be closing up soon, it’s a bit too slow to stay open. You’re welcome to hang around while I clean.”

He takes stock of the room and finds it empty--when had that happened? Flesh finger taps the cracked screen of his phone: 23:00. James doesn’t answer, but he stays put watching while she shuffles around behind the bar.

“You from this town?” shoulders roll while he leans back in his seat and Honey humms idly, as though she were debating on how to answer.

“No, I moved here about seven years ago.”

“Why?” the question slips out easily, suddenly. Honey pauses, and watches him from under long lashes while she hand washes the last of the shot glasses.

“You’re awfully talkative today.” James takes the moment to gulp down the rest of his beer. Lips smack, and he makes a point to unclench his jaw.

“My therapist told me I should talk more, make more friends while I’m here so--” he throws up a hand as if to say, and here I am.

“Bucky Barnes has a therapist?”

“Condition of my parole.”

She laughs, and it nearly knocks the breath out of him. It’s like wind chimes on a breezy summer day. And God damn if the way her entire face lights up, those dimples of hers making an appearance, doesn’t knock him down and out. James clears his throat, looks down at the chipped and cracked screen of his phone again.

“Sorry--” Honey simmers down, hands tuggin the white cloth from her back pocket to dry her hands. “--parole. Just, what a world we live in, yeah?”

“You’re telling me, doll.”

“Well, I’m all done here. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow night?” Honey skirts out from behind the bar, and he can’t help but watch as she rummages through the nearby supply closet to grab her backpack, and a change of shoes.

“Gonna be out of town for a little bit, actually.” James stands to follow her up the stairs and out the front door.

“A shame, who else will be around to keep me engrossed with such thrilling conversation?” he cocks a brow, eyes rolling briefly while she stifles another laugh.

“You say’n you’ll miss me?” Where the hell did that come from? He regrets the question as soon as it leaves his lips. Honey rolls her shoulders while she locks the door behind them.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” James calms his nerves and averts his eyes. There’s no one around, the street empty save for his bike, and then it hits him.

“How you getting home?”

“I walk usually.” Honey jerks a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of what he assumes to be her home. But he is having none of it. James tutts at her, and motions her toward his bike.

“It’s late, I’ll give you a ride.” gloved hands snag the helmet from his seat, holding it out to her. Honey looks him over, and then the bike.

“I don’t wanna take your helmet, what if you get hurt?” It’s his turn to bark out a laugh, and he notes the way her cheeks flush just so.

“Super soldier, doll--” he taps the side of his skull. “--remember?” Honey grins, and snags the helmet from his hands.

-----

“The hell are you looking at?” Sam’s voice yanks him back to reality, and irks him to no end all in one moment. James locks his phone screen, tucking the device in his pocket while shoulders press back further into the hard metal of the plane. Sam cocks a brow, as if to pester him further, and James is starting to regret forcing his way into this little operation.

“Don’t worry about it.” a beat of silence, and finally, he mumbles. “Look'n at instagram.”

He’d found her profile easy enough; people these days were easy to find on the internet, and always posting something. Her bio was simple: name, age, location, and the page itself was a few selfies, pictures of friends and food. It was cute, simple. Very---Honey. Her last post was what looked like a candid shot; as though someone had caught her mid laugh. She was at the bar, though not working; clad in jeans and a nice top, her hair split into two buns that sat perched on either side of her head. James could hear the sound of her laugh in the back of his head while he traced the curve of her cheeks with his eyes.

“Since when are you on Instagram?” Sam looks puzzled, and perplexed. Someone speaks over the intercom, a red light blares overhead. James stands and follows the other to the door.

“Shut up.”

-----------

“And you didn’t punch him?” she’s pours him another beer, and makes sure to set it down on the coaster provided. James had been gone nearly a week with Sam, and with the mess of everything that had happened he is more than happy to be back in his favorite dive bar.

