#denver mountain climbing

[denvermountainguiding]

Experience the Best Denver Mountain Climbing with Expert Guides

Explore the thrill of Denver mountain climbing with professional guides. From beginner-friendly routes to challenging peaks, enjoy breathtaking views and safe, guided adventures in Colorado’s stunning landscapes. Book your climb today!

[blujayonthewing]

BOY TIME TIME FOR BOY

[lifeofpriya]

Birthdays in Denver - Jack Drury

[gif credit goes to @pyotrkochetkov]

a/n: @smileysvech reached out to me a few days ago about potentially writing a birthday fic for the All-American prince, Jack Drury, and the rest was history!

summary: you and Jack celebrate his 25th birthday--his first one in Denver after he was uprooted from his life in Raleigh....

You wake up to the crisp, cool air of a Denver morning. The sun is still climbing the sky, peeking through the blinds of the apartment you share with Jack. It's his 25th birthday today, and you're eager to start the surprise you've been planning for weeks. You've noticed he's been a bit down, missing the camaraderie of his old teammates from the Hurricanes, and you want to show him that he's not alone in this new chapter of his life. You slip out of bed, careful not to disturb the gentle snores coming from Jack's side, and tiptoe into the kitchen.

You start by brewing a pot of his favorite coffee, something you picked up from a local roastery that reminds him of the small café near his old apartment in Raleigh. The smell of freshly ground beans fills the room as you prepare a simple yet hearty breakfast; you know he's been craving comfort food lately, a taste of home amidst the unfamiliar.

As you move through the apartment, you gather a few small gifts you've picked out, each one carefully chosen to reflect a shared memory or an inside joke from the time you've spent together. You wrap them in paper with a subtle mountain pattern, a nod to the Rockies that now serve as the backdrop to your lives. The gifts are simple, but you hope they convey the depth of your feelings.

You hear Jack stirring in the bedroom, and your heart skips a beat. It's showtime.

You hurry back to the bedside table and place the steaming mug of coffee next to him, along with the wrapped presents. As he opens his eyes, you lean in and whisper, "Happy Birthday," planting a soft kiss on his cheek. His eyes widen in surprise, and a sleepy smile stretches across his face as he sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"What's all this?" he asks groggily, reaching for the mug.

You give him a mischievous smile. "It's your birthday, remember?"

Jack's eyes light up as he takes in the sight of the gifts and the smell of the coffee. He sits up, taking the mug from you, and wraps his arms around your waist. "You didn't have to do all this," he murmurs into your hair.

You lean into the warmth of his embrace. "But I wanted to. You deserve it, especially on your first birthday here in Denver."

Jack takes a sip of the coffee, savoring the familiar taste. "It's perfect. Thank you," he says, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.

You pull away slightly, taking his hand in yours. "But that's just the start. I've got a whole day planned for us."

Jack's smile grows as he sets the mug down and starts unwrapping the presents. Each one reveals a treasure trove of thoughtfulness: a book by his favorite author with a handwritten note from you on the inside cover, a framed photo of the two of you at the beach during your first vacation together, and a pair of socks with tiny hockey pucks on them, which makes him laugh out loud.

"These are amazing," he says, holding up the socks. "I can't believe you found these."

You laugh, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I know how much you love a good gag gift. Now, let's get ready. We've got a full day ahead of us. Breakfast is going to get cold if we don't eat soon."

Jack nods, his eyes still sparkling with joy as he puts on the socks immediately. You both sit down at the small dining table, the sun now casting a warm glow over the room. The gifts are scattered between the plates of scrambled eggs and toast, and Jack takes his time savoring each bite, the comfort of your presence making everything taste even better.

After breakfast, you lead him to the living room where you've laid out a map of Denver, marked with little red hearts at various locations. "I know you've been missing your friends, but today is about us exploring this new city together," you explain.

Jack's eyes scan the map, curiosity piqued as he sees spots he's been meaning to visit since the trade. "Where to first?"

You smile, taking his hand. "We're starting with a hike at Red Rocks. It's a beautiful morning, and I thought some fresh air would do us good."

Jack nods, excitement growing. He throws on some sweats and a hoodie, and you both set off into the crisp morning. The drive is filled with laughter as you play a mixtape of his favorite songs from over the years, the car's speakers echoing with the soundtrack of your relationship.

At Red Rocks, the towering sandstone formations greet you, bathed in the soft early light. You choose an easy trail, one that winds through the rocks and offers panoramic views of the city in the distance. As you walk, Jack points out the landmarks he's learned in his short time here, and you share stories about the places you've discovered since moving in together. The conversation flows naturally, a blend of nostalgia and excitement for the future.

The air is cool and dry, with a hint of pine that fills your lungs as you climb. You both break into a light jog for a moment, the kind of spontaneous playfulness that's always been a hallmark of your relationship. You reach the top, breathless, and Jack pulls you into a hug. "This is perfect," he says, his voice filled with warmth. "I needed this."

You share a quiet moment, watching the city come to life below. The early risers are already making their way to work, their cars like ants in a line along the highway. You can see the Ball Arena in the distance, a silent monument to the passion that brought Jack here. You both sit on a rocky outcrop, the morning dew seeping through your pants as you take in the view.

The next stop on your surprise itinerary is the Denver Art Museum. You've been hearing about Jack's love for modern art, something that blossomed during his time in Raleigh. As you wander through the galleries, you're surprised by how much he knows about the pieces. He points out the brushstrokes and the emotions captured in the abstract shapes, explaining the stories behind the paintings with a passion that's contagious. You feel a sense of pride in seeing him in his element, sharing something he loves.

You meander through the exhibits, taking your time to appreciate the art, occasionally stopping to admire a piece that resonates with both of you. The air inside the museum is hushed, the only sounds the distant echoes of other visitors' footsteps and the occasional murmur of appreciation. It's a stark contrast to the noisy arenas where Jack usually spends his time, and you can see the peace it brings him.

As you move from one gallery to the next, you notice a painting that captures a moment of stillness amidst chaos, reminiscent of a quiet moment in the locker room before a big game. You gesture to it. "Jack, look at this one."

Jack's eyes light up as he approaches. "It's like the calm before the storm," he murmurs, lost in thought.

You nod, understanding the parallel all too well. "It's like us," you say softly. "Finding our quiet moments in the middle of everything."

Jack looks at you, his expression reflective. "Yeah," he agrees. "It really is."

Leaving the museum, you head to the next spot on your list: a cozy bookstore tucked away in the Highlands neighborhood. You know Jack has been searching for a rare book about the history of the NHL, and you've called ahead to ensure they have a copy waiting. The smell of aged pages and fresh ink fills your nostrils as you enter, a scent that always brings comfort.

Jack's eyes widen as he spots the book displayed on the counter. "You didn't have to," he says, but the excitement in his voice betrays his protest.

You smile, handing it to him. "I know how much you've been looking for this. Happy birthday, babe."

Jack flips through the pages, a child-like glee on his face. "This is incredible," he whispers, leaning in to kiss you. "Thank you."

You spend the next hour exploring the bookstore, your fingers tracing over the spines of books, sharing titles recommendations, and discussing the merits of various authors. The clinking of coffee cups from the adjoining café blends with the occasional crackle of the bookstore's old-fashioned sound system playing classic rock. It's a simple pleasure, but one that feels rich and meaningful in the context of the day you've crafted together.

As the sun starts to dip in the sky, casting long shadows across the city, you suggest heading home to prepare dinner. You've been practicing a new recipe, a twist on Jack's mom's famous lasagna, a dish that's been a staple at his birthday celebrations since you two started dating. You've made it a point to learn all his favorites, a way of bringing his past into your shared present.

Jack seems content as he flips through the book you've given him in the passenger seat. "You really know me," he says, looking up with a smile.

You return the smile as you navigate the car back to the apartment. "It's what you do when you love someone," you reply, glancing over briefly before returning your eyes to the road.

Once home, you both slip into your cooking rhythm, Jack sipping on a beer he grabbed from the fridge while you prep the ingredients. You've turned on some music, a mix of your favorite jazz tunes that always seem to keep the kitchen vibe light. The smell of garlic and tomato sauce fills the air, mingling with the aroma of the freshly baked bread you picked up the day before. The kitchen is a mess of chopped vegetables, cheese, and ground beef, but you don't mind. It's a mess that means love.

As you layer the lasagna, Jack sets the table with candles and a simple bouquet of flowers. You glance at him, his concentration on the task surprisingly weighty, and you can't help but feel a twinge of affection. He's never been one for fancy dinners out, always preferring the comfort of a home-cooked meal. It's these small gestures that make you realize how much he values your efforts to make him feel at home.

The oven timer dings, signaling that the lasagna is ready. You both pull it out, the cheesy top bubbling and browned to perfection. The apartment fills with the tantalizing aroma of melted cheese and spicy tomato sauce. You plate the food, adding a side salad and garlic bread. The flickering candles cast a warm glow over the dining table, making the space feel intimate and welcoming.

As you sit down to eat, Jack raises his glass of water. "To you," he says, his eyes meeting yours. "For making this birthday feel like home."

You clink your glass against his, feeling your cheeks warm with a blush. "To us," you reply, taking a sip. The lasagna is a hit, the flavors melding together just as well as the two of you have in the past few months. You watch as Jack's eyes close in satisfaction with each bite, his smile growing wider with every mouthful. It's moments like this that remind you why you put so much effort into the day.

After dinner, you clean up the kitchen together, the rhythm of your movements in sync, like a well-oiled machine. The conversation drifts to the rest of the season and his excitement to play in a new conference. You listen intently, asking questions about his teammates and the city's expectations. It's clear he's starting to feel more at home here, and that brings you a sense of peace.

You suggest a quiet night in, and Jack readily agrees. You both sink into the plush couch, the TV flickering with the glow of a movie you've watched a hundred times. It's one of those nights where the familiar comfort of each other's company is all you need. You lean your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. His arm wraps around you, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm, as the laughter from the screen fills the room.

As the movie plays, you find yourself lost in thought, watching the flicker of the screen reflect in Jack's eyes. He's been through so much in his career, the trade and the pressure to perform, and you know it's taken a toll on him. But here, in the quiet of your shared apartment, he seems to let his guard down, even if just for a little while. You cherish these moments, the real him, stripped of the hockey mask he so often wears in public.

The film ends, leaving a comfortable silence in its wake. You glance at the clock; it's later than you thought. "Cake time?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

Jack's eyes light up. "You got me a cake?"

You nod, standing up to grab the box you've stashed away in the fridge. It's from a local bakery, a small chocolate cake with a single candle on top. The flame dances in the dim light as you place it on the coffee table. "Make a wish," you whisper.

Jack grins, his eyes shining with excitement as he leans forward to blow out the candle. He takes a deep breath, and you hold your breath in anticipation. What could he possibly wish for? The room seems to hold still as the flame flickers out. "Wish made," he says, winking at you.

You cut the cake, the scent of rich chocolate wafting through the air as you serve a slice to him. He takes a bite, his eyes closing in pleasure. "Best birthday cake I've had in a long time," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You both sit cross-legged on the floor, eating cake straight from the plates, the cushions and blankets around you creating a cozy fort. The quietness of the apartment is a stark contrast to the usual cacophony of a birthday bash, but it's exactly what Jack needed. You watch as he savors each bite, the stress of the season and the weight of his new team slowly lifting from his shoulders.

After the last crumb of cake is gone, Jack pulls out a small gift of his own, hidden behind the couch. "I wasn't sure if I should give it to you now or wait," he says, his cheeks flushing slightly.

You take the present with a curious smile. "You didn't have to get me anything," you protest, but the excitement in his eyes makes you eager to see what he's chosen.

Jack laughs. "I wanted to. Open it."

You open the small box and let out a gasp. Inside was a ring, simple yet elegant. Your heart skips a beat as you look up at Jack, who is now on one knee, holding the ring in his trembling hand.

"You've been my rock through all the changes," he says, his eyes searching yours for an answer. "I want to spend every birthday with you, in every city, for the rest of my life."

You stare at the ring, your heart racing. "Jack," you manage to breathe, your voice barely a whisper.

Jack's eyes are filled with hope and vulnerability, and you see the fear of rejection flicker in them for a moment. But then you smile, the biggest smile you've ever given him, and his face relaxes. "Yes," you say.

"Wait, let me ask properly," Jack says, his cheeks reddening. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. "Will you marry me?"

The world seems to stop around you as you look into his eyes, the earnestness of his question echoing in the quiet apartment. The ring in the box seems to grow brighter as you consider the gravity of his words. This is the man you've supported through the highs and lows, the one who's made you laugh when you thought you had no more laughter left, the one who's held you close through the darkest nights. You feel a lump in your throat as you nod, tears welling in your eyes.

"Yes," you say, the word feeling like a declaration of love that's been waiting to be spoken.

Jack's smile widens, his eyes sparkling with relief and joy. He takes your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger with a gentle touch. It fits perfectly, as if it had been made just for this moment.

You both stare at the ring for a moment, the reality of what just happened sinking in. You lean in to kiss him, the warmth of his lips a reassurance that this is real. The kiss deepens, filled with the promise of a future you hadn't quite allowed yourselves to dream of yet.

When you pull away, Jack's eyes are shimmering with happiness. "I've been carrying this around for weeks," he admits, a hint of sheepishness in his voice. "I wanted to do it right, but I didn't know if waiting was the right move."

You laugh, wiping a tear from your cheek. "It's perfect," you assure him, the ring feeling surprisingly right on your finger. "I couldn't have asked for a better proposal."

Jack's grin is contagious as he stands, pulling you into a tight embrace. His heart beats against your chest, and you realize that this is it: you're engaged to the love of your life, in the quiet solitude of your apartment on his birthday. The simplicity of the moment is what makes it so beautiful, a stark contrast to the glitz and glamour of the world you both usually inhabit.

As you sit back down on the couch, Jack's hand doesn't leave yours. The ring feels surprisingly right, a symbol of the unspoken promises you've made to each other over the years. You snuggle closer, the warmth of the couch and each other's bodies a comfort after the adrenaline rush of the proposal.

The TV is still playing, but the background noise fades away as you both look into each other's eyes, the weight of your new commitment hanging in the air like a soft snowflake that's just landed.

Jack squeezes your hand. "So, what do you say to making some more memories in this city?" he asks, his voice low and filled with excitement.

You nod, your heart still racing. "I'd love that."

Jack grins, leaning in to kiss you again. This kiss is softer, filled with the promise of a lifetime of moments like this. "Good," he says, his voice a low rumble against your lips. "Because I've got a few more surprises up my sleeve."

[tf2occontest]

The Intern VS The Jack of All Trades, Wolfgang Stahl (+ "Bluey")

(Full matchup list here)

Alright team, here's a recap: This is a contest to determine who amongst you will take the top of the leaderboards and be hired at TFI! Simply put, whoever gets the most votes gets to move on, and whoever doesn't... Well. They'll be put down swiftly and cleanly. :}

So, mann your stations, because here are your next contestants! Vote for your favorite mercenary who you want to win the TF2 OC Contest! - P

OC INFO UNDER THE CUT!

We highly encourage you to take a peek to make your decision!

The Intern

@queensqueercourt

Image credit: @/queensqueercourt

YOU KNOW THEM! YOU LOVE THEM!! The ever so fashionable intern makes a stance once again! paired with a improv pen shiv, stapler gun and rifle, they're ready to hit the battlefield with something never seen before!

These teens accidentally stumbled on the battlefield during their job orientation, and as a reward for surviving the battle unscathed they got a brand new responsibility: fighting in the field alongside the mercs! Simcha is a fun good-hearted rapscallion from Denver, and Tirzah is rebellious punk from New York City! help them win and who knows! maybe they'll get a paycheck for this!

The Jack of All Trades, Wolfgang Stahl (+ "Bluey")

@mickmundane

Image credit: @/mickmundane

You know him, you love him--it's everybody's favorite everyman, the one-of-a-kind Wolfgang Q. Stahl! This Jack of All Trades hails from the great state of Arizona, but don't get it twisted--he's no Phonecian. A veteran of war and a helping hand, this middle-aged man has climbed mountains great and small for work, and it seemed to him like TFI would be the next best place to be!

At least, that's one half of the story.

Was his life stolen from him, or did a twisted reflection follow him down from that lonely mountain peak? What happens to the parts of yourself that you ignore, run from, and leave behind? The anger and grief that you sowed--not for the world, but for yourself--will come back to haunt you, face-to-face. It's only a matter of time.

Keep your chin up, Stahl. We'll look out for each other.

In gameplay, The Jack of All Trades is marketed as “a class for the multiclasser”, a Support class which offers a varied but sometimes laid-back fill-in-the-gaps type gameplay experience for any of those micromanagers on your ideal team. He comes provided with his own stock weapons, including:

Primary - Scoped Shotgun ; Based on the Remington 870 hunting shotgun with a scope attached. Range is limited compared to stock Sniper but can still pack a well-aimed punch when scoped or unscoped.

Secondary - Dual Pistols ; Based on the 60’s Browning Hi-Power pistol. Dual wielded with a slower shooting speed but higher ammo capacity & caliber compared to stock Scout.

Melee - Hunting Knife ; Serrated Buck knife with his family name engraved on the handle. -75% Health upon backstab.

The Jack of All Trades is made a unique class due to his gimmick item:

Gimmick - The Backpack ; Can hold and use up to five items from ANY other class (Ex. Picking up a dropped Engineer Wrench to repair a dispenser), as well as hold or use ammo crates or medkits. 

The Backpack would open a HUD upon selection with five slots to choose from, and any items within can be used either for yourself or distributed to other teammates. Got a Scout in need of healing but no Medic around? Pass a spare medkit to him. The Pyro wants to try the Backburner an enemy dropped on death but you got to it first? May as well hand it over!

