#everyone seems to have picked an easier decorative element

[dummerjan]

Ok but I would love to hear about your tailoring? That’s amazing, speak to me of the soutache! Do you have opinions on thimbles?!

Sorry for taking so long to reply. But I just finished the first sample (of two) of what I will be sewing during my journeyman exam in June and am really excited about that, so now seems like a fitting occasion since it's the source of my soutache themed dreams (thankfully not yet nightmares, but I have been dreaming an awful lot about sewing and class). Prepare for a barely filtered infodump. Here, the finished sample:

(The buttons are temporary, I just didn't have anything else. I am either going with black ones or do fabric covered buttons myself. I also hate how I ended the soutache on the back of the yoke. It should continue into the seam of the zipper so it's continuous. I don't know what I was thinking with ending it abruptly.)

Opinions on thimbles... Use them! I didn't until I started my apprenticeship and I've been converted. I don't have the typical metal cone ones but this one by Prym, I don't find the other ones comfortable. But Clover has an interesting metal one I'd like to try, partially because it makes me think of medieval armour. Leather thimbles also seem to me popular because they aren't that rigid and can be made yourself. And did you know sashiko thimbles are a thing? They cover the part below the middle finger since the motion during stitching is quite different and the fabric is gathered onto the needle which is then pushed by your palm and not just your finger. Now onto the soutache. If you don't know what it is: it's a braid made out of threads that are woven and braided around two cords.

Nowadays made out of synthetic filaments (viscose, polyester) but I've also found a German manufacturer of cotton and linen soutache. For the journeyman exam we need to make a combination of skirt, dress or trousers and coat or blazer. Skirt and blazer is what most do and is what requires less time. We have five days (40 hours) during which we have to do all the sewing and also cutting out fabric for the lining, so everything that's done after the first fitting. And part of that is a decorative element of our own choosing, which needs to fill 8 hours. It can be embroidery, appliqu�� pleats, ruffles, beading, rouleaux trim, pleating and so on. Stupid me decided to do soutache. Because I've wanted to try it for years and been admiring it on garments from second half of the 19th and early 20th century during which it was really popular. Nowadays it can be most often found on uniforms and costumes.

This is my inspiration:

Actually buying soutache, good quality soutache, is the first hurdle. I've gathered a wide arrange of braid from all over but not all is suitable to my needs. I wouldn't have thought before but the braid needs to be rather firm for a nice, even result without turning out wonky, especially with curved lines. Of which I have many. Sewing braid on fabric sounds deceivingly easy. And in theory it is, but getting it just right (especially with something that requires symmetry) is a headache. And a lot of it already comes down to how you transfer the pattern onto your fabric. One way is to trace the pattern on thin, to pin it to your fabric and then to sew along the traced lines. Tear away the paper and you're left with a pattern of stitches to follow.

But placing that paper just right, especially across seams that are not forgiving when it comes to symmetry. The paper slips and especially the curved lines are super difficult to sew along and turns out wonky more often than I'd like. It's easier to follow the curves when applying the soutache actually, I have more control. I used this method for the soutache on the back of the jacket and while I am happy with it, even if it isn't perfect, I doubt it would suffice for my exam. I am going to go with a smaller design and also one where the bows only go across one seam. Knowing this, I chose a fusible interfacing for the skirt yoke that I could draw on, much easier, and much more accurate even if the braid itself isn't always even in the end. Not done by a machine after all.

wrong side of the yoke, the blue is water soluble pen, and then one line of stitching to transfer the pattern to the right side and one of applying the braid

There are presser feet for applying braid but while they help with not having to hold the braid, the foot itself covers the lines I want to follow. Great for relatively straight lines but not an option for the bows. There is an attachment called an underbraider that was made for old domestic machines. They allow you to sew with the wrong side facing up while the braid is attached to the right side. But I haven't been able to figure out what it's called in German and if I can buy one somewhere. But I do have an antique singer it could be used with. For the details around the slits in the sleeves I've tried yet another method and shaped the bows beforehand and then basted them onto the fabric. It's good for such small designs, and especially that specific area because of the challenges the seam allowances and the underside of the slit presents, which can't be caught in the stitching and the stitching has to be hidden by the lining later on. Still a bit trial and error.