“I figured I had probably broken enough laws already that day.” he plucks the glass from the bar top with gloved hands, and Honey shakes her head.

“Who would have thought John Walker would be such an ass.”

“Everyone.”

“And what kind of name is Battlestar?”

“Thank you!” James throws his hands in the air, still as irritated as he was when he first heard the ridiculous title. Honey chuckles some, surprised to see him so animated.

“Well, I’m glad you made it back in one piece.” James eyes flicker high, and she's staring at him so intently---the honesty in her tone is hard to miss. And he wonders, just for a second, if she had been worried while he was away.

“You never told me why you moved here.” he has to change the subject; brain moving a mile a minute with what ifs, and anxiety. He needs to ground himself in something other than his own mind. Honey quiets some, just as she had the last time, and as sigh slips past full lips.

“Oh you know. Moved out of my hometown to get away from my past. Wound up here, and just haven’t left.” James notes the way the honey in her eyes falters as she talks of home.

“I can relate to that.” a pause. “What happened?” Honey leans against the bar, elbow propped on top of it, pointed chin resting in the palm of her hand.

“A man.”

“Aren’t they the worst?” lips quirk into the smallest of smiles, as though he were trying to lighten the mood.

“You’re not so bad.” That throws him. Mouth opens as if to say something, anything, but his brain is blank and James is rushing to make sense of his cluttered thoughts. Honey watches him, a laugh bubbling forth and spilling from between parted lips. “Speaking of men, I need a strong one to help me with something tomorrow; think you're up for it?”

He’s thankful for the topic change, and James nods while he taps a finger against his glass.

“Sure can, doll, long as I can get another beer.” She plucks his glass from the bar top, a muted smile spread across her cheeks while she turns to pour him another.

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

“Could you have found a heavier couch?” Of course she needed help moving something; James can’t imagine the woman needing to ask help for much else. Honey had pointed out the antique sitting out on a curb only a block from her house. Just need to get it up one flight of stairs, she had said. James thought it easy enough, but he forgot how heavy and awkward old furniture could be.

“Are you complaining, Mr. Super Soldier?” Her voice rings like bells from the top of the stairs of her apartment building, and James grunts some while he readjusts the couch against his shoulder.

“Not really. You better have beer up there for something as payment or else I’ll have to bill you.”

“Oh, so you plan on staying for a while, Buck?” Her tone is light, teasing, and he can’t help the grin that splits his face while he lands the last step. They have gotten more comfortable with one another; comfortable enough to tease, flirt, and jest. It’s nice. To be comfortable around someone again.

“I’ll stay around long as you need me to, Doll.” he catches the flush that graces her tanned cheeks, and a lopsided grin splits his face. They stand there a moment in silence, eyeing one another before James finally clears his throat. “So uh, where is this going?”

“Oh!” Honey zips down the hall, beckoning him to follow while hands busy themselves with the contents of her bag. “It’s a little messy-” James slips through the open door all the while easily maneuvering the musty old couch along with him. “Right here--” Honey motions to an empty spot just under two massive windows and he deposits the piece of furniture with a thunk. James takes stock of the apartment; bigger than he thought it would be. The space bosat a decent sized kitchen, separate living area, and small hall he assumes leads to the bedroom.

“Hope you’re not allergic to cats, there’s one kicking around here somewhere. She’s a bit of a drama queen, watch out.” Honey meanders through the kitchen, and James can hear the clatter of her keys hit the counter. He pokes around the living room, impressed with the plethora of healthy growing plants---all of them hung or tucked into clean shelving for maximum sun time. Books litter every flat surface, some crime thrillers, but mostly random subjects such as philosophy, poetry, and history. It’s very---her, he thinks.

“Got that beer for me, Doll?” she rounds the corner, handing him an amber bottle with a fancy looking label. Brow arches, and he pops the top to take a swig.