Upon spawning or respawning into a match the Backpack will generate with a random assortment of items (or nothing at all if your RNG is bad enough), but cannot be refilled by supply closets. If you want to refill your bag without dying, you’ve got to pick it up from enemy (or ally) drops yourself.

In baseline TF2 gameplay, swapping out weapons from fallen enemies of the same class is already an existing mechanic--this just takes advantage of that. Any weapons you pick up as a JOAT also only have the remaining ammo of that weapon, and when that is depleted, they’re no longer usable and will disappear from the Backpack.

Yes, this does include throwables like Jarate or Mad Milk--or sometimes even a special new throwable, the Blood Bag! Whose blood is it? It’s his. :] He has O- and is very proud of that.

[xiaq]

How is Denver so far compared to Austin?

I quite prefer Denver, but I'm biased for a few reasons.

Austin makes me sad. Austin now is not the Austin I grew up in/the Austin I loved. And nostalgia for a place that no longer exists while still technically existing leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Did you know that the greenbelt and all its trails and climbing walls used to feature a creek that never dried up? The level might fluctuate, but it ran all year round, fed by springs from the aquifer. You could climb until you got overheated and then go sit in the water for a bit to recover. Now, after years of extreme heat, persistent droughts, and people pumping water out of the aquifer, it's just miles of dry rock with small trees growing in it, that occasionally floods when it rains. I can't climb there without feeling...I don't even know how to describe it. Like I'm walking over the corpse of an old friend.

Denver gives us a community. In Denver, we live in a walkable/bikable community within 2 miles (or much less) of our grocery store, restaurants, a gluten-free bakery, coffee shops, our climbing gym, and several friends. I've seen more people in person in the last three weeks here than I did in the previous 3 months in Austin. One of my friends jogs by every afternoon. Others live at the park I walk Deacon to in the mornings. People just...drop in to see us/how house renovations are going spur-of-the-moment because they were literally walking by/on their way home. Community is so important to me and I have that here in a way I didn't in Austin.

Terrain. Texas is so damn flat. I get a thrill driving to Home Depot here because I can see mountains in the distance. Our rooftop deck looks at the mountains. I can be in the mountains after a less than 30-minute drive. I had to drive for hours to get to a hill in Austin. Here, mountains are just...present in a comforting way.

The seasons. Austin doesn't have seasons. Here, we have gorgeous sunny weather most of the time but the trees change color in the fall and we currently have snow! Deacon LOVES snow. Probably even more than me. There is something so delightful about taking a walk while it's snowing. When the whole world is quiet and white and still. Even after living in one of the snowiest places in the US for a year, snow is still so novel to me. Big fan.

Travel. I can walk to the train station from our house, which will take me to the airport in 25 minutes. And Denver is a hub for Southwest which means tons of direct flights at low costs (to places like Austin!). I also have a companion pass for Southwest, which means I can take B (or anyone else I please) with me for free on any Southwest flight. Which is very handy. B's mom has already visited us twice (coming again this weekend) because there are quick direct flights from Phoenix she can take advantage of. The negatives are the cost of living and the fact that the homeless population is large and the city doesn't seem to have the appropriate resources (or perhaps willingness) to address it. But those are both issues that plague Austin as well. The only thing I miss about Austin is the ability to see my parents whenever I want. My mom is coming to visit in two weeks and we're hoping to coax my dad out when it warms up a bit (and we have the guest rooms ready), but I definitely miss them.

[sem24]

On the importance of immigrants…

I usually just post fun, quirky fandom stuff, but in light of recent events I felt I needed to speak up:

Most Americans probably know this iconic song.

It’s considered a classic piece of Americana, but what you may not know is that despite all its mentions of West Virginia, the song was actually inspired by its neighbor, Maryland.

The other thing is, it wasn’t written by John Denver but by a couple, Bill Danoff and Taffy Nivert. Their creativity and collaboration brought the song to life before Denver’s voice made it a legend.

Before the success of that song, the two were very much starving artists—in the most literal sense. They couldn’t even afford groceries.

The names Sol and Helen Butt may not mean anything to you, but they mean everything to me…they were my great-grandparents.

Sol was a Polish immigrant, hence the unfortunate last name, awkwardly shortened from its original Polish form. It’s difficult to trace the records, but we believe he arrived in the U.S. sometime in the late 1920s or early 1930s. According to my grandmother—his daughter-in-law—he saw the writing on the wall with the rise of fascism and antisemitism in the lead up to you know what.

As a Jew, he decided to leave before it was too late. The details are hazy, and my recently deceased grandmother’s memory wasn’t as sharp in her final years. (We sadly lost my grandfather when I was very young.) But as far as we know, only Sol—and possibly one of his sisters—made it out. What became of his parents and other siblings is unclear, but you can imagine…

Sol was, by all accounts, a kind, generous, and very… passionate man. One family legend tells of a time when a man came into their little “Mom and Pop grocery store” and held a knife to my great-grandmother’s throat, attempting to rob them. My great-grandfather was in the back, where they also had a small butcher shop. Hearing the commotion, he came out holding his giant butcher’s cleaver. The would-be robber took one look at the furious Polish man with the enormous knife and bolted. But Sol, enraged that someone would dare threaten his beloved wife, didn’t stop there—he chased the man down the street, cleaver in hand, yelling at him the whole way.

Sol and Helen had a long, happy marriage until their deaths, long before I was born. They were apparently so well-loved in their neighborhood that when they eventually retired and sold their shop, the community threw a giant block party in their honor. Somewhere, packed away in my dad’s house, there’s an old album with grainy photos of that day—a celebration of two lives that left such a lasting mark on everyone around them.

They were survived by my grandfather, who, as I mentioned earlier, passed away many years ago. Even so, I can still vaguely remember him—a warm, bald man with an infectious belly laugh and the kind of hugs that made you feel completely safe and loved. Sol and Helen raised a good man, someone who spent the last 30 years of his life using his law degree not to climb the ladder at some fancy law firm, but to defend people against predatory IRS practices, fighting for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. Tragically, despite his dedication to helping others, he was let down by the U.S. healthcare system and died from a preventable cause—a painful irony for a man who spent his life trying to make things fairer for others.

All this to say, immigrants built this country, shaping everything from agriculture to art and contributing to the few parts of the U.S. that make life here worth living. No one should have to justify why they deserve to exist somewhere, but immigrants have more than proven their value. Without them, much of what we think of as quintessentially American wouldn’t exist—from Italians giving us pizza to Japanese workers building the railroads, to Mexican communities enriching our culture, to a small immigrant-owned grocery store quietly supporting the creation of one of America’s most beloved songs. Immigrants aren’t just part of the story—they are the story, woven into the very fabric of this nation.

Fuck Elon Musk

Fuck our orange dictator

Fuck Nazis

And remember kids, always punch Nazis in their stupid fucking face.

Or chase them with a cleaver, you have options.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk, that is all.

[luigisblueoveralls]

Honeymoon Bliss

Luigi x Fem!Reader

SFW and NSFW

Requested by @pixelybisexualwitch

Summary: After you and Luigi's wedding, you both take off to your honeymoon and spend the whole day together and have fun during the day as well as extra fun during the night.

Notes: Fluff and Smut. I will mark where the Smut starts in case anyone just wants to read the fluff. Of course, shy and fluffy and praising Luigi as always, but also very loving.

Requested by:

(H/C)=Hair Color

(S/T)=Skin Tone

(E/C)=Eye color

🌸=When SFW starts

🔥=When NSFW starts

💚

🌸

"You may now kiss the bride."

The whole crowd cheered as Luigi grabbed you, bowed you down, and gave you the biggest kiss he has ever given you. He held onto you tightly so he wouldn't drop you by accident. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he held you back up straight, absolutely on cloud nine. The two of you were so happy to finally tie the knot. Your family and friends were crying with tears of joy, especially Mario. He was so happy for his little brother to have someone to love. Throughout the wedding, the two of you played wedding games, ate some cake, and hung out with your friends and family, absolutely enjoying the day. But you both knew it was about to get even better. The honeymoon.

When Luigi asked where you wanted to go, you picked Colorado. Despite the heavy snow there, the mountains and views were beautiful. Luigi wanted to go wherever you wanted to go, and he was happy to go to Colorado for y'alls honeymoon. Since y'all wanted to have the whole first day in Colorado, you both waited till the day after the wedding to start the honeymoon.

"You ready, (Y/N)?" Luigi asked you both buckled the seatbelts in your seat.

The airplane was fixing to take off, and while you were excited, you were also nervous. Airplanes have always given you anxiety.

"Y-Yeah. I am Luigi." You told him in response.

As the airplane started to move, Luigi held your hand tightly. You held back as the plane went faster and faster and started lifting up. You held your breath as you could feel your stomach do flips, and your legs start to shake. All you could hear was the sound of the airplane engine souring loudly, as if it were mocking you. Make it stop, please.

"Hey." You heard the calm, soft voice of your now husband speak to you.

You shakingly turned to him. Luigi's blue eyes stared into your (E/C) colored eyes.

"I'm right here. We are on our way to Colorado right now. What are we going to do first when we get there?" Luigi asked you, trying to distract you away from the airplane take off.

"U-Um, we are going to go to our cabin on the mountain that we rented." You answered him.

Luigi held both of your hands and made you turn to your side fully to be facing him.

"A log cabin, actually. I may or may not have secretly made a few upgrades." Luigi winked at you, making you giggle.

"That sounds delightful." You said, blushing intensely, thinking about the day and night is gonna go.

"And then what?" Luigi asked, his blue eyes twinkling at you.

Ever since y'all got together five years ago, Luigi's eyes twinkled at you with so much love and care he had for you. You could stare into his eyes forever.

"Then we are going to go eat at a local pub, have some drinks and good food. And then maybe have some more fun later that night at the cabin." Luigi suggested, giving you a sly smile.

"Oh, really now?" You whispered, making you both giggle like school girls.

You felt more relaxed and relieved as the airplane was stable. You got back into reality as you realized you were with the love of your life, and you were gonna have the funnest week of your life in Colorado. After about five hours on the plane, the two of you finally arrived in Denver, Colorado. It was cold but you both were prepared.

"Brrrr, it's starting to snow!" Luigi exclaimed as the two of you quickly climbed into the taxi, shoving your luggage in it.

"You two new here?" The taxi driver asked both of you.

"Honeymoon! Newly married." You told the driver.

"Congratulations to you both then. I hope you both enjoy Colorado." The driver said to you both.

Luigi thanked the driver as you peered out the window. There was fresh snow starting to fall from the sky and onto the ground with the mountains already caked in snow. It was such a beautiful sight to you, and it was everything you have ever dreamed of. The two of you then arrived at the log cabin you were staying at. It was up on a hill, not a steep hill, thankfully, but the snow that was falling on the roof and on the grass and it made the view so much more beautiful. In the distance, on the back porch was a beautiful, open view of the mountains. And to top it all off, there were no close neighbors. The taxi stopped, and you and Luigi scrambled out of the taxi to get your luggage out. You paid the taxi driver as well as gave him a good tip, and he drove off. Although you wanted to admire the cabin some more from the outside, it was absolutely freezing, so the two of you power walked into the cabin.

"I'll go turn on the heater." Luigi announced as he searched for the cabins thermostat, which was in the kitchen.

The hot heat immediately filled the cabin, warming the two of you up.

"Ahh, that feels so good." You sighed, sitting on the couch.

"Oh yeah." Luigi said as he sat down next to you.

Of course, Luigi immediately held your hand and leaned his head onto your shoulder. You both were on cloud nine and felt so high for each other. Luigi was your husband, and you were his wife. It finally happened. You could feel your body start to get very warm and tingly on the inside. It felt so good to you. Oh yeah, you were ready. But was Luigi?

"Hey, uh, Lui?"

"Hm?"

"Can we uh, delay the pub dinner for tomorrow?" You asked Lui.

"Well, why's that?" Luigi asked.

"I think my entire body is sick, and *you're* the only cure for it." You told him in a sly tone, hoping he'd get it.

Judging by his pink face, Luigi got it.

"O-Oh, I see. Is someone feeling frisky?"

"Maybe." You answered, turning away from him in embarrassment.

This sort of thing wasn't new for the two of you. You both have had sex with each other plenty of times, the first time with Luigi being super shy as hell, but this time, it was different for sure. It would be y'all's first time as husband and wife. Luigi then grabbed your chin and made you look at him with a smile.

"Uh maybe I am too." Luigi awkwardly said.

It was his way of trying to be seductive. It was cute, and it worked on you. You glanced down at his crotch, answering your suspicions.

"Yeah, I can tell." You commented, still staring.

Out of a mix of both embarrassment and being flustered, Luigi covered his crotch up with his hands.

"Take me to the bedroom." You commanded him.

"Yes, ma'am." Luigi said as he got up, picked you up, held you gently and carried you to the bedroom.

🔥

Both of you entered the bedroom, and it was so big with a Queen sized bed, a big TV as well as a dimly lit lamp turned on. It set the mood for sure. Luigi then ever so carefully sat you down on the bed. He has always treated you so delicately like a feather.

"You're so pretty." Luigi said to you.

You blushed at his comment profusely. Even though you have heard these compliments so many times over the years, Luigi never fails to make you blush.

"You're such a cutie, Lui." You told him, pinching his cheek.

He giggled at you as he laid down on his back, looking up at the ceiling. You got a sly idea. You started taking your shirt off without moving positions, and Luigi remained still. You could feel Luigi looking at you as your shirt came fully off. You were wearing a bright green lacy revealing bra on, which was part of the surprise outfit you had planned for Lui. He was eyeing you but not fully staring. You decided that the best course of action was to get him out of the room for a second.

"Why don't you go get that bottle of white wine we brought with us?"

"Oh, uh yeah, yeah, sure thing." Luigi said, his face just caked in pink.

You know he saw the bra, and it was unlike anything you have ever worn for him. It took him by surprise and made him instantly aroused for you. As Luigi left, you quickly tore all of your clothes off, wanting to reveal the whole outfit to him. It barely covered your parts and skin and also came with stockings as well. It was y'alls honeymoon, anything can happen. As you could hear Luigi coming back to the room, you sat on the edge of the bed with your legs crossed and your hands propping your body up. Your entire body was in view for him. Luigi entered the room and nearly dropped the wine bottle and glasses he had in his hand when he saw you. 

"(Y-Y/N). You look so..stunning." Luigi stuttered out. 

His whole face was caked in red. Even his nose was bright red. The way your (S/T) skin blend in with the bright green lingerie you had made him so much more aroused than he already was. He could not keep his eyes off of you. 

"Thank you." You gestured Luigi to sit next to you, and he did. 

He poured both of you a glass of wine, setting the bottle aside. 

"To husband and wife." You start a toast. 

"To husband and wife." Luigi finished as you both clicked your glasses together and finished the glass of wine. 

The wine went down your throat smoothly. You didn't need the wine but you figured Luigi may need a little confidence juice. You both sat the glasses aside as Luigi turned to face you, holding your hips. He quietly gazed up and down at you, admiring your body.

"Forgive me, I know it's rude to stare but I can't help it." Luigi apologized to you.

"Sweetheart, there's no need to apologize. I'd be offended if you didn't stare." You drag your finger down his cheek and twirled the end of his mustache that you loved so much.

You gazed down and noticed Luigi's excitement poking through his shorts.

"Someone's excited." You comment, grazing your hand near his crotch making Luigi whine.

"Ah, how could I help but not be excited with you?" Luigi said, watching what you were going to do.

You backed away from Luigi and laid down on the bed, not breaking eye contact from him.

"I want you, Lui. Come show me a good time, husband." You told him.

"Y-Yes, ma'am." Luigi said, flustered than ever.

Luigi then took his shirt off. You admired his body. Luigi wasn't fat but also wasn't skin and bones either. He had some chest hair, but not too much and even some muscle in his arms from all of the plumbing work he has done over the years. He then took his shorts and boxers off, his hard dick popping out. He was a good five inches and very thick. From the other times y'all have done it, he was able to hit all the right nerves and spots inside of you due to that factor.

"God, you're so handsome." You comment, making Luigi smile.

"I think you're slightly better looking than me." Luigi said as he got on top, hovering over you.

He then leaned down and gave you a passionate kiss. You instantly kiss back, feeling his soft lips against yours. Luigi then began to massage your breast, making you moan into his mouth. You just want him inside of you so badly. You crave him now more than ever. You felt Luigi then grab your lacy underwear and pull it down your waist, then your legs and then off of your body. You could feel yourself become more and more wet from just Luigi touching you. His touch was like a drug to you, so addicting and you would get withdrawals if he didn't touch you. 

"Oh, Lui. I want you." You begged to him. 

If this was his first time, Luigi would've came right then and there from your words. But over the years, he has gotten better at being tolerant and lasting longer. 

"I want you too, (Y/N)." Luigi said as he positioned himself to enter you. 

"Are you ready, my love?" He asked for your consent. 

Even though you were more than ready, you always appreciated him asking for your consent. You nodded in response as Luigi pushed his dick inside of you, making you moan deeply. 

"Fuck." 

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Luigi frantically asked you. 

The thought of hurting you made him so upset. That was the last thing he ever wanted to do to you. 

"You're fine, Luigi. Just felt so good." You reassured him, rubbing his back. 

"Okay good. I just want this to be fun for you." Luigi told you. 

"I know and you're already doing that." 

Luigi smiled at your comment. He felt reassured. Luigi then started thrusting in and out of you, softly and slowly. You wanted something more. 

"P-Pin me down, Lui." 

Luigi stopped and looked at you in shock. 

"Too much?" You asked. 

"N-No, (Y/N). I just didn't expect that out of you." Luigi admitted. 

"Well, it's our honeymoon. Anything can happen." You mentioned. 