An issue with this particular soutache braid is that the cords at its core don't match the outside, they are white! And sometimes they show, which is rather unsightly. So not an option for my exam.

The one that's perfect in terms of firmness and actually has the the same coloured cords (the yellowish one above) is no longer being produced and the remaining colours don't fit my fabric.

I bought enough fabric for two suits out of the blue and one out of the red and wanted to use the blue fabric for my exam but given the soutache braid issues, I am considering going with red fabric and blue soutache (if I have enough meters, I need to measure). I think that combination is lovely.

I am also considering going with a different skirt pattern. I like it by itself but not as an ensemble. It's too flowy due to the bias cut and doesn't go well with the firmer lines of the blazer, I think. But given the poofy sleeves, I think the skirt has to be flared or be much shorter, a mini skirt, and close fitting. And as it is, the jacket covers the top of the design on the yoke. But that's why it's the first sample of two I am going to sew before the final exam. Also, let me take the opportunity to show off the rather neat buttonholes I stitched today.

Also, while I am already rambling about my sewing: I love sewing by hand and I especially love slip stitching (and I am really good at it). I'd happily be the person always doing the slip stitching for everyone. We have the option of inserting the entire jacket lining by hand or just do the sleeve and jacket hems by hand and attach the lining to the facing by machine. I hope I can make it work time wise and do it by hand.

And tagging @whirling-ghost because you are always on the receiving end of my sewing related rambles (and plenty of the other ones too and have been for years). You're the best! <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Sticking Point 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: I'm moving tomorrow.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The tension turns roiling. Even in such airy halls, you cannot escape it, not that you venture very far from your rooms. It seems with each interaction, your relationship with your fiance only grows more fraught. You needn’t wonder why. It’s the very same reason your own father regards you with derision. You’re defective, less than what he hoped for. 

You sit in the window seat, looking over the greenery that reflects Jade Garden’s title. It’s a home anyone would covet and yet it feels as a penitentiary might. These walls are unyielding and the isolation suffocating. 

Your visions drifts into the distance as the leaves turn to green smears blending into the dimming blue of the sky. You close your eyes and turn your head straight, leaning against the wall as you hook your arms around your legs. 

A banquet. It’s less than a proper debut. You’re not certain anyone would be expecting you, or even know who you are. Will they be surprised when they hear your father’s name?  

There are things you know. Things you must ready yourself for. Certainly, there will be jeers, mocking whispers, and errant giggles. Just the same as anyone ever reacted to you. Even the farmhands would echo your speech and laugh bawdily. It hardly matter’s your a lord’s daughter when you sound so ridiculous. 

You hang your head and sigh. It isn’t just one banquet, it is the beginning of a lifetime of events. You will not only face this one night, but many anon. You will be the one they speak of behind their hands and the joke at the card tables. 

You stand, made restless by your dread. The window darkens with the evening’s arrival. Doreen raps at the door and leaves a tray of supper. You pick at it but don’t eat much. You must keep yourself busy so your mind is not. 

You go to your chests. You will need Doreen to unpack these soon. It’s as if the longer you leave them full, the less assured your fate. You might still strap them up and flee. 

You know that isn’t truly an option. 

You take out a gown the shade of cooked pumpkin with an overlay that lends it a bronzish hue. The bodice is trimmed with an eyelet effect and the hem of the cap sleeves and skirt finely threaded with beads. You lay it out on the chaise and find a pair of slippers to go with it and ribbon for your hair decorated with black onyx and brass. 

If Edith could see you then. It should be her in your place. That thought rings louder and louder, bolstered by the constant disapproval. 