“It’s some local craft beer, not my favorite. I’d rather stick with liquor.” Honey chuckles lightly while flopping down into her new couch, and James watches while she seems to take stock of the new addition to her home. “Thanks for your help, Buck.” Honey lounges back into the sofa, her tiny frame sinking into old foam. An easy shrug rolls from his shoulders, and James moves to join her.

“S’no issue. No way you would have been able to lift that on your own.” James leans back along with her, legs spread slightly so that their knees touch. Honey hums idly to herself, chin creadled in the palm of her hand and he wants nothing more than to reach out and smooth the crease in her brow with the pad of his thumb.

“What are you thinking about over there?”

“Food.” he laughs some, gloved fingers picking away at the label of his bottle. “Lets get dinner, my treat?” Honey looks at him then, cheeks tinted a crips shade of pink and James grins.

“Are you asking me on a date, Doll?”

Full lips open to answer, and he watches as embarrassment creeps onto her face. But before she can answer his phone rings--a loud bleating noise that makes them both jump. James holds up a single finger as if to say, just a moment, and he answers without even checking who it might be.

“What?”

“Well hello to you too, princess.” James recognizes Sam’s voice right away. “We’ve got a lead, you in?”

“Yeah, send me the location.” Honey watches while James stands, his drink left on the side table and long forgotten; she chews her bottom lip while he finishes the last of his conversation.

“Sorry, Doll.” he gives her a sad sort of smile, and Honey waves a hand as if to imply there wasn’t any issue.

“Duty calls, I guess?” James nods and slips his phone into his back pocket.

“Yeah, not sure how long I’ll be gone this time.” Honey stands to follow him to the door, and he doesn’t miss the worry that fills her eyes, or the return of that crease between her brows.

“Just be safe.” Her voice is quiet, distant, and James leans forward to press cool lips to her cheek. Her skin is as soft as he’d imagine, and this close she smells of vanilla and lavender.

“Don’t worry about me, Doll.” too nervous to stay any longer, James pulls away quickly, and leaves while gently shutting the door behind him.

[twomoonstwosuns]

happiness.

pairing: poe dameron x reader

warnings: soft dad!poe fluff

word count: 2.2k

a/n: i’m starting to think i come up with really good fic ideas when i’m sleeping. this is my first dad poe fic so i hope you like it!

not my gif

Being a general was an honor to Poe Dameron. He was a natural born leader and he cared greatly for people. The fact that Leia Organa trusted him to be her successor meant a great deal to Poe. But it meant a lot of long days and late nights, with the Republic still in the middle of rebuilding after the years long conflict with the First Order. One of the main priorities was to revisit the mistakes made by the New Republic in the name of neutrality and creating a plan to not make the same mistakes again. That meant appointing the right people in positions of power and creating new policies and procedures should a new threat rise up.

There were little things that made the long days worth it. Poe’s best friend Finn remained his co-general. He was someone who knew firsthand the damage the toll of the war took on the people. Several of the people Poe fought alongside took on promoted ranks within the newly formed Republic, so he saw them often. He was a hero to many, the one who led a squad of underdogs against the large Star Destroyer fleet and won. He had the support of leaders all across the galaxy.

And then there was the support from his two favorite girls.

At two years old, Shara was the light of his life. She was so completely his daughter, from the mess of dark brown curls that sat atop her head to the way she had you completely wrapped around her finger. She was a bubbly little girl who adored the attention of anyone who would give it.

Shara was the light of his life, and you were the love of his life.

Poe knew he was going to marry you the first time you turned him down. You were working in the med bay when he came in with a gash on his leg that needed to be stitched up. After weeks of trying, he eventually got you to say yes to getting a drink with him. You should’ve known that smooth talking Poe was even more charming with alcohol in his system. That one drink turned into a weekly affair, which turned into a relationship. He proposed to you with this mother’s ring three days after the Battle of Exegol.