"You're right." 

Luigi then grabbed your wrists, held them tightly but not harshly and pinned your hands above your head. The feeling of his nails into your wrists turned you on so much. 

"L-Like this?" He asked. 

You nod in response, feeling so much bliss and euphoria radiate throughout your body. Luigi then started thrusting in and out of you. Right away, Luigi was hitting all of the right nerves, making you tingle. You locked eye contact with Luigi, his bright blue eyes that were filled with so much love for you staring back into yours intensely. 

"You feel so good, Lui." You moaned, which made Luigi start thrusting faster and harder. 

He laid his forehead on yours, still maintaining eye contact. 

"Sh-Shit." Luigi groaned, "you feel so warm, (Y/N). Ah, ah!" 

Hearing the noises he was making made you moan louder. You could feel his nails dig into your skin out of pleasure but you didn't care at all. No, you just care about how good Luigi was making you feel right now. The entire room was filled with the two of y'alls noises you both were making. 

"O-Oh, (Y/N). You feel so good." 

"L-Luigi. Oh, ohh. Right there, please." 

Luigi started hitting in the direction that hit your good spot inside of you. You couldn't feel your legs any more, they were all tingly and numb from Luigi's thrusts. That orgasm was coming close for you and it felt so so good. 

"Please, Lui. Lui let me cum please." You beg him. 

"Ngh, ah, ahh. Hmhmm, hm." Luigi whimpered out. 

That tells you that he was coming close. When Luigi would come close, he could not get any words out other than your name. 

"I'm right there, Lui. I'm right there. O-Oh!" You cried out, feeling the edge of your orgasm creep out. 

Luigi was getting sloppy because he was right there, too, but he kept going for you. It was all worth it to him to hear your moans of pleasure because of him. 

"Oh, oh ohh Luigi! Oh Lui!" 

"Ohh, oh (Y-Y/N)!" 

The two of you screamed in unison as the both of you orgasmed hard at the same time, causing Luigi to collapse on top of you. You both laid in silence as both of you were catching your breaths and coming down from the high of your orgasms. 

🌸

"That was…amazing." You gasp out. 

"Yes. It was." Luigi agreed. 

He let go of your wrists and just wrapped his arms around you, to hold you, as he laid his head gently on your chest. 

"I love you, Luigi." You said as you run your fingers through his soft brown hair. 

"I love you too, (Y/N)." Luigi said back, totally smitten with you. 

"Want to freshen up in the shower?" You offered. 

Luigi jolted his head up in excitement. 

"Um yeah! Definitely." 

The two of you climbed off of each other and went to the master bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. The shower was huge, with a shower head on each side of the wall with a tile floor and wall as well as glass doors. As you started the water and waited for it to warm up, you could feel Luigi run his fingers slowly down your back and to the clip of your lacy bra. He unclipped your bra and slid your bra off of your body. 

"You're so beautiful." Luigi told you as he kissed your shoulder, his soft fingers running down your skin. 

It made you shiver but in a good way. He then wrapped his arms around you and started placing soft kisses on your neck. 

"Lui, you're just the cutest man ever." 

Luigi giggled, burying his face into your neck. 

"God. What would I do without you?" He laughed. 

Luigi could not imagine a life without you. He loved you that much. He wanted to have kids with you, grow old with you and he pray that at the point you both are super old that y'alls kids were grown and you both would die together in peace for he could never imagine a day without you. 

"What would I do without you?" You remarked back, making the both of you laugh. 

Once the water was hot enough, the two of you stepped into the shower. For the rest of the night, you two stayed in the shower together till the water got cold. Luigi took his time with washing you. He wanted to get every inch of your skin, and he did. And you did the same thing for him. Washing his mustache was the best part in your opinion. It was definitely a good post sex activity for both of you and a different type of intimacy for both of you. Once you both were done showering, y'all didn't even bother putting clothes back on. You both just both got back under the covers, holding each other close. You both could not wait for another day of spending time with each other as newlywedded husband and wife. 

💚

Here it is!! I'm so sorry it took so long! Like I said I work full time and can only write when I can but thank you all for your patience! I hope you enjoy this @pixelybisexualwitch !! I'll be working on the other requests as well and have them up as soon as I can.

[nikethestatue]

Princess Tea Party

Summary: Single father Azriel Night and his son are invited to a Princess Tea Party where they meet single mother Elain Archeron and her daughter. Will sparks ignite between the two singletons or will their histories catch up with them and stop them in their tracks?

Elain Archeron Week 2023 'Dreamer' @elainarcheronweek

For Dragzilla and Orio, who were my light in the darkness

Chapter One

Azriel Night

“Dada…dad…dada…wake up! Wake up, dada! We have to go! Wake up!”

Azriel Night was already kind of awake, though he lay in bed with his eyes closed and pretended to be deep asleep. His son’s solid, but soft body bumped along his, and he listened to the laboured grunting that his son emitted, as he tried to climb onto the bed. Azriel did not assist him, because his baby boy wouldn’t want him to, but he opened his eye just a little, to watch the struggle. And the struggle was real. The short little legs couldn’t reach the edge of the bed, so the short little arms were grabbing at everything in sight, as his baby was attempting to pull himself up. Azriel moved his arm just a little, and his son grabbed on immediately, not recognising that dad threw him a lifeline. 

“You need help, big guy?” Azriel asked at last, to which he immediately received an unequivocal,

“No dad! I do it.”

“Okay…Your tongue is hanging out,” Azriel noted, trying to stifle his laughter.

The baby’s brow furrowed and he asked, “what?”

“Nothing, nothing. Come on, a little more,” he encouraged and somehow, as it always happened, the kid was able to finally climb on the bed. He was panting dramatically with exertion, though that didn’t stop him from immediately demanding, “dada, let’s go!”

“Where are we going to go, Dari?” Azriel asked, stroking the small round head, running his fingers through the silken curls. “It’s seven in the morning.”

“To party!” Darius nodded confidently. “We go today.”

“We will,” Azriel assured him, “but it’s a little early. The party is at 3 o’clock.”

Darius frowned and inquired, “when this be?”

“In a few hours. Meanwhile, do you want to have breakfast?”

“Yeah, I wanna eat,” the baby nodded. “All stuffs.”

Azriel smiled—all stuffs indeed. His barely 3-year-old son looked like he was pushing six. He was big, robust and yet, still full of baby rolls. His fatty arms looked like those of a Michelin Man, and the soft, pinkish cheeks puffed out in a way that absolutely required that they be pinched. 

“Dada what we do at party?” Darius asked, his gaze curious. As it stood right now, this would be his first party. 

“Have some treats,” Azriel explained. “Fun. Maybe music.”

“Baboons?”

“Don’t know about balloons, but maybe.”

Azriel would’ve wanted for his boy to have had other party experiences, but up until about 4 months ago, life’s been hectic.

He clicked a button on his phone and the shades on his floor-to-ceiling windows slowly rose, revealing a beautiful view of Denver’s Washington Park. Another cloudless day. That was one thing that Azriel loved about his new residence—300 days of sunshine. Blue skies. Cloudless mornings such as this just about every morning. 

He’d plunked down about half a million on this penthouse, snatching it right after the pandemic for a steal. Now the place appraised for 1.3 million. He couldn’t complain. It’s the least he could expect, considering that he had to move to Denver. From NYC. Denver. Provincial and unexciting Denver, full of bearded men, flannel, and entirely too many Subarus. But his only living and close relative made Denver his home, so he packed Darius and just…moved. Without looking back. Ripped off the band aid and started a new life. And he couldn’t complain, if he was being honest. Denver’s proven to be kind of nice. It was chill and green, and though unlike his brother Cassian, he wasn’t insanely enamoured with the mountains and the bicycling and skiing and snowboarding, he came to enjoy the slower lifestyle. 

They walked around Wash Park every evening, and Darius fed the ducks and chased birds like a savage. Ladies in running gear with calves of steel and 3% body fat gave Azriel and Darius curious and often very needy glances. But Azriel knew that he only looked good ‘on paper’. He might’ve been pretty good looking, tall and athletic, with sleeves of tattoos and the cutest, chonkiest kid in the world, but he was also a single father to just-barely a 3-year-old. No one really wanted a guy with a kid. Because Darius was always going to be his priority, and no woman could ever take precedence in his life over his son. And women needed and wanted attention. Which was fine. He was doing well without them. He was busy creating fun routines and experiences for his son. Their fancy building had three pools, a game room, a bocce court, a ton of grilling spaces, chefs who came to give cooking lessons, and a playground for the kids located on the 30th floor. Darius fucking ate it all up—he loved the pool, he loved all the games, he liked to watch the chefs, because they usually called him to the counter and asked him to ‘help’, which he did eagerly. The kid wasn’t exactly shy. And he adored attention and all the oohing and aahing that came from the audience. 

There was a coffee shop where the two of them went on weekends, and a couple of times a month, they had brunch with Cassian. They had their little Italian place where the pasta was handmade and the atmosphere was nice, and they dined there a few times a week. 

Azriel knew that Cass was happy with having him and Darius around now. It felt like they were a family again, and that was nice. And even though Azriel was unsure at first whether he’d made the right decision about moving here, he was beginning to realise that perhaps, it was actually for the best. 

A week ago Darius started preschool. He only went 3 times a week for 3 hours a day, but even that had Azriel spiralling. He’d never been apart from his boy, so he spent half an hour in the car, after he dropped his baby off, and actually fucking cried. He cried. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but Darius was Azriel’s entire life. His love. So watching his boy walk away just about broke him in half. Thankfully, a little girl skipped towards his son and started saying something animatedly, before taking him by the hand and tugging him along. And Azriel was grateful to the little girl, somehow trusting her to take care of his boy. So, Darius went off with a new friend, and Azriel went back to the car and cried. The second day was a tad easier, because his boy gave him the tightest, warmest hug before he ran inside and whispered ‘love too, dada’. Azriel only cried for 15 minutes afterwards. 

…They brushed their teeth and washed their faces together, side by side, and then Azriel brushed Darius’s thick, black curls until they shone. 

“We have to shave, dada,” Darius reminded him seriously, standing on his stool, somehow already wet up to his shoulders. 

“Yeah, we gotta look good for the party,” Azriel agreed, as he covered his face with shaving cream and then dabbed some on Darius’s chubby cheeks. His son fancied himself to be very old and mature, so he had a wooden ice cream stick, which Azriel told him was his ‘blade’, so he could ‘shave’ with it, which resulted in Darius smearing the shaving cream all over his face with the stick. 

“I shave good?” 

Azriel dragged his own razor over his cheek, wondering why he was even bothering, since it was the weekend, but whatever.

“You are an ace shaver, bud,” he said. “You’ve got the smoothest cheeks!”

“Uncle Cass have a beard,” Darius announced. Uncle Cass also had long hair and rocked the mountain man look so well, and he got laid multiple times a week. Azriel didn’t have a beard, nor as much game as his brother. His lack of any kind of love life was an endless source of pestering on behalf of Cassian, who constantly volunteered to babysit, so Azriel could get out and hit the clubs. Or bars. Or the gym. Or anything. The idea of it all made Azriel slightly nauseous. He was completely unmotivated to pull anything or anyone, and though he feared that his dick might actually wither and fall off from lack of use, it was not enough motivation to go and get laid by some random girl. He wasn’t boring. He just didn’t want to do it. He was a solitary man by nature, and while his 20s were pretty wild by all accounts, he had no desire to relive any of it.

“Maybe you’ll have a beard one day too.”

Darius nodded and added, ‘like Cass! I want it.’

Azriel dried his soaking wet baby, and then they walked down the corridor to the kitchen.

“What do you want to eat, bud?”

Darius climbed onto his highchair and proposed ‘cookies’, definitely testing the waters.

Azriel chuckled and told him ‘nice try’.

Darius frowned, and then propped his cheek on his hand and demanded, “what then, dada?”

“How about eggs? Or oatmeal?”

“Okay, I eated eggs,” he decided, while Azriel poured him some juice. Settled in, Darius—who, unlike his father, was rather talkative—asked, “so what we do at party, dada? It’s fun? Is Cass gonna come?”

Since Cassian was literally the only other person that Darius knew with any degree of familiarity, Cassian featured quite often in all his questions.

“We’ll see. I am not sure,” Azriel admitted honestly, as he cracked the eggs into a bowl, at which point, Darius demanded, “I do it, dada! Give it.”

Azriel handed him a whisk and the bowl, saying, “Do it carefully, without splattering. And no, Cass isn’t coming.”

“Why no?”

“Because he wasn’t invited. Only you were invited,”

“Oh yeah,” Darius smiled happily. “Only me.”

“And I don’t think that Cass would do good at a Princess Tea Party,” Azriel said thoughtfully.

A Princess Tea Party is in fact where they were invited.

Yesterday, when Azriel came to pick Darius from preschool, Darius ran to him all excited, his shirt askew, his hair messy, waving a piece of paper in his hand. He ran into Azriel’s arms, and gave him a long tight hug, almost suffocating him. Which was totally fine by Azriel.

“I miss you, dada!”

“I missed you too, my boy. Was the school good?”

“Yeah, I love. Here dada, you read it,” Darius handed the paper to him.

Azriel took a surprisingly nice quality paper and unfolded it. It was an invitation.

You Are Cordially Invited

To

Isabella Archeron’s Princess Tea Party

Dress in your prettiest attire and prepare to enjoy delicious pastries and yummy tea

“Who gave this to you?” Azriel asked, confused by the invitation. Why was Darius invited to a Princess Tea Party?

“Girl!”

“What girl?”

“She is friend,” Darius said confidently. “Isa. She nice. I love it.”

“You like her?” Azriel straightened his son’s shirt, and then took his hand.

“Yeah, she is so good. What this paper, dada?”

“She invited you to a party tomorrow.”

“Ohhhh!” Darius looked at him with a giant happy grin and yelled “we go, dada?!?! We go to party?! I want it so!”

“You’ve never been to a party,” Azriel reminded him reasonably. Darius skipped by his side nodding in agreement, while saying, “but I wanna go.”

“To a Princess Tea party?” Azriel confirmed.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Alright. I suppose we can go. It will be mostly girls, you know,” he warned him.

Darius shrugged and said, “okay. I like girls.”

Darius was too young to have friends, and up until they moved to Denver, there wasn’t even much family to speak of. Now, at last, he had an uncle that he adored, and he was going to school where he was meeting other children and forming some kind of relationships with them. But he also had no prejudices and Azriel would’ve liked to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Elain Archeron

The doorbell rang once, almost immediately followed by a firm knock.

Elain Archeron hurried to the door, with her daughter Isabella skipping excitedly behind her. The rest of the girls were already in the den, giggling and putting on plastic tiaras and costume jewellery. 

“Ma, who is it? It’s Dari?” Isa asked, rocking on her feet, her already huge eyes lighting up with happiness.

“I don’t know, let’s see,” Elain smiled and opened the door.

She gasped and immediately stepped back. A veritable giant stood on her porch—a man so tall, he blocked out the sun. He was dressed in all black—black jeans, expensive by the look of them, stylish black boots, a thin black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up and showcasing powerful forearms covered in tattoos and extensive scars. Besides this whole ‘sexy/dangerous/brooding/hot’ package that he was presenting from the very get-go, the man was…breathtakingly beautiful. 

Elain stared dumbly at him. 

Who was this? And why was he here? And she had six girls in the house. And ohmagod what was she even wearing? And why was she worrying about that? And how was her hair? And was there a smear of icing or powdered sugar on her face? Who was he? Why was he so handsome? He looked like a cross between an Armani model and someone from the set of Sons of Anarchy. Tattoos? She didn’t even like tattoos! Why was she looking at a tattooed man?! Why did his tattoos extend to his neck and why did she want to see them when he was without his black t-shirt? And how can a t-shirt stretch like this over a man’s shoulders anyway? And for the love of god, why was there a Maybach parked in her driveway?!!?

Yes, that was a thing too now. A Maybach in front of her modest craftsman. It looked about as inconspicuous as a peacock in a chicken coop. 

“Azriel,” the man said, his voice sexual and quiet.

“Yes.”

Yep, that’s what she went with. Yes. And then, she blurted out, 

“I am not Azriel.”

“I would’ve guessed,” he smiled an amused smile that was breathtaking in its beauty. 

Elain was literally hyperventilating. 

The man’s gorgeous amber eyes regarded her slowly and thoroughly. Very, very thoroughly. He studied every inch of her, taking everything in, calculating and chronicling something in his mind as he looked her over. 

What was she wearing?!?! She absolutely could not recall and couldn’t look down to check, because that would just be weird.

“I am Azriel,” he clarified.

“Okay.”

“Are you,” he paused for a second, “Isabella’s mother?”

Elain finally managed to snap out of her stupor and nodded, “I am. Can I help you?”

“We are here for the Princess Tea Party,” he explained, and it sounded as absurd as it looked. Elain attempted to translate what he was saying inside her head.

“Dari!” he called out. “Come here…Oh my god, why did you rip that poor flower?”

The next moment, a most comical looking kid bounded over. He was…big. He was probably half a head taller than Isa, though he looked like a big baby. He was portly in a baby sort of way and had puffy, soft cheeks and a gently rounded body. He was also…beautiful. Lovely colouring, huge dark eyes with thick, long lashes, and perfectly arranged features. Basically, he looked like Azriel. Unlike Azriel, he also looked like an escapee from the set of Peaky Blinders. He was sporting a white shirt, wore a bow tie (no less!), Burberry pants with suspenders, and a chequered flat cap. He was a tiny little English stud muffin from the 1920s. In one hand, he held a flower, which he clearly ripped out of Elain’s flower bed. In another, he held a paper bag from Whole Foods.

The moment was interrupted by Isabella, who yelled ‘Dari! You came to my party!’