You back away from your attire, spinning so you won’t have to look upon it. You never thought to miss home so much. Not your parents, you’re certain they hardly grieve your absence, but for the familiarity, for the simple walls and memories. Edith is there, even gone, you know you would see her in every cushion and every corner. 

You go to the door and listen. As silent as ever. You emerge into the corridor and make careful progress on the pads of your feet. You come to the top of the stairwell and peer down on the foyer. For all it’s beauty, this place is rather grim. 

You descend and let your eyes lead you. You take in every ornament, every statue, every door trim, and every tile of the floor. You want to know it all. You don’t want to feel so lost. 

You find your way along to the sunroom. Upon your approach, the door opens and you falter. A lithe figure emerges. You press yourself to the wall, unready for Loki’s appearance. He has a snifter of liquor in hand as he glowers in the light of a lantern in his other.  

He steps towards you and pauses, lifting the light higher to cast over you. His breath escapes him derisively. He lowers the lantern and sniffs. 

“Like a rat, you skitter incessantly,” he remarks. 

“My Lawd,” you push away from the wall and angle away from him. 

“I am speaking to you. Do not go until I give leave to,” he demands. 

You stop and face him again, hands meeting in apprehension. 

“This banquet business,” his nostrils flare, “I will not be humiliated. Not as you have tonight.” 

“My Lawd, I have been twained in etiq—etiqwette,” you insist. 

He scoffs, “your manners hardly bother me. Certainly you might have some grain of awareness.” 

You seal your lips. He’s said it plainly, as you have. He might be able to close his ears to your impediment but it is with you always. 

“Perhaps you might keep your words to a minimum,” he advises, “select them wisely.” 

You stare at him, cheeks fiery and eyes tinging, “If you would wather, I might make an excuse. A sudden malady, my lawd. I’d hate to stain your chawacter.” 

His eyes roll to the side and his features sharpen, “more would be said were I to appear without my betrothed after my mother’s promises.” 

That he has referred to your nuptials is not so nice as it should be. He speaks to it as a sentence. You look him in the face. 

“It won’t eva go away,” you say. 

“Hm, I only need get through the wedding night,” he retorts and you can’t help but wince. 

You swallow, your hurt turning bitter. “As do I.” 

His head tilts and he squints. He lets out another snort, “pardon?” 

“My sista would’ve hated you,” you whisper. “You did not desawve to know haw.” 

“Be wary,” he steps closer. 

“You make an enemy of me, not I you,” you lift your chin.  

He’s silent. He shifts even closer. So near, you have to keep from wilting away. You stare back at him defiantly, heart beating. 

“You do not know yet what it is to have me as an enemy so you best mind your mannaws,” he mocks your cadence with his last word. 

Your lip trembles as he green eyes sparkle like dark emeralds in the lantern lights. Your chest is a flurry of hurt and anger. What have you ever done to him, or anyone, to make them so spiteful? You swing your arm against his to knock the snifter from his hand, sending a splash of alcohol across the wall and and his vest. The smell is acrid and sour. 

You back away from him, horrified at your reaction. You have learned to restrain yourself, to tamp it all down, to swallow it with a smile and say nothing. In that moment, you simply cannot. You shake your head as your face twists in despair. 

“I would wather an enemy, saw,” you hiss, “as I would be ashamed to call a cad like you husband.” 

His glare flashes and he sways as if he might lunge at you. He rights himself and his brow arches. His lips draw and his cheeks pale. 

“Very well.” 

He spins on his heel and stomps away, the light limning his silhouette sinisterly. You stare after him mortified. What has come over you? You were never bold or brazen or brutal to any. Edith would be disappointed. A gentle soul like her could never even think a hot word. 

You fall back against the wall and clutch your hands over your chest. Is this to be your life? Are you to live in loathing, not only of that man but of yourself. To be castigated for the lilt of your own tongue, the very pulse of your existence? You’d thought your father a villain but this man has proven himself worse. 