You knew you were doomed the moment he sat on your table and gave you a lopsided smile. He was a smooth talker, devilishly handsome even with blood and dirt all over him. But you weren’t interested in trying to date during the war, let alone date someone who’s flirty reputation preceded him. You’d never tell him how charming you thought he was as he sat in front of you while you patched him up, or how you would’ve said yes to whatever he asked from you.

Four years and a daughter later, Poe never felt happier.

He found the note in his pocket during a meeting, written by your delicate hands in your familiar handwriting, asking him to snag you some Jogan fruit on his way home. He gladly did it, getting it and leaving it by his jacket so he wouldn’t forget to bring it back with him, though your request was odd to him. You didn’t like Jogan fruit. He knew everything about you and knew that Jogan fruit was not something you liked. Of course he’d get it for you. He’d bend over backwards for you. And for Shara.

Poe loved his job, but he loved being a husband and father more. He’d be crazy not to admit that flying home to you and Shara was the favorite part of his day.

The house was quiet when he walked inside, the only sound of life coming from the hallway. He followed the soft lure of your voice to the nursery, leaning against the doorway when he saw you gently bouncing your baby girl in your arms. Poe stuck his tongue out and wiggled it from the doorway, making Shara giggle.

“What are you giggling at, silly girl?”

Poe tiptoed over to his girls, pressing a loud kiss to Shara’s cheek. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden press of Poe’s hand on your lower back.

“Look who’s here!” You exclaimed quietly, passing your daughter off as she reached her tiny arms towards her father. Poe pressed more kisses to her cheeks, her sweet squeals and giggles filling the silence of the room. She absolutely adored him.

“I’m glad you’re home. Someone didn’t want to go to bed without you.” You poked your daughter’s stomach and she squirmed. Poe gasped dramatically.

“Are you causing trouble for mommy?” He asked Shara, who shook her head no before shyly hiding her face in his shoulder, peeking out at her mother. Quiet laughter came from both of you when you heard her tiny yawn.

“Yeah, I know you’re tired Shar. You’re not fooling anyone.” You pushed her messy curls away from her face, adoring the way her eyelids were fighting to stay open. “I’m going to change now that you’re home.”

“I’ll be in soon.”

“Good night, baby girl.”

You kissed her head before leaning up to kiss the underside of Poe’s jaw. Poe knew he only had a few minutes to be with Shara until she fell asleep, so he grabbed her favorite yellow blanket and settled into the chair in the corner of her room. He wrapped the blanket around his daughter and she snuggled into his chest.

“Don’t tell your mom, but I’m glad you stayed up for me,” Poe spoke quietly, rubbing her back soothingly. “I really needed this.”

He rocked slowly in the chair as told her about his day on Coruscant. It felt good to just get some of his frustrations off his chest, even though she didn’t understand a thing he was saying. The deep timbre of his voice was enough to settle her into slumber. He felt the gentle rise and fall of her breathing against him. As gently as he could, Poe stood up from the chair and set Shara in her bed. She fidgeted from the movement but settled in, her tiny thumb finding its way into her mouth. Poe stood by her bed for a moment, finger gently stroking her cheek as he looked at her in awe. He sometimes still couldn’t believe he created something so perfect.  

“Sleep tight, sweetheart.”

He quietly closed the door and turned towards your shared bedroom, expecting to see light coming from it. He saw it coming from the kitchen instead and he made his way there. You stood at the kitchen counter, scrolling through a datapad. Your hair that was down was thrown up in a careless bun, one of Poe’s t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts laid delicately over your frame. The box full of Jogan fruit had been found and you were already putting pieces into your mouth. You were a vision, even though you were exhausted from a day of work and a night of caring for your restless toddler. Poe leaned against the counter next to you and you peeked up at him from the datapad.

“I heard you mumbling about Coruscant,” you said. “Bad day?”

“Just stressful,” Poe replied, running a hand through his hair. “I hate the politics that comes with being a general. I don’t know how Leia did it.”