It finally dawned on Elain and she gasped, “oh my god. I am so sorry. You are Dari?” she squatted in front of the boy and stroked his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I Daris,” he announced and then handed Isabella the flower, while she rushed to give him a hug. 

“Dari thank you!” she chirped, taking the flower, which still had the roots attached and was sprinkling soil on the floor. 

“This for you, lady,” he then handed the Whole Foods bag to Elain and Isa dragged him by the hand to the den.

Which left Elain in an enviable and highly nerve-racking position of facing the ridiculously handsome Azriel.

“His name is Darius, by the way,” Azriel chuckled. “We are still working on it…him remembering what his name is.”

Elain snorted a laugh, and then choked back a mortified huff. Azriel smiled. He still hadn’t crossed the threshold and she scrambled to invite him in.

“Please. Forgive my manners.”

“We weren’t sure what the proper attire was for a Princess Tea Party, so,” Azriel explained, as he finally stepped inside the house.

“He is the most stylish baby I’ve ever seen,” Elain laughed. “I mean, he is wearing suspenders and a bow tie!”

“Please, if you hold your sanity dear, don’t call him a baby!” Azriel warned with mock horror. “He tells me multiple times a day that he is ‘very big’,” he made air quotes with his fingers. 

“May I then say that he is seriously adorable and maybe the handsomest very big boy I’ve ever seen. Suppose he takes after his father,” at that, she laughed nervously, silently berating herself for her stupid big mouth. It’s been five minutes and she is already calling this man ‘handsome’. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting like a complete freak in his company?

Azriel politely ignored her words and dutifully followed her inside the house, taking in her nicely updated craftsman. The kitchen was open to the living room, and from there, they could see the den, where six girls and one boy were currently squealing, laughing and giggling. 

She sat the bag that Darius gave her on the counter, and turned only to see Azriel propping himself against the refrigerator, arms crossed on his wide chest, a smile on his full, beautiful lips.

God his lips looked delicious. 

And what the hell was wrong with her? 

She couldn’t stop herself, before her eyes slid to his hands. Covered in scars, and absolutely massive, she couldn’t help but wonder what his touch would feel like, what the texture of his skin was like. Oh yeah, and no ring.

“I don’t mind calling you ‘Isa’s mom’ if you’d like me to,” he said with a smirk, “but I would like a name to go with the beautiful face.”

Elain stopped abruptly, actually freezing in place at his words. He thought that she was beautiful? He just…said it? He just told her that she was beautiful?

“Elain,” she whispered at last. “Without an E.”

He frowned and clarified, “so Lain?”

“No. Elain, no E at the end.”

“Ahhh, sorry. Nice to meet you, Elain without an E.”

She laughed nervously. 

He ate up so much space, her whole house seemed smaller. He was like a demonic presence, only the handsomest and the tallest demonic presence ever. She simply could not stop looking at him. It was physically impossible to avert her eyes. So she forced herself to at least open the bag,

“We weren’t sure what to bring,” he told her, “so we settled on bakery cookies.”

“Oh god, I love bakery cookies,” she moaned. How did he know?! Bakery cookies were her favourite treat. The one thing she always craved and went back for. One of a few things that reminded her of her childhood. The happier days of her childhood.

“Oh, well, then you and Darius can bond over your love for bakery cookies. I didn’t mean to buy so much, but then he had some strong opinions on the subject, so here we are…” he opened his hands apologetically.

Elain laughed.

“Darius has great taste, I’ll give him that. But you shouldn’t have…”

“No, we really should’ve,” Azriel insisted. “Your house is very nice. Homey.” He looked around, and Elain blushed softly. She took great pride in her home, in how she decorated it, in its elegance and it pleased her that he saw it too, even if he probably was just trying to be nice. “We don’t have many friends,” he continued, “we recently moved here, so this is…well, this is the first Denver outing we’ve come to,”

Swallowing hard, Elain decided that minute that she needed to rip off the band aid.

“You and…your wife?” he asked, not looking at him and trying to act nonchalant, as she began arranging the cookies on the platter.

Meanwhile, in the den, the party was in full swing, with all toddlers apparently dancing to ‘Dancing in the Dark’.

Azriel chuckled and commented, “this is quite the eclectic playlist,”

Elain smiled, noticing that he’d avoided the question.

“Springsteen…and ABBA before that. And was it Prince that was playing when we came in?”

“Isa made the playlist. She is an old soul.”

“A beautiful soul,” Azriel said. “She was the one who took Darius under her wing on his first day at school. It…meant a lot to me,” his voice dropped and when Elain glanced at him, she saw vulnerability in his expression. A softness that she didn’t see before.

Smiling, Elain began arranging tiny pasties on a tri-level platter. “Can I confess something?”

“Sure,” he approached the counter and said, “and while you are laying it all out for me, why don’t I help you? All the other moms bailed I am guessing?”

“Oh yeah,” Elain seemingly just realised that the kids were dropped off with her, and the moms indeed all bailed. “I guess they did…You can help by arranging the sandwiches.”

She placed a tray of perfectly neat finger sandwiches in front of him. Azriel washed his hands and then set to work.

“I thought Dari was a girl,” Elain giggled. “I am sorry.”

He chuckled. “It’s alright. I figured. Not often boys get invited to a Princess Tea Party.”

“Isa didn’t tell me,” she glanced at the children, and added, “but it seems like they are getting on very well.”

Darius and Isa were holding hands and dancing together. The other girls were dancing around them, all decked out in fake jewels and tiaras.

“Yeah, he is not allergic to attention or anything,” Azriel agreed with a shake of his head, as he smirked to himself.

“Oh, I should’ve asked if there is something Darius doesn’t like,” Elain worried. “Is he allergic to anything?”

“Does he look like he doesn’t like something?” Azriel raised a brow at her and she snorted a laugh. “He eats everything. But only normal, grown-up food. None of that chicken nugget shit or fries. I like for him not to develop any bad habits,”

“I am the same with Isa! We’ve never been to a fast-food restaurant!” Elain exclaimed, surprised that they seemed to share the same philosophy about their children.

“Does this look okay?” Azriel asked, pointing at the neat row of sandwiches.

It was surprisingly easy being with him. Despite his intimidating gorgeousness, Elain didn’t feel any tension, other than her own instant and debilitating attraction to him. But she figured that he was used to attention—99.9% of world’s female population were probably attracted to him. Yet he was capable, fast, and absolutely adept at being in the kitchen. Efficient. Also, he smelled so enticingly, she needed to hold herself back and not try to sniff him and appear like she’d completely lost her mind. But she did. She’d never been attracted to anyone like this. It was instant and so powerful that it actually concerned her. It surely wasn’t healthy that she fought the urge to run her hands over his strong forearms, or that she wanted to press her lips to his beautiful neck. Or rub her cheek against his. Or do other things which she didn’t dare think about now.

He was the type of aggressively masculine handsome male, with an aura of danger and rebellion about him that most women dreamt of. When they were married to their quiet, slightly paunchy, slightly balding account manager or operations supervisor husbands, they dreamt that a man like Azriel would suddenly appear, fall madly in love with them and sweep them off their feet. So it was surreal to watch him arrange finger sandwiches in her kitchen.

“Perfect! There is iced tea in the fridge, if you can get it,” she requested. “And fill the teapot.”

“This really is a perfect little tea party,” he complimented her, as he followed her orders.

Everything was finally ready, and Elain set all the platters and the teapot, a bowl with cubed sugar, another with jam and clotted cream for the scones, on a large tray and Azriel stepped forward and said, ‘allow me’. For that, she was grateful, because the tray was heavy and laden with food, and she whispered ‘thank you’ as Azriel picked the whole thing up easily. 

“The tea is served!” she announced, “take your seats!”

The seven hyper toddlers gathered around the low coffee table and squeaked with excitement when Azriel arrived with the treats. He and Elain placed everything on the table, and then poured everyone their tea. 

Darius was bouncing in his seat, clapping his chubby hands together, his tongue hanging out like usual when he was excited. 

“Hey big guy,” Azriel bent and kissed his son’s head. “Are you having a good time?”

“Dada! I love it so much,” Darius roared with sheer ecstatic delight. “This party is so good!”

“You treating the girls nicely? You are being a gentleman?”

Nodding his consent aggressively, Darius said, “I be nice and good. I like dance and it’s fun.”

Meanwhile, Elain was instructing in the correct way of partaking in the tea, and everyone listened with rapt attention.

“Sandwiches first. Scones next,” she said. “There is jam and cream, if you’d like. Finally, pastries and cookies. Everyone behave like proper ladies and a gentleman, alright?”

Darius immediately reached for the scone, but Azriel stooped next to him and wrapped his arm around his son’s body and whispered quietly into his ear, ‘Dari, remember how Elain said to start with the sandwiches? You should do that,”

“Dada, I don’t want sandwich!” Darius pouted. “I want cake.” He mistook the scone for cake, and already held a spoon heaping with clotted cream. He was clearly liking being independent and making his own decisions. 

“I think you should start with the yummy sandwiches,” Azriel proposed. “There is delicious chicken salad in this one, and egg salad in this…and I think it would make Elain very happy if you tried them first,”

Darius looked up at Elain, who was watching his dad closely, and nodded, “oh, okay. Lain, you want me to eat sandwich?”

She smiled and nodded, “I would love for you to try my sandwiches, Dari.”

“Okay, I eat it then.”

Azriel took one of the linen napkins and tied it around Darius’s neck.

“Dada, I don’t want bip! Why I have to have it?!” his son protested and Elain couldn’t help but smile at his indignation.

Azriel immediately said, “oh, it’s not a bib, Dar. It’s a napkin—it’s a must for High Tea!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, totally.”

Elain helped out and stated, “Absolutely. You ought to wear a napkin for tea.”

That seemed to placate him, and he left the napkin in place.

Azriel mouthed ‘thank you’ to her and she gave him a nod of understanding. 

The way Azriel was with his baby boy was incredible. It’s not just Elain watching an attractive man with a baby that was making her ovaries explode. It’s how Azriel made Darius feel—heard. Azriel didn’t order. He wasn’t impatient or annoyed. He was kind and loving and Elain was awed by their relationship. In just about one sentence, Azriel could convince Darius of what he wanted him to do without any pressure or anger, and Darius was pretty happy to do it.

What Elain didn’t expect was what happened next. Azriel kissed the top of Darius’s head, leaving the kids to their own devices, straightened, and suddenly, extended his hand to Elain. She just stood there, not sure of what she was supposed to do, but then he stepped towards her and took her by the hand, tugging her gently alongside him. Elain followed. 

His hand was massive. It was rough with scars, the palm easily covering the entirety of her hand, the fingers long and strong. 

“I know the other parents dumped the kids on you,” he said, his voice low, as they returned to the kitchen. “And fucked right out of here,”

At that Elain laughed. Azriel cursing was kind of…funny. 

“But,” he moistened his lips, as if he was nervous for some reason. “Do you mind if I stay here? For the duration?”

He looked almost unsure of himself, which was in great contrast to how he generally came off. 

Elain didn’t even know how to answer. She wanted to shout ‘yes, OF COURSE YOU CAN STAY!!!’ but she settled for a more reasonable, “of course.”

He pursed his lips for a moment and then sat down on the bar stool by the counter, and awkwardly rubbed the back of his head.

“I…” he sighed. “I feel like I should explain,”

“No, you don’t have to.”

But he proceeded to tell her, “I’ve never been apart from Darius.”

Elain blinked and exhaled a soft ‘oh’.

He continued, “To answer your earlier question, no, I don’t have a wife and he doesn’t have a mother. It’s just me and him. Always been. Therefore, I am the definition of what you would call a ‘helicopter father’. I’ve never been without him since he was born, and I can’t…” he swallowed. Hard. His voice was dry. “Darius is my life. I had a nervous breakdown earlier this week, when I sent him to school. I sat in the car for the three hours that he was there, because I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I don’t know why I am telling you this. You probably think that I am mental,”

“No,” Elain said firmly, reaching for him and placing her hand on his. “No. I don’t think that at all. And I am not just saying that either to placate you.”

He glanced at her, his gorgeous hazel-amber eyes shining with an untold emotion. But it was his hand beneath her that made her own breath quicken. He lightly drew his thumb back and forth over hers, touching her lightly. 

Now it was her turn to swallow.

But she managed to say, “Love is complicated. People don’t seem to understand how complicated parental love is sometimes. Especially when you don’t have anyone else to share it with and it’s all on you. To be the sole provider of all the love and support and kindness to your child,”

“I guess there is no Mr. Elain Without an E at the End then,” Azriel huffed under his breath.

The comment made her blush, but she nodded curtly.

“There isn’t.”

He exhaled what could be described as a relieved sigh.

“You are pleased?” She challenged him.

He hummed to himself and said at last, “it’s not that I am pleased, per se. But I don’t hate the idea of you being single.”

Now breathless, Elain whispered, “why?”

There was a long pause. 

The silence was interrupted by the exclamations, giggles and conversations taking place in the den. Sinatra was singing ‘Fly Me to the Moon’. The house smelled of pasty and lemons.

“Because you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he said at last, his eyes boring into hers. There was no pretence in his expression. No falseness. 

“We’ve just met,” she mumbled, her heart beating so hard, she was sure that he could probably see it. “You can’t say such things to me.”

“Why not?” his gargantuan hand migrated from underneath hers on top of her palm, and he lightly stroked her pulse, and then her wrist with his fingers. “You are. Exceptionally beautiful. You aren’t what I expected to meet when I came here for the Princess Tea Party. Your lovely, kind daughter isn’t what I expected either. You are both kind and welcoming and funny. 

“I’ve wasted a lot of fucking time, Elain. So much time spent on the wrong relationships, on women who didn’t deserve my attention, on people and things that brought me nothing in return, but took up a lot of space in my head and sucked out a lot of my energy. 

“And then I got Darius and I realised that life’s too short for half-truths and waiting. So I am direct. You might not like that and I get it. But I am what I am. And if I think that you are beautiful, then you are.”

She stared at him, not knowing what to say. She was considered beautiful, it wasn’t exactly news, but she hasn’t been called that before. Not to her face, not by a man such as Azriel. Older people waxed poetic about her ‘pre-Raphaelite’ features. Her golden hair. Her expressive eyes. Her strawberry-and-cream complexion. However, modern men didn’t appreciate the delicacy of her features. They wanted the overly-done, spackled Instagram ‘influencers’. And Elain wasn’t that. Though she was an Instagram influencer.

“And you being single,” he continued, “opens up a world of possibilities for me.”

“What sort of possibilities?” she murmured, her heart pounding in her chest. Was he for real? Did he really find her…attractive? Desirable? It wasn't impossible, but it was so bizarre that she couldn’t really wrap her mind around the fact. Simply because Elain was never desired by anyone before.

He drummed his fingers on the counter and searched for some truth in her face, for something that only he was privy to. Naturally he avoided her question, like he did the marriage question before and she had a feeling that he’d answer it in due time.

“Do you want to eat?” he asked suddenly.

“Sorry?”

“Eat. Do you want to eat something? While our kids are gorging themselves on pastries, do you want to eat something more grownup? I can make us something,” he offered.

This was the most confusing man Elain’s ever met. He got up and went to the refrigerator, acting like he’s been here a million times before.

“What do you feel like?” he asked without looking at her. Then he turned around and said, “let me guess…” he seized her up, while she crossed her arms on her chest and stared down at him. 

“I think…” he tsked, still considering something in his head, “I think you look like a girl who’d like a nice big salad with everything.”

Elain’s mouth popped open into a surprised ‘O’.

“How,” she began saying, but he cut in,

“How did I know that you’d like a nice salad? I have a gift, lovely Elain. I see things. Things that others miss,”

“What do you do?” she demanded, now worried that he was some unsavoury character who was trying to fleece her for information, though it was preposterous. He was driving a Maybach! What did she have that he could possibly want or need?

Meanwhile, Azriel began pulling out lettuces, herbs, a red pepper, jalapenos, scallions and olives from the fridge. 

“I mean, are you going to tell me that I am wrong?” he teased, as he piled the greens on the counter, “you have four varieties of lettuce, you have a daikon radish, you have two…no, three bags of various kale, what the hell is that? Spirulina?! Who has spirulina powder?!”

“I have spirulina!” she almost shouted, but he was laughing.

“Oh, chill, beautiful, I love the variety!” He then grabbed tomatoes, a jar of hearts of palm, and a bag of shelled edamame from the freezer, as well as a bunch of radishes. “I mean daikon? Seriously?!”

“I love daikon!” she exclaimed.

“Clearly…”

Still pouting at his humorous critique, she nevertheless got up and went to the walk-in pantry, before returning a minute later with a large platter.

And all the while, she’s been thinking about how he called her ‘beautiful’. Like it was the most natural thing for him to say. Like he actually thought that and meant it.

“Do you always come to strangers’ homes and start cooking for them?” she inquired tartly, though she definitely didn’t mind watching him take his hoodie off and expose his monstrously gorgeous physique to her in his form-fitting black t-shirt.

“No,” he said simply, as he lined a cucumber on the cutting board and diced it like a professional chef–fast, with precise, perfect movements, which produced perfectly uniform cubes of cucumber. “But then you aren’t a stranger. And I don’t want to be a stranger to you.” He looked up from the cutting board and his luminous eyes bored into hers. “And I think it’s quite normal for a man to want to feed his woman,”

His woman?!?!

Internally screaming, Elain was now panting like a golden retriever. She had no words. Just emotions. 

His woman.

His. Woman.

What?

How did she become his woman?

Oh, and the bastard knew that he was completely throwing her, judging by his indecently sexy smirk, as he began on the radishes, but he played it so cool…just so cool, and continued as if he didn’t just say something totally outrageous.