Worst than his distaste is your own futility, for he has assured you there is nothing you might do to appease him. As he is bound to you most miserably, so are you vowed to the same fate. Not even in that might you commiserate. 

🔹

You sit in front of the mirror, holding the brooch over the table, feeling the embroidery with the pad of your thumb. You turn it over and back again. It’s the only piece of your sister you have left. Every day she feels further away from you. Every morning, you awake, expecting to hear her, to see her, and she is not there, and you are not at home. 

You peer up at your reflection as your hand hovers over the painted wood. You’ve not touched a tress or cheek. You must ready, you know it, but your reticence is like chains on your wrists. You know what you are to face but knowing cannot make it any less unpleasant. 

A knock comes at the door. You call for the maid to enter, thinking Doreen’s come to remind you again of your pending engagement. The maid opens the door but says nothing, letting in the duchess instead. Lady Frigga is almost rapturous in a dressing gown of peach fabric as her hair is set already in tight curls around an elegant chignon. You stand, apologising for your misstep. 

“Dear, it is quite forgivable,” she assures, “I only meant to look in on you before the banquet, to be certain you do not require anything, but darling, oh,” she sweeps towards you and cups your cheeks, “you’ve not even begun. What is the matter?” 

“There is no issue,” you lie, “I mewely let time escape me.” 

You smile and gently pull away, turning back to the vanity. You open your hand and once more consider the pin. 

“Is this the dress you mean to wear?” Frigga asks as she crosses the room in a swish of silk. You peer over your shoulder as she looks down on the orange fabric. “It is a rather keen shade.” 

“Yes, my lady,” you answer in a dulcet tone. You cannot find a glimmer of concern for your attire. 

She sighs and returns to you, holding the ribbon you’ve chosen, “these are far too dour,” she touches an onyx, “haven’t you some pearls?” 

“Somewhaw...” You bend your neck, staring at the bluebird, at Edith’s handiwork. You remember the day she gave it to you and the way she smiled so proudly. How she pinned it on you herself and made you go around and show all. 

“Oh, dear, that won’t go at all. It would be nice for a lunch, no doubt, but not for a banquet,” she remarks and you close your hand around the brooch. You put your shoulders straight and face her. 

“I have a pawl band in my chest,” you resign and step around her. 

You go to the chest and sift around, careful not to let the brooch slip from your grasp. You take out the pearls on the ivory band and show it to her. She tuts. 

“It won’t go with this gown,” she insists. 

“Yes, the onyx--” 

“Mmp, I prefer pearls. Darling, you must be your best. It is your first social appearance. I do not say this to demean you, only to assist. I know your own mother cannot be here to see you debut but I cannot imagine her pain at this moment. So much loss. Both daughters at once, in a way,” she bemoans. 

Yes, you think of your mother too. You know she won’t be well. Nor your father. All their hopes and dreams dashed in a deficient daughter sent to carry a legacy on with a spiteful husband who mightn’t even have the stomach to deliver one. 

“I vewy much appweciate it, lady,” you make yourself smile, “I suppose it must be nawvs.” 

“Suppose it must,” she hums, “how about you wear the orange gown and I fetch you a feather pin from my own collection? I have a fabulous ostrich and topaz piece,” she assures, “and some black lace gloves. Ooh, yes, dear, we will make certain all is perfect.” 

“Thank you, Lady Fwigga, but it isn’t necessawy--” 

“You are to be my daughter, of course it is,” she preens. “Besides, who shall notice anything but how splendid you look?” 

She twists on her heel and your smile dwindles. You know what is meant. What she will not state plainly. Perhaps a fine outfit might distract from your crooked consonants. You sit on the stool again and watch her go. 

Even those who are kind cannot help their thoughts. She mightn’t be cruel about it, but you can hear the disappointment in her pandering cooing. You are not the daughter she wanted just as you are not the wife her son wanted. Just as you do not want to be as you are. 