“She pushed to get things done and didn’t take no for an answer. Something that you are very good at it.” You teased. “You’re a different kind of leader than Leia but just as good. You’ll figure out how to deal with the politics in your own way.”

Poe took the datapad from your hand and placed it out of your reach. Pulling you against him, he grinned down at you. “Finn is going to cover for me at those meetings I was telling you about, which means I’ve got the next four days off.”

“Four days, huh?” You pondered, your hands running up his arms to clasp around his neck. “What are Shara and I going to do with having you to ourselves for four whole days?”

“I can think of a few things we can do,” Poe smirked, leaning down to kiss gently along your jaw. You ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, your affectionate husband sighing contently as you did. “We’ll take it day by day. Just being home with you two is enough for me.”

Poe kissed from your jaw to your lips. He pulled away and caught you eyeing him, a small smile on your lips and your eyes sparkling.

“What’s with the smile?”

“I just missed you.” You shrugged, the smile growing wider. You detached yourself from his embrace and held up the now empty box. “Thanks for the fruit.”

“Since when do you like Jogan fruit?”

“I’ve eaten it before.”

Poe scoffed, taking the empty box from you and throwing it away. “In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve only seen you eat it once and that was when…”

Poe trailed off, turning to observe you. He looked between the fruit in your hand and you as he remembered the last time you had indulged in Jogan fruit…when you were pregnant with Shara. His eyes widened with realization. “Baby, are you pregnant?”

You bit your lip and nodded. Poe felt his heart beating hard against his chest, the happiness he felt bringing tears to his eyes. He crossed the room and took your face in his hands, kissing you with everything he had. You squeaked in delight when Poe hugged you tight against him, lifting you off the ground.

“When did you find out?”

“Last week. I wanted to be sure before I told you.” Poe placed you back on the ground, his arms still tight around your waist. “So you’re happy?”

“Of course I’m happy, why wouldn’t I be?”

“We haven’t talked about having another kid and Shara’s still so young…”

Poe placed a hand on your cheek, softly caressing the skin under your eye.

“Sometimes things that are unplanned become the greatest things in our lives. I can’t think of anything greater than expanding our family.”

You nearly cried. Poe truly was the best father. Of course, you had no doubt Poe would be a great father when the time came. He was such a dad to his droid already. But from the moment he first held Shara in his arms, you knew he being a dad was something he was always meant to be.

“Poe, that’s beautiful,” you said. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you, baby.” Poe sunk to the ground, his hand rubbing over the tiny curve of your belly and kissing it over his shirt. “I already can’t wait to meet you. I’m going to have my own squadron again.”

You groaned. “Our kids are not learning to fly until they’re at least ten.”

“I learned when I was six and look how I turned out!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, best pilot in the Resistance, I know,” you smirked, running a hand through his hair, brushing it back from his face. “I also know they’re going to take after you which means I’m going to be outnumbered by a team of reckless flyboys and/or flygirls and I don’t know if I can handle that.”

“I’ll teach you to fly so you don’t feel left out.” You let out a dry laugh as Poe stood up, leaning against the counter next to you. “How about when they’re seven?”

“We’re negotiating now?” You asked, giving him a look as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. Poe nodded. “Fine. Eight.”

Poe considered your offer, his jaw moving back and forth as he studied you. “Eight.”

“Deal.”

You pecked Poe’s lips to seal your deal, a tired yawn escaping when you pulled away. Poe chuckled and rubbed your arm. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Poe?” Poe was halfway out of the kitchen when you called his name. He looked back at you, expecting to see something wrong but instead seeing a warm smile on your face. You placed a hand on your stomach. “I can’t wait.”

Poe walked back over to you, wrapping you up in his arms and kissed you, all the love he had for you being poured into it. His tongue met yours and he kissed you deeply, slowly, like you had all the time in the world. His hands slipped under the shirt you wore, your warm soft skin a contrast to his rough hands. You pulled away to take a breath and he pecked your lips for good measure. “I can’t wait either.”