“You know, we’ve been killing mammoths back in the day,”

“Of course, and you remember, huh?” she finally managed to ask.

“I remember that it’s my pleasure and honour to provide you with a little sustenance. Why the veg though?” Now he was curious.

Elain, discombobulated emotionally and psychologically, needed a moment to gather herself and her thoughts. He was giving her the biggest whiplash of her life.

He went from stroking her hand, to calling her ‘beautiful’ as an endearment, to telling her she was his woman, to now raiding her fridge and making them a salad all in a span of less than 20 minutes.

This was more excitement than she’d experienced in the past 3 years!

She looked down, her hands cupped on her lap. She finally recalled what she was wearing–a pretty white boho dress with some white embroidery and a generously revealing neckline. Okay, she didn’t know that he would storm into her life and turn it upside down when she was dressing for the tea party. But it also didn’t escape her entirely that he admired her dress and perhaps some other things more than once.

“I was an overweight child–which in my mother’s eyes was the greatest sin imaginable–while my two sisters were willow thin. Up until I was about fifteen, my relationship with food was messy, mostly because of the fat shaming that my mother subjected me to,” 

Azriel did not pause his slicing and dicing, but his brow was deeply furrowed with a grim expression. He didn’t comment though. And Elain didn't know why she was telling him these personal, painful things. 

“Anyway,” she shrugged it off, and concluded, “I decided that I wanted to change my attitude towards food. I no longer wanted to punish or reward myself with it. I simply wanted to eat and be healthy. And I discovered that I loved vegetables. Changing how I ate, how I thought, how I viewed myself gave me a new outlook on life–vegetables, fruits, sunshine, walks, gardening–it gave me energy, strength, and a better attitude.

“And when I had my daughter, I swore that I’d instil her with confidence and a much brighter and healthier relationship with food.”

Azriel dumped the first batch of sliced and chopped veggies into the bowl, and began on the rest of the ingredients. The salad was already looking mouthwatering.

“The veggies paid off,” he said at last, looking at her. “You are stunning.”

At that, Elain gasped and he smiled at her.

“Please don’t bother protesting,” he ordered. 

She slapped her hands on the counter, and then announced sternly, “Okay, I can’t take anymore compliments!”

Azriel barked a loud and amused laugh.

“You’ve reached your compliments quota, beautiful?”

“Tell me about Darius,” she demanded, ignoring the ‘beautiful’ quip.

“Darius? What do you want to know? He is not exactly very complicated,” Azriel chuckled.

Elain insisted though. “No. I want to know about you and Darius. What happened to his mother? Where is she? Tell me.”

Azriel hummed and Elain wondered if she’d pushed him too far. She really had no right to ask him personal questions. He’d asked her about vegetables and she then suddenly developed verbal and emotional diarrhoea. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. But she didn’t have to ask him about his kid.

“Where she is,” he suddenly answered, “I have no idea.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, remembering something and then said,

“Honestly, when I said that Darius is my son, I meant it. He is mine. He is my baby, my friend, my son. It’s me and him. There is no mother,”

“Oh, was he born via a surrogate?” it dawned on Elain that that might have been the case, but Azriel shook his head and huffed a bitter sort of snort.

“No. Not at all. His mother is a famous model–now more known with her erratic behaviour and alcohol binges than her career–but when I knew her, she was in her prime. We had a very, and I mean, very fleeting relationship,”

He began salting the salad, squeezing lemon all over, swishing a healthy helping of olive oil on top and then began tossing it with two spoons.

“I don’t know…I hardly even remember hooking up with her,” he admitted and that made Elain squirm in her seat a bit. Azriel talking so openly about his sex life was unsettling. It also made something pinch inside her chest. Something unpleasant and sharp.

Jealousy.

She had no right to be jealous, and it was an irrational feeling towards a man she just met, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I dunno,” he leaned on his elbows and propped his cheek, thinking. “Like I said, there isn’t much to say. One day–it was Wednesday, I remember that very well–my doorbell rang. I went to open it, and there she stood, with a tiny bundle in her arms. It was late April, but fucking cold outside, and all I saw was this tiny bare foot that poked out of the blanket. And then a bare arm. And I was horrified that this kid wasn’t dressed for the weather.”

There was a touch of anger in his voice, but he pushed it down and then said,

“She literally handed me this bundle with a child in it and said that it was mine and he was three days old. She apparently came straight from the hospital? I am not sure why he wasn’t dressed better, but whatever. She told me that she couldn’t take care of ‘it’--she kept calling him ‘it’--and then she simply turned around and walked away. Oh, and she handed me his birth certificate. He was nameless too.

“That was a weird Wednesday,” he chuckled dryly.

Elain stared at him, horrified. This was the most insane story, considering that he and this mysterious model weren’t even in a relationship.

“And? Then what?” she whispered, her hand covering her mouth.

“And then what?” Azriel’s massive shoulders moved in another shrug, and then he straightened and expelled a heavy sight. “What do you think? Got a bit of a mental walloping. That’s some mindfuck, when someone suddenly hands you a baby! And says good luck. I didn’t even know the sex! I had no diapers, no formula, no clothes, no place for him to sleep–ah, I finally discovered that he was a he–no wipes, and oh, no freakin’ name! And I didn’t actually know that he was in fact mine. Plates?”

“What?”

“Where are the plates? It’s time to eat,”

She pointed to a cupboard, but also snapped, “you can’t just leave me hanging here! Tell me the rest of the story! Come on,”

He seemed entertained by her demands, and said, “well, if I tell you my story, you tell me yours too.”

“Fine! Not much to tell,” she muttered.

He looked at her, brow raised in a dare, and said, “you are absolutely telling me the story. And why someone like you isn’t taken. You legit have the perfect little house, with white trim and shutters, this perfect kitchen, perfect floors, and a white picket fence. Where is Mr. Perfect then? Not to mention that you have the most perfect beauty of a daughter!”

Elain smiled shyly and looked out to the den. From this angle, she could see Isa–her sweet, actually perfect little girl. Isa, with her pretty ringlets and her gorgeous soulful eyes, was someone who had the biggest heart and truly was one of the best people she knew. It wasn’t because Isa was her daughter–some kids were assholes and their age didn’t prevent them from being that. But Isa was curious and smart, giving and friendly. Even without asking, Elain knew that Isa took it upon herself to befriend little Darius, and made him feel welcome in their school. Darius seemed like someone who could stand up for himself–his size alone would probably intimidate any bratty kid–but he was also young and innocent, and truly was still more of a baby than a child. He didn’t even know how to speak properly yet. And Elain figured that Isa wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. 

“How did you get on with raising him?” she inquired at last.

Azriel meanwhile piled a good amount of salad onto a plate, and then speared his fork through it. Elain was a little surprised, and yes, miffed, that he didn’t give her any, but then she shouldn’t have expected him to serve her. He already cooked! That was enough.

Azriel stepped closer to her, but didn’t sit down, and towered over her, as he thrust the fork towards her mouth and whispered, “open up”.

Bewildered by the request, Elain just stared at him, completely confused.

“Come on,” he prompted her, pushing the salad against her slightly parted lips. She opened up and he pushed the salad inside, and smiled, watching her chew.

“What are you doing?” she asked at last, once she swallowed. This salad was freakin’ amazing! It was delicious. Perfectly dressed, with a delectable combination of textures and flavours. 

“Feeding you,” he said simply and then took a bite of the salad himself, from the same plate, not changing forks or anything. 

“Why?” she asked, feeling hot and bothered, and…sexual. Why was she so bothered by him? He was not the first man she’d ever come in contact with, but even despite his blatantly indescribable attractiveness this felt different somehow. It felt like a possibility. And Elain wasn't sure what to make of it. What exactly was she hoping for here? “I can feed myself, you know,” she added tersely.

“I am aware,” his tone was the same–calm and reasonable–”but I like the idea of feeding my woman.”

With that, he fed her another mouthful of salad, and she barely avoided choking on it. 

“Your woman?” she repeated, her cheeks heating, her hands trembling on her lap. “Since when exactly did I become your woman?”

“You haven’t yet,” he answered patiently. “But I am hoping that that’s where this is leading. For now, though, you will be my good girl and let me feed you. Now, open up,” 

The words ‘good girl’ scrambled Elain’s insides into an absolute frenzy–there was fluttering, squeezing, palpitations, achy feels between her legs, and all sorts of engorgements…in various parts of her body. And the bastard knew and saw it all, judging by the satisfied, salacious smirk on his disgustingly perfect lips.

This was either the worst or the best Princess Tea Party in history. Elain wasn’t sure which one it was. She also didn’t know what to do with this man. Was he everything that she’d ever dreamed of and hoped for? Probably. But now, faced with an actual man of her dreams, she was stumped. She wished that her sister Nesta was here to help out and try to figure this out, and what her next steps should be, but she was all alone facing this sublime beast of a male.

But, no…

Azriel leaned back on his forearms on the counter, eating lazily, and feeding her, though he still towered over her, even in this position. There was something dominating about his stance, but Elain didn’t find it in herself to care. He also didn’t seem to expect an answer from her–he simply fed them both, and then went back to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of Pinot Grigio and poured them both a glass. 

“Dada! Dada!” they heard the familiar call, and the next moment, Darius sprinted into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and jam, his black curls kind of wild atop of his round head.

He stopped and then extended his chunky hands, a small cake in each palm.

“Dada, I bringed cakes for you,” he explained. “And Lain too. You eat it,” he nudged them, and then dropped the cakes into their outstretched hands.

“Aww thanks big guy,” Azriel said softly, “you are the best boy.”

“Yeah,” Darius accepted the praise easily and didn’t argue. He was the best boy. 

He stood on his toes and tried to see what the adults were eating.

“What you eat, dada?” he demanded.

“Salad,” Azriel said, and then offered, “you want some?”

Darius made a face and shook his head no. 

“No, dada, no salad,” he frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“I figured,” Azriel chuckled and then fed some more to Elain. Darius observed them both, his head cocked to the side, watching. 

“Lain, you love salad?”

“I do. Your dada made a very very delicious salad for us,” Elain said, while Azriel stepped closer to her and she was just about overwhelmed by the scent of masculine pheromones in the air. He smelled of cedar, sharp and crisp, and there was something so attractive about the scent of his skin that she fought the urge to moan out loud. It absolutely didn’t help that Azriel’s finger lightly skimmed over the side of her neck. Leisurely and with strange familiarity, as if he’d done this a million times before with her. 

“Yeah, dada always make good stuffs,” Darius agreed, and Elain held herself together by a thin thread, trying not to alarm a toddler while she was mentally lusting over his father.

“How’s it going with you guys there?” Azriel asked.

“Is good!” Darius reported enthusiastically. “We eated all cakes and stuffs, I want milk and we gonna watch a movie.”

“Ahhh…got it. Can you ask Elain nicely for milk? And may I wash your face?”

“Oh, sorry Lain. Can I have milk please?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” she got up and poured him a glass of milk, while Azriel grabbed him under his arm and dangled him over the sink.

“I flied!” Darius yelled, spreading his arms, while Azriel tried to stifle a laugh at his antics, and Elain filled her palm with water and began washing Darius’s sticky face. 

“Thank you,” Azriel whispered, while Darius attempted to thrust his arms under the faucet.

“Why are you so jacked up? No more sugar for you,” he warned his son. “Quiet time with the movie.”

“Yeah, I want movie,” Darius agreed. “Do plane, dada!”

Azriel sighed, while Elain laughed at the two of them and chased Darius’s face with a paper towel to wipe him clean and dry. Then Azriel lifted Darius with one arm all the way above his head, and Darius screeched loudly with excitement, as he flapped his arms.

All this commotion called the rest of the children to the kitchen, and Isa watched ‘the plane’ enviously, before saying, “I want this too!”

Azriel put Darius down and said, “Alright. I’ll give everyone a plane ride, while we get the movie going.”

“They can watch ‘Cinderella’ or ‘Snow White’,” Elain told him, while he lifted Isa high above his head and she yelled and hooted with delight screaming ‘mama, look at me!’ Everyone headed back to the den, and Elain watched Azriel with her daughter and it did something to her. Despite his size and his somewhat menacing appearance, Azriel was such a gentle man. He was incredibly thoughtful and good with children, and they seemed to trust him instantly. But there was something wild and untamed about him as well. Like he’d never been in the company of a female who domesticated him a bit. 

“Lain,” Darius tugged on her skirt, and she looked down, and stroked her fingers through his hair. “Do you want hug?” he offered. “I give good hug. Dada say and Cass too.”

She grinned and nodded, “Yes, Dari, I’d love a good hug from you.”

“Oh good!” he opened his arms and she squatted, and he immediately threw his fatty arms around her neck. She wrapped him in her embrace and sat down, with him straddling her. 

“Who is Cass?” she asked, gently rubbing his back, as he tucked into her body and pressed his face between her breasts.

“Cass is uncle,” he said, and then exhaled deeply, settling in for a hug. 

Elain rocked him slowly on her lap, enjoying his (substantial) weight and his solid sturdiness. He was so much denser than Isa, yet she loved that he was still a baby. Elain loved babies and once in her life imagined that she’d have a large family–four, maybe five, children–a husband who’d love her and whom she’d adore. But none of it happened. Nothing’s happened the way she planned. 

She pressed her cheek to Darius’s head and hugged him a little tighter. For some reason, her own failures made her sad. She was a lifegiver by nature–she loved children, baking, gardening, she loved watching things grow: flowers, plants, herbs and even bread. She loved to experience the mystery of creation, loved watching things blossom and grow and come to life. Even despite all the challenges, she loved her pregnancy, loved giving birth to Isabella and nurturing her every day of her life. 

“Dari, what does your dad do?” Elain asked.

Darius thought for a moment and then said, “Dada make pictures.”

‘He makes pictures?” she repeated, a little uncertain about what he meant. “Like an artist?”

“I dunno,” Darius admitted with a sigh.

“No,” they heard Azriel’s voice. “I am a photographer.”

Elain looked up, lifting her cheek from Darius’s head and saw Azriel standing in the doorway, his arms folded on his chest. But it was his gaze that jolted her. His eyes were hungry. Ravenous. Like he was looking at his next meal. Elain froze under that gaze: the way his hazel eyes devoured her. Devoured her with his son in her lap.

“Well, I stepped away for ten minutes and he certainly found a way to make himself very comfortable.”

Darius didn’t even turn his head, firmly attached to every curve of Elain’s body.

“He wanted to give me a hug,” Elain explained.

“I bet he did,” Azriel chuckled. “I’d like to give you a hug too…”

He winked at her and Elain blushed as usual, because she did that a lot with him. Seemed to her that the kind of hugs Azriel wanted from her involved a lot less clothing and a lot more…hugging. Though she couldn’t say that she hadn't imagined how those huge scarred hands would feel on her naked skin–about a dozen times now.

“You wanna give Lain hug, dada?”

“I would. Run and watch the movie with the girls, big guy. It just started.”

“But I wanna be with Lain,” Darius protested, pouting. Then he finally tore his head away from her chest and looked up at her, “Lain, you wanna be with me?”

She stroked his soft fluffy cheek and kissed his little hand,

“I do, Dari. I like you very much, sweet boy.”

“Yeah? I like too, Lain. You and Isa. I like a lot.”

Then he finally climbed off her lap and rushed back to the den.

Azriel watched him, and then his eyes transferred back to Elain. He rubbed his chin and drew his thumb over his lower lip.

“Forgive him. He has no experience with women at all.”

“I understand. And it’s no problem. I already adore him,” she admitted. “And I want to give him hugs and kisses. He is too cute.”

“He is cute,” Azriel agreed. “My heart. Life of my life.”

Azriel moved smoothly, walking to the electric kettle and turning it on. Then he took out a couple of tea cups and set them on the counter.

“I have a few questions,” he said, busying himself with tea. His voice was firm, with a touch of demand in it. “And I’d like for you to answer them truthfully.”

“O-kay,” Elain allowed, squeezing her laced fingers together. 

Azriel poured hot water over the loose tea leaves in a pretty English teapot and brought it to the counter. He sat down and stretched his long, muscular legs before him, relaxing into the back of the chair.

“Relax,” he told her.

“I haven’t been relaxed since you stepped into my house,” she blurted out.

“Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?” He looked serious, and a bit tense now. 

She shook her head, “no. Not uncomfortable.”

“What then?”

“Confused.”

He didn’t respond and then poured them both tea, once it steeped long enough.

“You know how to make tea,” she commented, sort of puzzled by that. How would a man like this know how to make a proper cup of tea?

“Lived in London for almost four years,” he explained. “Learned there.”

Well, that explained it.

“Why are you confused?” he pushed.

“You are confounding,” Elain sipped her tea, trying to find something to do with her hands and being grateful for the cup. 

“In what way?”

“Your manner…the way you seem to dominate the space around you. The way you are with me.”

“How am I with you?” he pressed, drumming his fingers slowly on the white quartz, his eyes never leaving her face.

“I am not sure. But unlike any man before. You are forward and challenging. But also thrilling. And I don’t know how to deal with you. I…I am not,” she sipped again, now burning her mouth, but terrified of admitting her truths to him. 

“You’ve been dealing with me very well up to now,” he argued.

“Yet inside, I am dazed and confused.”

Suddenly, he reached towards her and his enormous, warm, rough palm cupped her cheek. She stiffened in place, almost clutching at the edge of the counter, but she didn’t want to look too dramatic.

“You don’t need to be confused. But I like that you are dazed,” he murmured, lightly brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. “God you are so fucking beautiful…” he gasped, as if disbeliving that fact. “I’d love to kiss you.”

She was feeling faint. Truly, if she was going to collapse now and faint like some 19th century damsel, she wouldn’t be surprised. 

Who said things like these?!?!

“I…what? No. No, you can’t.”