[gemstonesgalaxy]

JEWELRY OF WOMEN'S IN 5 DESIGN ARE AVAILABLE

Interested persons contact us

Use Every woman desires to dress up in the most glamorous and chic way. However, when a workplace is obsessed with design and appearance, dressing becomes a difficult job. Each of us knows that when someone at work wears flashy office jewellery to match the dress For this cause, few women limit themselves to wearing jewellery for office wear because of money. And, upholding the decorum of the workplace is vital, but it doesn't necessarily mean losing your style. Nearly every woman considers it a difficult challenge to pick the best jewellery. Working women find jewellery much easier because of their packed lives.  And non-working women can but some women can find the best jewellery then working women can’t. You will appreciate how challenging this can be if you have to pick the right piece to complement your office suit every morning. Regardless of the kind of job you have to make it easier to find a perfect item, it is necessary to create a good jewellery collection. It will serve as a perfect way to enhance your look in the workplace by selecting those iconic bits of daily-wear jewellery that match your wardrobe. Therefore, to complement your formal dress, make sure to keep your office-wear jewellery simple and not go for the bling that ruins the look. To get you started, we have handpicked these pieces of jewellery. And some of the women's jewellery for office wears

1. Stylish Rings :

Of the first things to come to mind when dreaming about must-have jewellery for what woman is a trendy bracelet. Rings are not only flexible; they are easy to wear and these tiny pieces fit well while dreaming about jewellery to wear to work. They are discrete and pair well with any office uniform. They come from diamond infinity rings, diamond marriage rings, engagement rings, anniversary rings, artificial rings and several more styles. Whatever your fashion sense, every single day you can find a good ring to wear to work or to party. Do not go for  flashy and large items while looking for the right ring to work, which would take away from your formal look 

Jewellery rings are exquisite adornments that have captivated humanity for centuries, serving as symbols of love, commitment, status, and personal expression. Crafted with meticulous attention to detail, these miniature masterpieces come in a myriad of styles, materials, and designs, each bearing its own unique allure. jewellery rings are more attractive in looks

2). Stud Earring :

Without wearing a pair of earrings, most women find it difficult to walk out of the door. These tiny accessories offer a huge punch when it comes to style and they help you make a discreet fashion statement at work when worn properly. For e.g., dazzling diamond studs talk loudly about your fashion sense and bold style. Go for either tiny stud or hoop earrings as they help you to respond in a very relaxed way to your phone calls. Take a little effort to jazz up your look with these stunning rose gold stud earrings with solid stones in an adorable overlapping pattern when you pick a peach-coloured top with a matching pencil skirt! Stud earrings are still sure to add the much-needed dose of glamour to every ensemble with the combination of a single white gem

Stud earrings are a classic and versatile accessory that adds a touch of elegance and sophistication to any outfit. Unlike dangling or hoop earrings, studs are characterized by their simple and understated design, featuring a single gemstone, metal ball, or other decorative element attached to a post that goes through the earlobe.

3). Luxury Watch :

Now a watch may not seem like a fantastic accessory, but it is just what you need to complete your outfit in a very formal environment. Not only does a designer watch improve your look, but it also makes a point about your personality as well. And it shows everyone who looks at your bold attitude and professionalism, it is more than a realistic accessory. A stunning watch gives you a sleek, sophisticated and captivating look, which is important in the work

Luxury watches are more than just timekeeping devices; they are exquisite pieces of craftsmanship, engineering, and style that symbolize elegance, prestige, and luxury. These watches are crafted using the finest materials and meticulous attention to detail, resulting in timepieces that are both functional and visually stunning.

The hallmark of luxury watches lies in their exceptional quality and craftsmanship. They are often made from premium materials such as high-grade stainless steel, precious metals like gold or platinum, and scratch-resistant sapphire crystals for the watch face. The movements of luxury watches can vary from quartz to mechanical, with some brands renowned for their in-house, handcrafted mechanical movements that showcase the pinnacle of watchmaking expertise

In addition to their exceptional craftsmanship and design, luxury watches often carry a sense of heritage and prestige associated with renowned watchmaking houses that have been producing timepieces for generations. Brands like Rolex, Patek Philippe, Audemars Piguet, and Omega are synonymous with luxury and are coveted by watch enthusiasts and collectors worldwide.