“Four credits says it’s a girl.”

Poe laughed, grabbing your hand and turning off the kitchen light.

“You’re on.”

[atlafan]

Tethered - Sneak Peek

Based off this ask.

a/n: this is going to be a doozy fam, the full thing is 27K. I really wanna take my time to proofread, so here’s the first few “pages” to hold you over. I’m hoping to post the full thing tomorrow if I can get it proofread tonight. Enjoy doctor!Harry!! 

Becoming a pediatrician was no small feat. Four years for an undergraduate degree, perhaps in biology, or biochemistry, something of that nature, four years of medical school, and then five years of residency. Thirteen years total, and hundreds of thousands of dollars just so people will know you as doctor. But it was worth it, and not just because a person can get paid nearly $200K a year, although, that was pretty nice. No, it was worth it because a pediatrician got to spend the day with babies and kids, and even teenagers, who loved coming in for a checkup. Most kids loved going to the doctor. It was someone they knew well, someone they trusted, and someone to sneak them an extra piece of candy after a particularly difficult flu shot.

Dr. Harry Styles was just about thirty, and had gone into business with another doctor, Dr. Niall Horan, to open up their own pediatrics office. After their residency, they both agreed that smaller offices were better than working in a wing of a hospital. It was pretty easy to do, Harry had a friend from undergrad that he stayed close with who was a business major. She helped them with a business plan, with hiring, and even selecting a proper location for their practice. They wanted a space with a proper parking lot and all that.

It wasn’t difficult to keep patients, most of the parents that brought their kids to see Niall and Harry at the hospital followed them to their new practice. Word of mouth spread about the two handsome doctors with the accents, and the rest was history. They hired a couple of nurses, and a receptionist or two, and they were up and running with style. They had a nice little play area for kids, and a TV in the waiting area for everyone else.

Harry loved kids ever since he babysat them as a teenager. He knew from a young age he wanted to become a doctor of some kind, opting to take Latin in high school to get familiar with the terms earlier on. Pediatrics was guaranteed money, which was good because medical school is fucking expensive, and Harry had to take out loans to go to a good school. He sure as hell didn’t expect his mother to pay for it. Oh, and his mother was extremely proud of him, of course. As was his older sister, who, wasn’t doing so bad herself either, she was an Ecologist. Anne was amazed by both of her children, having zero idea where they got their brains from. The only thing she didn’t like about Harry’s career path was that he had to put so much on hold while he was in school. She felt like he didn’t really get to enjoy being young. Not that he would ever tell her, but he made plenty of time for fun when he was in school, even during his residency, he and Niall had plenty of fun.

“But when do you think you’ll find someone to settle down with?”

“Mum, I’m only going to be thirty, got plenty of time for that.”

“I’d like to be able to actually play with grand babies and not just be some old crone in a rocking chair.”

“You have two children, you know?”

“Funny, your sister says the same thing to me all the time.”

Harry was just happy he practiced his medicine in an entirely different country from where his mother lived. His sister wasn’t so lucky to be far away, she got the brunt of the married and kids talks. It’s not that Harry didn’t want those things, he did. It just wasn’t the right time. He finally felt like he could breathe. He only had to work four days a week, and he was finally getting his home in order. He just wanted to get settled before he started going out to try to meet someone.

*                                                                                       *                                                                                             *

It was an average Tuesday morning. Harry came in at 7:30AM, and said hello to his staff. It was Niall’s day off so he’d be holding down the fort, which he didn’t mind one bit. It was spring time which meant lots of kids had been coming in with sinus infections. Harry always felt horrible for them. He was alerted that his 10AM was in and waiting for him. He snags the chart and looks things over. It was a new patient, Michael Y/L/N, age two, both of his ears hurt. Harry sighs and goes into the room, putting on his best smile.