“Why?” he inquired, his brow furrowed. 

“I,” she felt like she was hyperventilating.

“Is there a man in the picture?” he asked then, his tone dry.

“No. No man.”

He smiled a quick, pleased smile.

“Then that’s good.”

Elain didn’t bother asking him about a woman in his life. It didn't seem like he had one. And his comment about Darius not being used to women only confirmed that. But, that wasn’t enough.

“What I am trying to say,” she whispered, while he still held her face in his palm, and his touch was gentle and warm, as he listened attentively, and in the background Gus the Mouse was singing a song, “is that I’m not experienced. Not at all,” she hurried, wishing to get this out. “I am…I don’t have experience with men. I am not experienced with sex. I don’t know how to do this,” she waved her hand between their bodies. “This fancy banter. This…You! I don’t know how to do you,”

“You can do me very easily,” he chuckled a husky, sexy chuckle. “I’d love for you to do me.”

“No, no!” she slapped his other hand in frustration. “You think I am kidding, but I am not! I am not kinky,”

“I didn’t say I was kinky,” he reminded her with that impossible smirk of his. “Why did you assume I was kinky? And what’s kinky, exactly?”

“That’s the thing!” she exclaimed in frustration. “I don’t know! I have Isa and my business, and that’s it. I don’t know the modern lingo. I don’t know what people are into. I am not into spanking and choking,”

“Seems like you do know what people are into,” he teased.

“I only know a little because I read books,”

“Naughty books, it seems like,”

But at last, he dropped his hand from her face, and she thought that he was annoyed with her, but he only covered her hands with his and squeezed lightly.

“Calm down and breathe.”

Elain realised that she was panting loudly, and she felt extremely hot. She was sweating beneath her dress, and her hands were shaking.

“Elain, please,” he said kindly. “Please…I am sorry if I’ve upset you. It’s not my intention at all. But you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,”

“I’ve only had sex once,” she shot out in one breath.

He had no visible reaction for a few seconds. Then, confusion. Then, he asked,

“You mean…wait…what do you mean? You,”

“Basically a virgin,” she admitted bitterly, hanging her head. 

They were both silent for a few moments, before she continued,

“I was a senior in university–twenty-one years old. Almost twenty-two. Never had a real boyfriend. Never even been kissed other than by Bobby Sands when we were nine. And don’t tell me that I am ‘pretty and how could that be’,” she warned him.

“But you are pretty and how could that be?” he said immediately and she smiled weakly at him. He was smiling back.

“Anyway, I went to a party and met this guy Graysen Nolan–I mean, I knew who he was–he was a football superstar. He was the quarterback for the Buffaloes and he was at the party and he was paying me attention. Like, a lot of attention. And he was laughing with me and joking, and telling stories and slipping me Margaritas,”

“Did he rape you?” Azriel’s tone was deadly, and Elain saw that moment in his expression that he was capable of some dark deeds.

“No,” she shook her head no. “I was willing. I mean, I don’t know–he wasn’t violent. He wasn’t mean. But I was drunk. I mean, I guess I consented. I am not sure…”

“So he took advantage of you at the very least.”

“Yes. And he also took my virginity. Which I don’t even remember happening, or feeling it. I don’t even know if he took it entirely, to be honest.  And he didn’t use a condom. And because I was a hopeless virgin, I wasn’t on any kind of birth control. And I guess I was too stupid to go to Walgreens the next day and get Plan B. Then three weeks later, I realised that my period was late. And late. And I was terrified, because things like these don’t happen, right? They don’t happen to good girls who are virgins. It couldn’t happen to me. I went and I got a pregnancy test and it was positive.”

“And you kept her,” Azriel said simply.

“I considered it. I really did. I considered getting an abortion and just chucking it off to a bad, drunk decision in college. But then I also always wanted to be a mother and as I thought about it, I was more and more petrified that somehow, I was given this option and if I didn’t take it, I might ever have it again. Looking back, it seems very juvenile…almost religious. And I am not religious at all. 

“I think deep down, I just wanted to have her. I don’t think I could ever actually go through with an abortion. 

“And as difficult as it’s been at times, I never regretted my decision. Never. I never thought what my life would have been without her…it just wasn’t an option any longer. And in some ways, some doors closed for me, but others opened. I became a caterer, and now I have a side business that does flowers as well, and I am doing…pretty good. Financially, I am more successful than I thought I would be. 

“I started with making cakes and cupcakes and children’s parties and birthdays and anniversaries and then I began expanding further, and I have a hugely successful Instagram account, with recipes and videos. And that led to paid sponsorships and advertisements. So I don’t know how, but somewhere along the way, I became successful. 

“But when I say that I am inexperienced, I mean it. I’ve only had sex once. And I got pregnant. And I’ve never been with a man since.”

He was back leaning in his chair, watching her, lightly licking his lower lip.

“So,” he said at last, “I have a question for you.”

Elain wiped her brow with her hand, feeling raw and exposed.

This was definitely the worst Princess Tea Party in history. Definitely.

“Yeah?” she breathed.

“Do you find me attractive?”

The question was not what she was expecting. Shocker. The least shocking thing about this was that he shocked her. 

“I…what? Why are you asking me this?” she demanded.

“It’s a simple question,” he said calmly. “Am I attractive to you?”

YES. 10000% yes.

“Everyone would find you attractive,” she said instead.

“That wasn’t the question,” he reminded her. 

He poured himself more wine from the open bottle and sipped it slowly.

“Because I find you very attractive. Beautiful, in fact. And I’d like to kiss you, at the very least,”

“No,” she gasped. “You can’t kiss me!”

He bobbed his head side to side, and then decided, 

“Okay. Well, if you won’t let me kiss you, then can you climb on my lap so I can finger you until you come. Because I really, really want to watch you come. 

“I think you’d come beautifully for me. And maybe then I can kiss you.”

The thundering shock that roiled the entirety of Elain’s body was unlike anything she'd experienced before. Because that could not be what she just heard. He could not have said these words. 

She murmured, absolutely floored, “you did not just say this to me.”

“Oh no, I definitely did,” he insisted, without taking his crazy eyes off of her.

That’s what it was. He must have been insane. There was no other explanation.

“I did say it,” he repeated with that maddening calmness of his. “Because from the moment I saw you, I wanted to watch you come for me. Usually I am not this forward,”

“I find that hard to believe!” she hissed hysterically, but he ignored her,

“But I feel like you are a little sad, probably tired, and doing your best. And you haven’t been loved, or admired for a long time. And you deserve it. So, climb on my lap, while they watch the cartoon, and I will make you come. 

“I am good at it,” he assured her needlessly.

“Oh, oh, oh,” she was trying to form a thought and failing miserably. “I am sure you are!”

“I am,” he confirmed. “If you prefer, I will gladly eat your pussy, which I am sure is as sweet as a strawberry…though for that, maybe we should go to the bathroom?”

Elain was shaking her head mutely.

She was lost. And her ability to speak was gone. As was her ability to think.

Who dared say such things to someone they just met?

“Well, Mr…I am sorry, I don’t know your last name,” she said, her voice trembling with tension and embarrassment. 

“Night,” he offered sweetly.

“Of course. Mr. Night. This has been a very entertaining day. I’ve enjoyed meeting you, I think. But no, I will not sit on your lap and allow you to do…all that,” she waved her hand, refusing to actually repeat his words.

“I apologise if I embarrassed you,” he said seriously. “It was not my intention.”

She pursed her lips and didn't say anything.

“Truly, Elain, I guess I am sorry.”

She huffed, “You guess?”

“I mean, I am not sorry at all, but I suppose it’s the right thing to say under the circumstances. I am supposed to be contrite,”

Elain threw her hands up in the air helplessly. 

“Why are you so weird?!” she cried out. “Do you just say the first thing that comes into your head and you have zero self-control?”

“I have plenty of self-control,” he argued. “I am not presently bending you over the counter and filling you with my dick. No matter how much I want to. No matter how much you want to.”

“I don’t want that!” she argued, but her voice came out kind of breathy.

“Okay. But you are lying. And maybe scared. But you definitely have given it some serious thought. I don't know much, but I do know when a woman wants me.”

He got up from the chair and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Here it is–I want you. Like, a lot. The way I haven’t wanted anyone probably ever. And if I am reading you right, and I think that I am, you want me too. But, now that I understand a little more about your background, I imagine that you’d prefer a relationship, as opposed to just a sweaty, hot, passionate fuck.”

Elain just blinked at him, while he continued,

“But I am not going to pressure you or go all crazy stalker on you.”

“Thank you?”

“Don’t thank me yet. Darius and I go for a walk in Wash Park, around the pond, every night at around 5:15pm. I get him nice and tired out for dinner and then hopefully, it will be quiet time for the night. 

“Anyway, like I said, I am not going to pressure you into anything. But if you want to see me again–see us–then hopefully you and Isa will come and join us for a walk. And then we’ll go back to my place and I’ll cook dinner. And then, you can stay over. Or not.

“Like I said, I am not one to waste time.”

The movie was almost over, and Elain got up, straightening her dress. 

Azriel stayed behind in the kitchen, watching her from his spot. 

“Hey guys!” Elain greeted them. “Did you have so much fun?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Well, I have a little parting gift for all of you,” she took something out from a little bag and announced, “friendship bracelets! You seven are all friends now, so choose a bracelet that you want to give your new friend.”

Little Darius got really confused by the instructions, taking a bracelet for himself, which he did not want to give up, and then someone else wanted it, so there was a decent amount of fighting that descended into tears.

Elain caught Azriel’s amused grin, as he watched the commotion, while cleaning up in the kitchen. He wasn’t helping her calm the masses, but he was washing the dishes, which was just as good. 

At last, Isa gave Darius his bracelet and he was placated. Elain took his delightfully fat arm and wrapped the bracelet over the fold around his wrist. He was watching intently as she lined the clasps and closed the bracelet on his hand. 

“Dada!” came the familiar call, and Darius took off, waving his arm around. “Dada! Look at! You love it? Isa give it to me.”

“This is a great friendship bracelet.” Azriel approved. “Who did you give yours to?”

“Tay!” 

“Did she like it?”

“Yeah,” Darius nodded, twisting his hand and admiring his bracelet. “Now I have many friends.”

Moms started coming over right about then, to pick up their daughters. They all, without fail, gave Azriel curious, somewhat frightened, but very intrigued looks. 

Meanwhile, Darius began cleaning up after the party, gathering all the spoons and forks, and bringing them to the kitchen without being prompted. Isabella followed suit, getting the cups, two at a time, while Darius returned to the den, and stacked the saucers and the plates in neat piles, tongue hanging out from concentration, while he stopped once in a while to admire his bracelet.

“Your son is unreal,” Elain whispered as she passed Azriel. 

He chuckled.

“What is he even? A damn miracle kid,” she continued, though she avoided any other topics of conversation, especially those of a more intimate nature, and only stuck to admiring the adorable toddler.

Azriel was washing the dishes methodically, his inked forearms wet and glistening, and somehow, extra attractive right now. 

“He does chores,” he said, while Darius ambled with three plates in his hands. “Somewhat badly, but he does them.”

“I think he does them perfectly!” Elain announced firmly. 

Once the dishes were washed, dried and put away, Azriel wiped his hands and called, “Dar, time to go, buddy.”

“We can’t stay, da?” Darius asked sadly.

“I think we need to let Elain rest. She’s been working really hard and made this gorgeous party for you guys.”

“Yes! Thank you, Lain!” Darius yelled.

“You are welcome, sweet boy,” Elain stroked his head. “Go get your cap.”

“No friendship bracelet for me?” Azriel’s low, sexual voice was suddenly right behind her, and Elain jumped, realising that he was standing behind her. His face dipped lower and his nose made a long, gentle swipe along her cheek. 

Heart pounding, she felt her nipples harden and Azriel’s proximity made her pant-y. She was stifling the urgent need to moan.

“I have one for you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear softly. Then he reached and took her wrist in his huge hand, before slipping a plain silver band from his wrist, and closing it over hers. He wore a bunch of bracelets–mostly silver, some leather, some linked and knotted, others just bands, and this one was from his collection.

“Very nice,” he admired his bracelet on her hand and then stepped around, facing her. 

They looked at each other for a long moment, his eyes hooded and warm.

He slowly lifted his hands and cupped her face between them.

“I was honest when I said that I would not push you,” he murmured huskily. “But until you tell me ‘no’ and until I hear it from your own lips that you are not interested, I will remain as into you as I am right now. Infatuated. Flabbergasted. You brought me to my knees without even trying. And until you tell me otherwise, I would want to fuck you and make you mine. I promise you that your tight little pussy will be mine. And this fucking glorious ass. And your pink mouth, which looks like a half-open tulip. I want every hole. Every crevice. Every damn fucking bit of you, down to your soul. And I will have it. Because we’ve been written in the stars, baby.”

He looked down at her, and just when Elain thought that he was going to kiss her, he softly pressed his lips to her forehead and then let go of her.

Darius arrived with his flat cap on his head and then he took Azriel’s hand.

“Bye Lain! Bye Isa. You be good.”

Elain, who could barely breathe since Azriel’s wildly inappropriate and heated words, only managed to nod, as she watched the father and son open the door and walk out.

To be continued

[m1ssunderstanding]

Thank you so much for the tag @getbackmountain I had fun reading yours and learning about you. I'm horrible at favorites, but I'll give these a go.

Favorite Movie: I really don't watch enough movies. Ever After is always a goodn.

Favorite TV Show: I really don't watch enough TV. Semi-researched YouTube video essays?

Favorite Musical Artists: The Beatles, Wings, Paul McCartney, Billy Joel, John Denver, The Temptations, Fleetwood Mac, Jimi Hendrix, Chapel Roan, Taylor Swift, Stevie Nicks, Sabrina Carpenter, Billy Eilish, Paramore, Nirvana

Favorite Color: Commie Red 💋

Favorite Season: I do love them all. I loved winter a lot more before climate change ruined it. But summer is definitely my favorite. I'm a nature girl and I love climbing rocks, river rafting in a tractor inner tube, backpacking in the mountains, all that good summer stuff.

Favorite Book: Les Miserables. I was a very different person before I read it for the first time. It's basically my Bible now. I have multiple copies, some annotated, some kept pretty. I'm not normal about that book in the slightest.

Do you have any Funko Pops? Nope. I don't know if it's part of my mother's brainwashing that succeeded or what but I actually hate them. Happy for you if you love them though.

Do you play any instruments? Piano. Very very badly. In the culture I grew up in, everyone learns some piano, especially the girls.

Do you have any pets? Two cats. Sandy Paws who I got for my husband for Christmas from a farm (Husband named her) and Rocky Raccoon (I named him) who had crawled under the engine of our truck

Do you read or write fanfiction? Yep. I eat that shit up as everyone who follows me knows. Think I'm going to need another writing hiatus here but definitely not a reading one.

What song(s) have you had on repeat repeatedly? Spotify tells me it's Pink Pony Club, Junk, Good Looking, That's Alright (Mama), Kind of Woman, Sparks, I Love You So, Wanderlust, Wires, Ain't too Proud to Beg

Tagging @greatsaladavenue @losturwayjustakemyhand @sleeper9 @glowing-gold @crumblingcookies

[horny4hetfield]

Rockies Christmas - Day 7

Warnings:  Mostly Fluff, Slight parentage angst, Stranger Things mentioned (lots!), Shh! There's a secret! Don't tell James!!

Guide: CBF = Cali’s Boyfriend / CGF = Castor’s Girlfriend / MBF = Marcella’s Boyfriend {I didn’t want to give them names}

Getting this posted early. I suddenly have a craving for sugar cookies....

We both roll over at the same time stretching and yawning.  The sun is just climbing above the mountain tops.  James checks his phone.  “The kids are on the way.”

I flip the covers off us, “I should check the sheets on the other beds” as I get out of bed.

Climbing out on the other side of our bed, “I’ll help you.”

Pulling on sweats, tidying up our own bed, we both check on the other bedrooms.  Fortunately, there was only one bed that needed to have sheets put on it.  Once that is done, James sets about making his pulled pork.  I turn on the Christmas tree lights and start the stereo playing Christmas music.  “Kira?”

“Yes?” I return to the kitchen.

“Would you please turn on the outside lights on the patio?”

“Sure.”  I go to the patio door and flip on the switch.  I also check on the water in the tree stand, which was full.  Then I turn on the fireplace on low. 

Returning to the kitchen, James is scrambling eggs for us.  I put some sourdough bread into the toaster.  I’m buttering the slices just as James is covering the eggs with shredded cheese.  We sat at the kitchen table to eat.  Between bites, James fills out the name tags on his gifts.  I put them under the tree.  When I get back to the table, James is working on unloading the dishwasher.  I help him reload with the breakfast things and the pulled pork prep.  It’s not quite full when he starts it.  “We’re going to need some of those things later” is his reasoning.  He gives a quick check on the pork, then wrapping his hands over my shoulders, he moves us to our bathroom.  It’s by no means a short shower, nor one of our longest ones.  But most enjoyable.

Knowing that it’s the first time I’ll be meeting his kids, I pick out a pair of black loose-fitting pants and a bright red sweater.  I spend a little bit of time on my hair, French braiding it back.  James kisses my exposed neck that is usually covered by my hair.  I smile at him through the mirror.  He’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a green sweater.  I head to the living room just to make sure everything is tidy.  James wraps his arms around me, “It looks great” he whispers into my ear.  “They are going to like you” I feel his lips smile on my neck.  I breath out a small smile pressing my cheek into his.  His phone buzzes.  James makes sure that I’m steady before collecting his phone from the charger in the kitchen.  “The kids are in Denver.  Their flight here is on time.  At the moment.”  He scrolls on his phone, “And the roast is ready to pick up.”

I nod, “I’ll go get the roast.”

Looking out the window, “Take the truck” James says.  It’s snowing lightly.

“No.  I’ll take the Shelby.”  His eyebrows furrow ogether.  “If something happens to the rental van, everyone can squeeze into the truck.”  I look at him kindly.  “It would take a million runs in the Shelby.”

Nodding, “You’re right.”  He kisses my hair, “Just be careful.  There will be all kinds of idiots out there today.”

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I look up into his blue eyes, “I promise I will be good on the road.”  He leans down and kisses me gently.  I smile at him as we break the kiss.  “So, roast and food coloring.  Anything else?”

“The roast should be XX pounds and have good marbling….”

I press my fingers to his lips, then press his hand holding his phone into his chest.  “I’ll send you a picture.”

He laughs, “Ok.”

I grab my coat from the hooks by the garage door along with my wallet, boots, phone and the keyfob.  “I’ll let you know when I get to the store.”

“Please do.”

Smiling at him, I head into the garage hitting the button to raise the big overhead door.  I had to seriously move the driver seat forward on the tracks after James drove it to Denver and back.  Backing the little speedster out, I hit the remote button and the big door lowers.  The roads are slushy, but not too bad.  I only hope that they stay that way until his kids get to the house safely.  The parking lot at the store is a little crowded.  I deliberately park in the back of the lot in the Shelby.  Yes, it’s a longer trek into the store.  But it’s a Shelby.  I send a quick text to James.

Grabbing a cart from the parking lot, I push it in the store and to the butcher’s counter.  I give them the order number.  “Ahh.  There was a mix up and the big one that James ordered isn’t here.  But I have two for him to select from.”  I pull out my phone and make the butcher spin each roast while I video it.  I send the file to James.  I stand there a minute in awkward silence, giving the butcher a wonky smile.  My phone rings.

“That’s not what I ordered.”

“Hi.  There was a mix up.  These are what they have.”

“Can we get both of those?”

“James wants both.  Is that ok?”

The butcher nods, “For James, yes” he grins.

I smile at the man, “Thank you.”  Into my phone, “He’s wrapping them both up now.”

“Thank you.  Oh.  Horseradish please.”

“I’ll get some.  I’ll text you when I’m heading back.”

“Ok.  The kids flight is delayed 20 minutes.  Their flight crew is an inbound flight that was delayed.”

“I hope that’s the only delay for them.”

“Me too.  See you soon.”  He ends the call.

Taking the first wrapped roast from the butcher, “James wants horseradish.  I have no clue.”

Nodding, he sets the second wrapped roast in the cart, “Here, let me show you.”

Thirty minutes later and three texts from James, I have the roasts, horseradish, food coloring, pecans, buns for the pulled pork, sweet potatoes, sprinkles of all kinds and marshmallows paid for and in the trunk of the Shelby.  I fire it up and dial James’ phone.

“Hi!”

“Hey, I’m leaving the parking lot now.”

“Perfect!  The kid’s flight is in the air.  And I checked on the rental van.  It’s ready for them to collect.”

“Good.  I’ll be home soon!”

“See you then!”

I end the call.  The traffic is a little busy.  The snowplows have been through making the roads less slushy.  I get home without incident.  Parking in the garage, I make James hoist the roasts into the kitchen.  He’s smiling like a Cheshire cat as he checks them out.  His pulled pork is beginning to fill the house with a delicious aroma.  He settles the roasts in the fridge, and I kick him out to finish the icing for the cookies.

“Did you leave any sprinkles on the store shelf?” as he looks through the bags on the counter.

Shrugging my shoulders, “A few.  Maybe.”

As I’m finishing up with the icing, the doorbell rings and the front door is thrown open at the same time.  “Hey Dad!  We’re home!”

“I hope you don’t plan on doing laundry!”  James yells back as he heads to the front door.

I hear them greeting each other in the hallway, the voices getting louder as they approach the kitchen.  One of his daughters sees me in the kitchen.  She almost slams her purse onto the counter - I jump slightly - “I’m not calling you Mom.”

“Marcella!” James admonishes, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“James” I hold up a calm hand at him.  Looking to Marcella, “I don’t want you to call me Mom.”  That took the wind out of her sails.

“Why not?”  Obviously, Castor.  He’s the spitting image of his Dad in his 20’s.

“I’m not your mom.”  I can see the looks passing between the three kids.  “Just because I am involved with your Dad does not automatically make me your Mom.”  I smile gently at them, “You have a Mom.   And it’s not me.”

“Sooo what do we call you?” Cali asks. 

“Kira.”

Marcella moves her purse to the end of the counter.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have slammed my purse.”

“No worries” I smile at her.  “Do you guys want anything to drink?”

James has moved behind me and puts his hands on my hips and shifts me toward the kitchen table, “They know where the fridge is” he smiles at me.  Then he checks on the pork.

CBF looks over the counter, “Is that pork?” his eyes filled with joy.  And the two of them start to compare notes on pulled pork.

“Wow Dad!  The tree is gorgeous!” Cali says from the living room.

I watch James as he smiles, “Thanks!”  He grins at me, “It’s Kira’s first real tree!”

Cali joins me at the kitchen table, “Really?”  I just nod.  “I loved the picture of you two at the Parade on Thanksgiving.”

“That was a great day” I smile, fingering my ring.  James gives me a knowing look.

Castor sits by his sister, CGF on his knee, “Where are you from?”

“New York City.”

Cali, nibbling on a slice of bread, “What do you do?”

“As in work?” I ask back.  She nods.  “I’m an editor.”

“Books?” CGF asks.

“Books, articles.  I have done a couple of technical papers, but not really good at those.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not a scientist.”

There are some chuckles.

CBF stands behind her, rubbing her shoulders.  She has stopped nibbling the bread.  As the others are discussing books they’ve read – a couple that I know the editors – Cali pales a little.  Then she quietly gets up and finds a bathroom.  Books are still the topic of discussion when she returns, her cheeks a little pink.  CBF returns to rubbing her shoulders.  The general topic of books shifts to comics and graphic novels.  Cali nibbles on the slice of bread again.

James joins us at the table, pulling his chair close to mine, leaning on the table.  His eyes are sparkling. 

A phone rings.  Everyone checks their pockets.  Castor answers his.  “Hi Mom.   Yeah, sorry.   We landed about an hour ago.   The flight from Denver was a bit bumpy.”  He crosses his eyes.  James smothers a laugh.  “The roads were plowed.    Snow is light right now.   Supposed to get heavier tonight.   Hang on” he turns his phone to the table while hitting speaker, “Ok.”

“Merry Christmas kids!” their mother’s voice comes from the phone.  The kids all respond, “Merry Christmas!”  James rests his hand on my thigh.  I just smile at him.  Castor turns off the speaker, “Ok Mom.   We will.    Love you too!”  He gives me a look as he ends the call.  I just smile at him.  There’s a moment of silence.

“Did you kids leave all your luggage in the hallway?” James asks.

MBF pops up, “There’s still a couple of bags in the van.”   The kids all get up and head into the hallway.  I can hear James’ three tell their significant others where to find their rooms.  The front door opens and closes a couple of times, I am assuming bringing in luggage.

James leans over to me, his fingers gently lifting my chin, and kisses me.  I caress his chin, my thumb gently teasing his funky little soul patch.  He grins at me.  A couple of toilets flush.  He taps his forehead against mine, “It’s going to get noisy.”

I peck a kiss to the end of his nose, “That’s ok.”

From down the hall by his studio, “Hey Dad, mind if I play?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”  James gives me a lopsided grin as the drum kit in his studio gets a beating.  He pats my back between my shoulder blades and goes to join Castor in the studio.  Moments later his guitar is adding to the music.  Occasionally they stop playing and laughter is heard coming down the hallway.

Cali and CBF re-join me at the kitchen table.  “What do you think of Colorado?”

“It’s a lot different from New York.”

“What’s the biggest difference?” CBF asks.

“The number of people per square inch” I deadpan.

Cali giggles, “I have been there with Dad a couple of times.  How did you get him to the Parade.  He usually hates crowds.”

Shrugging slightly, “It was his idea.”

Cali leans on the table pointing toward the studio, “Who is that and what have you done with my Dad?”  Then she breaks out laughing.

“Oh my gawd!  Cali get in here!” Marcella calls from the living room. 

I follow Cali and CBF to the living room.  Marcella is pointing to one of their school made ornaments.  “I can’t believe Dad still has these!”

“I remember making that!  Ms Green was a fun teacher!” Cali’s eyes light up.

They spend time pointing out different ornaments reminiscing about them.  Cali points to my snowflake. “That’s new.”

“That one is Kira’s” James says as he and Castor enter the living room.  I hope my blush isn’t too evident as I remember what happened immediately after hanging the snowflake.  James claps his hands together, “I think the pulled pork is ready.  Who’s hungry?” 

There’s a chorus of “Me!”  I notice that Cali blanches a little and forces a smile.  CBF is right there beside her, his arm around her waist. He gently kisses her temple.  She smiles at him.

James puts the final touches on his pulled pork.  I pull out some sides.  Marcella and MBF pull out plates for everyone along with silverware.  It doesn’t take long for everyone to fix their plate and find a place in the kitchen to sit.  I sit on a barstool at the counter with CGF.

CGF points to my ring, “Did you two get married?”

“No.”  I set my fork down seeing the look in her eyes.  “That’s a long story.  And now isn’t the time” as I watch James and his kids.  “And it’s not an engagement ring” seeing the look in CGF’s eyes. 

“It’s complicated?” she asks quietly.

“A little” I say gently.

She smiles, “I get it.”  She takes a couple of bites.  “You two look really happy.”  I just smile.  “Castor said that he hasn’t seen his Dad this happy in a long time.”

“That makes me happy.”  I smile at her then turn my gaze to the table as laughter breaks out.  CGF also smiles.  “I know that he’s happy you kids are all here.”  CGF smiles back.

“Ok.  Let’s clean this mess up and make another!” James says taking his plate to the kitchen, scraping it into the compost bin and putting it into the dishwasher.  He looks up at the silence from his kids.  “What?”

Cali points to her Dad but looks at me, “Again, who is that and what have you done with my Dad?”

James rests his hands on the counter, “She made me better” he grins at me.

Collecting my plate, “And I can say the same thing about you” as I scrape my plate and put it into the dishwasher.

James grabs and dips me, planting a solid kiss on me.  My arms automatically wrap around his head.  There’s a chorus of “Ewww!”   “Get a room!”   “Dad!” from the table.  I know that I’m blushing when he puts me back on my feet.  Looking at the table, his kids are all smiling.

With so many hands helping, that meal is quickly put away.  I notice that Cali didn’t eat a whole lot.  James rubs his hands together.  “Now, someone was busy yesterday!” he gives me partial psycho grin.  He pulls out the big bins I’d found to store the cookies.

Marcella’s eyebrows are in her hairline, “You made those?”  I just nod.  “How many did you make?”

I shrug, “I tripled the recipe, so maybe 100?”

Castor collects the bin from James, “Holy shit!  You had to spend a lot of time baking!”

Hoisting a thumb at James, “He was cranking out something amazing, so I just kept baking.”

Putting his hands on hips, “So this is my fault?”  The grin on his face belays his words.  I just smile and nod at him.  Nodding, “I’m good with that.”

I pull all the frosting bowls out of the fridge, “These might be a little stiff since they are cold.”   There are eight different containers that I’d colored.  I pull all the butter knives out of the drawer.  James locates a couple of small spatulas.  He also grabs the bag of sprinkles.

I see Cali quietly rejoin the table.  CBF gives her a look.  She just smiles at him and takes a seat.

Castor pulls out a cookie and munches it.  “These are really good!”

“Thanks” I smile.

James munches one too.  “Grandmother?”  I nod.

“Grandmother?” Marcella asks.

“My Grandmother has an amazing collection of recipes.”

Asking softly, “Is she still around?”

“No.  She passed when I was twenty-six.”  Looking around, “We need something to put these on.”  I go grab a couple of big platters from the dining room table and turning almost face plant into James.

“You ok?” his concern genuine.

“Yes.”  I stand on tip toe and kiss his chin.  Seeing the look in his eyes, “I promise.  I’m ok.”

Looking at the platters in my hands, “We’re going to need more.”  He pats my ass as we go back to the kitchen.

The kids have dug into the cookie decorating with glee.  I set the platters on the table.  James comes back with some big plastic platters that he puts on the counter.  Then he joins in the fun.

Again, with so many hands, the cookies are mostly decorated in a short time.  Like anything with sprinkles, they are all over the table and floor.  Some of the cookies are elaborately done.  I feel like the few I did look as though they have been done by a grade schooler.  James smiles at me.  Then sucks frosting off his finger.  I squeeze my thighs together.  His grin goes mildly wicked.

“I have an idea!” James speaks up, “Let’s watch Stranger Things!”  Everyone is in agreement.

“Right after I’m done making cookies” Castor smiles at him.  “Please Dad?”

“Sure.  Let me help.”  James grabs about three undecorated ones and takes a bite out of the stack, his eyes sparkling.

I watch as Cali slips away quietly again.  I take one of the empty frosting dishes to the kitchen, put it into the dishwasher and fix a glass for Cali.

When she returns, “Hey Cali, come here a sec please.”  She comes into the kitchen.  “Here.”  I hand Cali the glass.

“What’s this?”

“A bicarb.”  She just looks at me.  “It’ll help your tum.”  I look at her, “And it won’t hurt the baby” I say softly.

She pales, “How do you know?”

Smiling gently at her, “Before Covid, I worked in an office that was mostly women.  Chug that.  Don’t sip.”  She does and gags slightly.  “I know it tastes weird and bad.” 

“What is it?”

“Baking soda and water.”

“That’s it?”

“Uh huh.  Give it a minute.  But be aware, that sometimes it might make you throw up more.”  I give her a lopsided smile.  “Is there anything that you can keep down?”

“Mostly just bread.”  She smiles gently, “And the cookies are ok.”

“I’ll make sure that there’s bread on the table for you.”  Suddenly she lets out a very large belch.  “You are your father’s daughter.”  She laughs.  “Feel better?”

“Yeah.  Thanks.”  She rubs her belly. 

I take the glass, “I’ll leave the box here.  A good sized spoonful and cold water.”

“Do you think Dad will be mad?”

“Why would he be mad?”

“We’re not married.”

“Ah.”  I look at her, “I don’t think so.  You are going to make him a Grandpa.”

Huffing a laugh, “Yeah.  The Mighty Papa Het will become The Mighty Grandpa Het!”  We both giggle.  “I have this”  she pulls out a sonogram photo from her purse, “I didn’t have the time to get a frame for it.”

Taking her hand, “Come with me.”

From the kitchen table, “Where are you two going?” came James’ voice.

Cali winces.  “Gift stuff” I say back.

“Hurry up!  We want to watch the show!” as he finishes munching the cookies in his hand.

“This will just take a minute Dad.”

I take her to the room that I’d claimed as my office.  Picking up the silver frame off my desk with two doodled post it notes, I pull them out and hand Cali the frame.

“This is from Tiffany’s.”  Her eyes wide.

“uh huh.”

“What did you take out?” her curiosity genuine.

I pick up the post it notes, “We got stuck in that September snowstorm.  We’d had a fight.  As an apology your Dad invited to me to dinner in the formal dining room by leaving these on the floor.”

“What are they?”

Holding out one, “Rose petals.”  Showing her the last one he’d given me where he’d drawn a full rose.

“That’s so romantic!”  She smiled.   “Are you sure it was Dad?”

“Yes, it was your Dad.”

“Why didn’t he just get a real rose?”

“Well, the 21 to 24 inches of snow on the ground and zero visibility might have had something to do with that.”  Cali just nods with a smile.  I open the closet and pull out the wrapping box, “Here’s a bag and some tissue.”  In a short time, the frame is wrapped in tissue and tucked into the bag.  Cali adds the gift tag and we were headed back up the stairs.  “Drop that under the tree” I whisper to her.  The kitchen table has been cleaned up.  The floor has even been swept.  I kinda like having a lot of hands to help out.  Going to James, I grab his hand, “C’mon.  You said that you wanted to watch the show” as I tug him towards the media room.  Within minutes, the eight of us are in the media room tucked under blankets and James starts Stranger Things, episode 1.

We only get three episodes watched when everyone is either yawning or lightly snoozing.  James powers off the system.  “Ok you dorks.  Bed time.”

There isn’t any push back from the kids.  As I walk past the kitchen, I start the dishwasher.  Looking out the window, James wraps an arm around me, his lips right by my ear, “Your Christmas wish.”  It’s snowing.  Hard.  I just smile up at him.  James takes my hand, and we go to our bedroom.  He pulls me to him and kisses me deeply.  “I told you that they’d like you.”  I caress his face and smile.  “I’m sorry about how it started with Marcella.  I should have ask…”

I press my fingers to his lips, “It’s ok.  So, there was a bump at the beginning.  At least it got taken care of.”  I pull his head to mine and kiss him.  “They are good kids.”  I kiss the end of his nose, “They are good young adults.”

He rolls his eyes.  “I know.  I can’t believe that they are all in their twenties.”

I squeeze a little tighter, “They will always be your kids.”

“And speaking of kids” James lets go of me and disappears into the closet.  He comes back with a shopping bag, “I need to stuff the stockings.”

“Hang on a second.”  I go into the closet and pull out the bag of stuffers I’d bought.  Going back to James, “I’ll help!”

He snakes an arm around me, kisses me, “Let’s do this!” he whispers conspiratorially.  As we make our way to the living room, James is softly humming the Mission Impossible theme.  I’m trying to not burst out laughing.  Once the items in our bags are distributed into the stockings we almost run back to our bedroom. 