His eyes fall to the little boy sitting up straight on the bed, and then they fall to the woman sitting in the visitor’s chair next to the bed. She was wearing a white blouse, and a light pair of jeans, cuffed at the ankles. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and she had her hands folded in her lap. Her lips were painted red and her eyes were being illuminated by some faint eyeshadow and long lashes.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Styles.” He smiles at her.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, and this is Michael.”

The two shake hands. Harry extends his large hand out to Michael’s, and his little hand grasps it.

“Well, Michael.” Harry sits on the rolly chair and skootches closer to the bed. “What’s going on today?”

Michael looks at Y/N and then back to Harry.

“Go on, you can sort of speak.” She smiles at her son.

“My ears.”

“Both of them?” The boy nods at Harry.

“I think some water got in there during his last tubby, and we weren’t able to get it out.”

“Ah.” Harry stands up and grabs his otoscope. “Michael, may I check your ears?” Harry always liked to ask the kids if he could touch them before he did. It was a way to show them early on that their bodies were their own.

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” He smiles. He gently tilts Michael’s head so he can get a better look. He hums while he does so, and then steps to check his other ear. “Oh, yeah, they’re both infected.” He tells Y/N. “But not swimmer’s ear. Has he had ear infections before?”

“Yeah, a few. I think he has allergies. He gets them a lot in the spring.”

“The shape of his ear canal may have something to do with it as well. You may want to look into tubes down the line if this persists.”

“Aren’t those…” She looks at Michael and then back to Harry. “P-A-I-N-F-U-L?”

“They can be.” Harry chuckles. “They knock the kids out nowadays.”

Harry checks Michael’s nose and throat as well. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m going to write him a prescription, and then I’d like him to come in for a follow up so we can get his ears cleaned out. I’d do it now, but I don’t want him to get irritated. I’ll put a prescription for some ear drops too. That’ll loosen a lot of the wax up that he doesn’t need. He’ll need to lay on his side when you put them in, and then you’ll want to stick a tissue under his ear for run off. Get some cotton balls too, so when he stands it won’t all fall out.”

“Alright.”

“Michael, I know you don’t feel well, but if mum says it’s okay, I have some candy that may lift your spirts.”

“Mumma?”

“Sure.” You smile.

Harry opens a cabinet and reveals a bucket of different chocolates and lollipops. Michael sticks his little hand in and takes out a kit kat.

“His favorite.” She tells Harry.

“Anything for mum?”

“Oh, no thank you.” She scoops up Michael in her arms. “What do we say to Dr. Styles?”

“Thank you.” He beams up at Harry.

“You’re more than welcome. Here’s his prescription.”

“Thank you, Dr. Styles.” She takes the small slip from him, and he notices she’s not wearing a wedding ring. Just a simple ring on her middle finger in the shape of a sunflower. “We’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

“Wait, uh, will I be expecting you or…another guardian?”

She stops short with Michael in her arms. She turns to look at him and she smirks.

“I’m home with him during the day, so it’ll be me.”

He lets her leave after that. He goes behind the receptionist desk, where Joyce was sitting, to look into her file.

“You only have a few minutes before your next appointment. You’re swamped without Niall here.”

“Eileen can handle it f’me.” He searches for Michael’s information in one of the spare computer’s. “Ah! Seems like they just moved to the area from a couple hours away.”

“Who?”

“That woman and her son.”

“You really shouldn’t shit where you eat.” She shakes her head.

“Oh, stop. I was just curious is all.” He stands up from the computer. “A man can’t know where his patient is from?”

“He can…but the patient’s mother…?” She smirks at him.

Harry rolls his eyes and walks away from her, going to wash his hands to get ready for his next appointment.

He tossed and turned when he first got into bed that night. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. She didn’t really answer his question about whether or not there was another person in the picture. A lot of people didn’t get married these days, but they at least still wore some type of ring, didn’t they? He thought to maybe see if she had any social media, but knowing her full name was confidential, and he didn’t want to abuse his power.