He literally tosses me onto the bed before launching himself at me.  I grimace slightly and close my eyes.  He lands to my side but immediately grabs me and pulls me to him kissing me deeply.  We tug the clothes off the other, our lips not leaving each other’s except to pull off sweaters.  His hands are roaming my body when he suddenly stops.  His head pops up.  Then I hear it.  The unmistakable sounds of sex.  And not from us.  James drops his head to my neck.  “oooohh!”  I wrap my arms around his head trying to not giggle too hard.

“That’s not right” he mumbles into my neck.  “Them’s my kids.”  I stroke his hair.  His lips kiss my neck.  Leaning up on his elbow, “This is weird.”

“What?” my fingers gently caressing the nape of his neck.

“I mean I know it’s natural and all” there’s the loud noise of climax “but my kids.”  He whines and his eyebrows are knotted up.

“Here, let me help.  Computer, play classic Christmas music.”  The robotic voice answers, “Playing Christmas music from Kira’s Amazon Music.”  Mannheim Steamroller starts.  The sounds from outside our room are blurred out.  James rests his forehead against mine.  “Better?”  He nods.  I tug the covers behind me down and roll us that direction. 

He grabs the covers from under his hips and tugs them out then up over us as he lays down.  I rotate in his arms, curling around his right arm as my pillow, his left arm snugging me closer to his body.  His nose is buried in the back of my neck.  “Kira, Merry Christmas” as he gently kisses my neck.

I kiss his bicep, my fingers cupping his elbow, “Merry Christmas James” I whisper back.  His left arm tightens for a bit, then loosens as he drifts off to sleep.  I am not long behind him.

[winwintea]

Hehe I got a few questions ( idk how many but lesssgaurrr)

01. Name a song that makes you want to climb up a mountain and scream on top of your lungs

02. What country or place do you want to live in if you were given the chance?

03. What is your biggest fear?

04. What is the funniest/most awkward interaction you've ever had?

05. If you could meet a fictional character, who would that be?

almost heaven........... west virginyaaaaah blue ridge mountaaain shenandoah ribbber

2. finland. like theres nothing there but why does everything about finland sound so much better than everywhere else. canada is ok too i would say australia but racism there also kinda bad

3. being exactly like my parents (the mommy and daddy issues are real ok)

4. TOO MANY TO COUNT??? i do a bunch of random stuff. but for one example is when i saw my friend post one of her friends in her story and i told her that he looked cute. so she gave me his insta. and i proceeded to dm him. THEN I CHICKEDN OUT AND DELETED THE MESSAGE. AND HE SAW APPARENTLY?????? according to her. and he still follows me like 2 years later and sees my stories and we've never interacted. still haunts me to this day.

5. situweilian (jkjkjkkkkkkkk) ummmmmmmmmmmmm actually i can't think of an answer to this one probably "jimbotron" from mouthwashing so i can kill him die die die ide

[strwbrryfire]

burning, burning, burning : winter warmers day 002

✶ prompts: evening fire | coming untouched

✶ ship: landoscar

✶ words: 1,288

The second that Oscar crosses the finish line, the perpetual third place haunting his back tyres, is when the idea begins to take shape somewhere in the recesses of his mind. And when he walks into the media pen to see the heartbreak that’s almost tangible painted on Lando’s face, is when Oscar decides to make the idea a reality.

And Lando, two weeks later, still has no clue what that idea is. He’s peacefully asleep, the passenger seat put as far back as it can go, curled up into himself desperate for warmth.

“I’m gonna take us on a trip, okay?” Oscar had muttered into Lando’s hair as he cried in the dim light of his driver's room, “Somewhere so far from here, dove. So, so far.”

Oscar had chosen Colorado, at the suggestion of Logan, who swore that the Rocky Mountains were stunning this time of year. Oscar watches the temperature on the dash sink lower and lower—he almost begins to regret his choice of getaway, until the cabin finally comes into view. It’s a cozy little thing, A-frame cypress nestled away in between white dusted trees and snow capped peaks stretching farther than Oscar can see. There’s the quiet rush of a half frozen creek once he steps out into the setting sun, the air so crisp it stings his nose with the first intake of it.

“Fucking hell,” Lando mumbles, teeth chattering as he climbs out of the car in a bleary haze, “D’you take us to Antar…Antarc—”

“Antarctica, and no, Colorado. We’re about an hour outside of Denver, I think. Absolutely no one here to bother us but each other,” he smiles, and walks around to kiss Lando’s rosy cheek, “It’ll be nice and warm inside, I promise.”

—

Oscar adds one last log to the roaring fire before curling up next to Lando on the bean bag he had dragged up from downstairs. They practically melt into each other, Lando’s humming almost lulling Oscar to sleep.

“Thank you for this, baby,” Lando says softly, setting his cocoa down in favor of pulling the younger boy onto his lap, “So sweet. How did I get so lucky?”

Oscar wraps himself around his boyfriend, burying his face in the crook of Lando’s slightly ugly fairisle sweater, “You deserve it after…everything. Just everything. I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for something ending.”

“Yeah,” Lando laughs under his breath, hands finding their way through the tresses of Oscar’s hair, “Danny told me to look at the positives, though…we had lots of those, didn’t we? So many times I got to see you looking all pretty up on that podium.”

“And you too,” Oscar grins, peppering kisses wherever he can reach, “Y’know how proud I am of you, right?”

Lando’s cheeks go all rosy pink again, “I don’t think we need to go on another compliment spree…I know, Osc. I know how proud I am of you,” a kiss to his nose, “How grateful I am to have you as a teammate,” another to a mole right above his lips, “And I know that I love you. More than I could ever say.”

“Sap,” Oscar snorts, watching as he idly traces the creases on Lando’s palm, “I’d love you more if you had these where it counted.”

It’s embarrassing, that Oscar is chubbing up in his joggers just because of all this talk of love and pride and whatever have you. It’s embarrassing that he gets hard simply because he loves Lando a little bit too much. That just watching the crinkles by his eyes when he smiles, hearing his laugh, or holding his freakishly big hands—it all sends Oscar down a road paved by horny teenage petulance.

“Yeah?” Lando smirks and gets that hungry look in his eyes, his tongue catching on the back of his teeth as he watches Oscar grind down mindlessly for any kind of friction, “Gotta keep you warm now, don’t I? Go on, get your kit off and get the lube. S’in the bathroom.”

Oscar whines in protest but gets up anyway, “Really? So far away?”

“You’ll live, baby, I’m sure. And no touching!” Lando calls out, biting his lip as he watches Oscar leave.

With each step, a layer gets discarded to be tripped over later, but Oscar finds what he’s looking for and makes a beeline back to where he fits best. Lando’s got his clothes off, his cock laying hard and leaking against his stomach, “See, that wasn’t too bad. Now come here, you sexy thing.”

Oscar laughs into Lando’s mouth, then licks into greedily, wanting and wanting and wanting. His heart feels like soaring when Lando’s hands find their way to Oscar’s ass, kneading and pressing in his cold, lube-covered fingers.

“Jesus,” Oscar moans, head lolling to the side, “I-Is it weird that I’m fucking obsessed with your, oh, with your hands?”

Lando hums, scissoring two fingers in and out meticulously, “Nah. I’m obsessed with yours, with how tiny they are. So dainty, you are—” his teeth find the mole on the right side of Oscar’s neck and he bites at the skin it lays upon, “Like stars, pretty boy.”

“Yeah, yeah, please,” Oscar’s pants, riding Lando’s fingers in a wild act of desperation. He feels tears welling up behind his blown out pupils as he begs, “Please, fuck me Lan, I need it so bad, please.”

“Precious boy,” Lando mumbles against the expanse of Oscar’s collarbone, gentle in his thrust into undeniable comfort that Oscar sinks into with ease, making a high pitched noise of content gratifaction. Oscar’s movements are immediate, desperate, with punched out little whines, “God, look at you. Proper crying for it, aren’t you?”

Oscar’s hair flops in front of his eyes as he frantically nods, “Always…so, s’good,” he hiccups on a sob and wraps his arms around Lando’s neck, gripping onto his own forearms for balance, “Big, so big and, and—fuck.”

Lando’s not even meeting his thrusts, just watching slack jawed and fuzzy brained as Oscar rides him so eagerly. The crackling of the fire, the way Oscar’s thighs meet Lando’s so perfectly, their breathy moans—Lando wishes he could bottle this moment up and listen to it whenever he wanted, “So fucking perfect, Osco. Pretty when you cry, baby, cause it feels so good, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Oscar whimpers, and rests his forehead against Lando’s, their hands on top of each other against Lando’s head of unruly curls, “Love you, ah—wan’you, just like this…forever, please.”

“Oh, precious,” Lando presses their lips together, all sloppy and uncoordinated, holding Oscar’s head like he’s the most precious thing in the world—because he is—and whispers in the sparks between their mouths, “I love you, too, Osc.”

And it's a second stretched into infinity—a pinewood haziness encompasses Oscar's brain as his breath is taken with smoke up the chimney. The night sky stars dance in his vision, imploding where his fingertips grip at Lando's hair. He attempts to gasp out Lando's name or a repeated expression of gratitude but it's all—it's all burning supernova euphoria through every neuron of his body. Oscar is shaking with it, the whimpers coming out as staccato notes of a symphony Lando conducts so beautifully.

Lando's hands encompass Oscar's wine colored cheeks, the cold a relief that almost snaps him back into reality, "Hah, baby…pretty boy, fuck..."

Oscar's floating with the electricity in his veins, a constant stream of whines like sparks out of his mouth. It crescendos as Lando meets Oscar's trembling thighs, filling him up with warmth and moans and missing breaths—Oscar is sure this is what happens when a galaxy is born.

[denverneumann]

It had been years since Denver had seen an Arena with snow in it. Most Arenas, if nature-based, tended to feature hot and humid areas. But this...it was a mountain, just like the ones people used to try and climb before the Dark Days. She had to call her father later, and get his reaction. Maybe he'd tell some of his old stories.

And then a gnawing settled in her gut, and Denver looked around, the fairytale excitement fading as the expressions of the others watching the screens didn't match her awe. They were worried instead, and of course they were. So many of those in the Arena this time were friends, were loved ones, were victors who had already sacrificed for the promise of peace. Children and the elderly were expected to fight adult athletes in their prime.

"What do you think?" she asked, quietly, not particularly caring who she was talking to when she was so unsure of every single one of her emotions.

[hongjoongpresent]

Shoutout to is it love by john denver for that time **** cheated on me while I was on vacation and right after finding that out we went on a trip to climb a mountain and my dad put on our john denver cd in the car and I yelled along to this song. Shoutout to is it love by john denver

[beni75]

Text and 📸 @ladzinski

1-. Long exposure over the iconic Poincenot and Fitzroy range in Patagonia

2-. @arjandekock taking the high road high above the Cape of Good Hope, South Africa

3-. Too much beauty left to explore in Iceland

4. Stars streaking across the sky taken during a long exposure from twilight into the late hours of the night over the iconic Matterhorn in Zermatt Switzerland

5-. Sunrise at Slangkop Lighthouse. South Africa

6-. Sunset at Jökulsárlón just kept on going last night (4-7-2015). Iceland

7-. The Colorado Trail extends roughly 486 miles beginning in Denver and ending in Durango Colorado

8-. The mood here in Iceland has been cold and wet all week but the scenes are stunning

9-. The painted beauty of Escalante Grand Staircase National Park

10-. Ship wrecked at Stokness, Iceland

11-. On the hunt, an Arctic Tern navigating through small icebergs in search of fish

12-. Pájaro carpintero

13-. On the hunt, an Arctic Tern navigating through small icebergs in search of fish

14. On the hunt, an Arctic Tern navigating through small icebergs in search of fish

15-. Scrub Jay enjoying that Colorado Mountain life

16-. Vervet monkey

17-. The Queen of the veld. An alpha female lioness surveying the land as she leads the pride slowly across the bush in the fading light of the day

18-. Switerzland

19-. Stormy afternoon in the remote fjords of Greenland

20-. 3 horse rides from the Cheff family in mirrored reflection at the foot of the Mission Mountains near their ranch in Charlo Montana

21-. When you climb Kilimanjaro yo get to experience 5 distinct ecosystems, it's a surreal experience. See here, the foggy rain forest near the Machame Gate

22-. A paraglider floating on thermals high above grindelwald Switzerland

[conradscrime]

National Park Nightmare: Jane Constantino

April 18, 2023

Jane Constantino was born in 1947 and grew up in Long Island. Jane moved to New York to attend college, and after graduating she worked for several years as a social worker. 

Jane soon grew tired of her life and knew she wanted more -- she wanted to travel around the world and see things, experience things, live life to the fullest. Jane traveled to Europe, where she met a man there who was from Denver, Colorado. 

Jane fell quickly and the two returned to the United States and continued their relationship, eventually getting married. Jane moved to Colorado, but unfortunately their marriage only lasted two years. 

The end of her marriage though did not mean that Jane was going to leave the Denver area, she actually loved Denver and had loved the area so decided to continue living there by herself. She rented a small apartment and took up a job as a waitress, working 6-7 days a week to be able to afford this apartment. 

Jane lived minimally, driving a new car, wearing second hand clothes, while saving most of her money. She wanted to use the money to travel and explore. Jane earned a lot of tips, some saying she was one of the best waitresses they had. 

Jane began getting feelings that she was not going to live to be an old lady, instead she felt that her time on Earth was short and that she was going to die young. Because of this premonition, Jane wanted to live life to the fullest and have as many experiences as she possibly could. 

She would work like a dog for the majority of the year, and then take a few months off so that she could travel. Due to her having all of these wonderful experiences exploring and travelling the world, Jane had run into a few near death situations. 

In 1974, Jane was 27 years old and went to Wyoming to climb the Teton mountain range. She was struck by lightening at 14,000 feet, and she clung to the side of the mountain. She walked down to the nearest ranger station, where she had been burned incredibly badly. 

Jane had to stay in the hospital for almost a month, leaving with a huge scar which she called her “Badge of Life.” 

Jane actually had a fear of drowning, and water, despite her seemingly fearless in nature. Jane actually began kayaking, despite almost drowning in Alaska. She also conquered her fear of water by scuba diving. 

Her third brush with death happened when she fell in Yosemite, while climbing, only leaving with a broken ankle and a concussion. 

Jane took up bicycling, wanting to bicycle from Nova Scotia to New York. She almost died during this, getting hit by a truck. She was only in the hospital for a few days, and then left and finished her bike ride to New York. 

In 1979, she was 32 years old, and kept climbing mountains and bicycling. Jane then began to feel like she was slowing down, her previous injuries starting to ache. Jane then rode from Denver to New York with her brother. Jane then wanted to ride from Denver to Washington in the same summer. 

Jane was going to ride solo from Denver to Cape Alava, in Olympic National Park. Jane made plans with her friends in Seattle, to meet up with them on July 24, 1979 after she had finished this journey on Cape Alava. 

On July 23, 1979, the park had a lot of hikers, and a group of hikers noticed a woman who appeared to have fainted in the middle of a trail. The woman had not fainted, she had actually been stabbed multiple times. This woman was Jane Constantino. 

The hikers notified authorities immediately. Authorities discovered Jane had been stabbed 6 times in the chest, she was still clothed and there appeared to be no signs of sexual assault. They initially believed she must of known her killer, that this was a crime of passion or had been stalked. 

Authorities believed a man was her killer, as Jane was extremely strong and fit due to her physical activity, they determined it was unlikely that a woman would not be able to have overpowered her. 

News quickly spread about the fact that a dangerous person was likely still in that area, as it appeared Jane had recently died when the hikers found her. Other hikers were notified of this, especially women hikers who were travelling alone. One woman told authorities that before Jane was discovered, she was hiking alone in the same area when a weird man approached her from behind. 

She described him as being in his 30′s-40′s, wearing a purple t-shirt, but had a dark demeanour. He had curly hair that was sticking out from a cowboy hat and he was large, over 6 feet tall. The man told her he was a photographer from Playboy and offered $50 for her to pose nude for him right there in the park. 

As she was about to say no, the man noticed another woman, and immediately dropped the conversation, leaving the original woman free to get out of there as quickly as possible. The woman said she was almost sure the other woman the man noticed was Jane Constantino. 

The authorities soon came across this man wearing a purple shirt, and although the shirt did not appear to have any blood on it, it was soaking wet. They searched the man but he refused to answer any questions, only stating that his name was Dale Harrison. While searching they found Dale had rope and a hunting knife with him. 

Dale was arrested and because the crime took place on national property, the FBI took over the case. Dale was visiting the park that day, and originally lived in a small farming town in Washington. He had been arrested several times before, 20 years ago, including molesting young girls. 

Dale’s purple shirt had been dunked in ocean water, but there was blood on some of the fibres. The hunting knife matched the wounds on Jane, and several hikers picked him out of a lineup. Dale played dumb at first, claiming he didn’t know a murder had taken place. 

He then changed his story and said he had witnessed the murder, but was not a part of it. He said he did not come forward because he thought he would be looked at as a suspect. 

One of Dale’s friends came forward claiming Dale had told him about a fantasy he had about finding a woman alone in a park, tying her up, and making her his sex slave. Dale’s friend also claimed Dale had asked him to join in on this fantasy, though the friend did not want to be a part of this. 

Dale went to trial in 1980, and was sentenced to life in prison without the chance of parole. Ann Rule, famous true crime writer who wrote about Ted Bundy, also wrote about Jane’s case in one of her books, theorizing that perhaps Dale did not intend to actually murder Jane, rather he wanted to play out this sex slave submissive fantasy, and perhaps Jane fought back due to her being incredibly fit and strong, and Dale was not prepared for this, making him angry and lashing out to kill her. 

 Jane was the first person in the Olympic park’s 42 year history to be murdered, she died at 32 years old, meaning her premonition of dying young was right.