4). Stylish Necklace :

To choose something trendy to wear, you can pick from several types of necklaces. Remember to pick a hue that fits best for your skin tone when buying a necklace. More significantly, don't opt for styles with flashy or gaudy necklaces that will detract the ensemble from the rest. Your ensemble complements a good necklace for the office and does not fight for publicity. It subtly works its magic and spruces the look while supplying you with a formal look

A stylish necklace can serve as the pièce de résistance of any outfit, elevating your look from ordinary to extraordinary with its shimmering allure and captivating design. Picture a gracefully crafted piece, delicately adorning your neckline like a work of art.

Stylish necklaces come in a myriad of styles, from minimalist chic to bold and extravagant. Whether adorned with pearls, crystals, or precious metals, each necklace tells its own unique story, reflecting the wearer's personality and sense of style. magine a sleek, silver chain intertwined with sparkling gemstones, each facet catching the light and casting a mesmerizing glow. Or perhaps envision a statement pendant suspended from a dainty gold chain, exuding sophistication and charm with its intricate detailing.

4. Shades OF Pearls :

Want to look less garish in your shoes, so your best friend is Pearls. They are sleek. They are elegant. And it can never be too flashy for them! And if you wear simple-looking official office wear, Pearl strings will bring a stunning touch to it. With any attire, basic South Sea Pearl Studs go and make you feel lady-like! And don't fear playing with layered Pearl bracelets and pairing them with your formal ethnic wear.

Shades of pearls encompass a breathtaking spectrum of colors, each imbued with its own distinct allure and charm. From the classic creamy white of traditional pearls to the enchanting hues of pink, lavender, and even black, these exquisite gems showcase nature's artistry in its most delicate form. White pearls, with their timeless elegance and luminous luster, are perhaps the most iconic. Symbolizing purity and sophistication, they effortlessly enhance any ensemble with their understated beauty

[snarkywrites]

Sunday Horoscopes (Weekly) September 18th - 24th

Horoscopes for Sunday, September 18th through September 24th, 2022. Check Rising, Sun, and Moon signs.

Aries – You are going to feel your communication increase during the Sun in Libra’s transit. This is a time when relationship energy could be related to romance, but it could be an excellent period to strengthen your current friendships by being more honest and open with your feelings. You are inspired during this week, so pick up your pen and paper and start to write up plans for your next big project.

Taurus – For the next 30 days, you are going to be a lot more energized and focused on producing and creating. It is a period where you could feel unstoppable as the Sun in Libra has activated your house of work. It is also important for you not to burn out, especially since you could be feeling on top of the world. Bring a healthy balance to your work and rest time.

Gemini – One of the bigger transits this week is the Sun entering air sign Libra on the 22nd, making you feel a lot more in your element. During this period you could see your social life transform, there could be healing from old relationships and you might be inspired to start new projects. Overall, you are in the zone.

Cancer – With the Sun entering Libra on the 22nd, you are going to embrace the healing and creative qualities of this transit. Venusian energy is going to allow you to focus on home decor, self-healing, and spending quality time with friends.

Leo – The Moon will enter your sign towards the middle of the week, giving you that fire energy you have probably craved. Mars in Gemini brings you a supportive aspect, making it easier to reconnect with friends during this retrograde season. The Sun enters Libra on Thursday, so for the next 30 days, you could see your social life be more active.

Virgo – Mercury will re-enter your sign on Friday, September 23rd shifting the topics back to the self and your plans and goals. Mars in Gemini also has you reconnecting with your career goals and ambitions. The Sun will move into Libra on Thursday, initiating a new cycle where you can focus more on self-love and care. 

Libra – During this week, the Sun enters your sign, giving you confidence and a creative boost. Mercury prepares to reenter the sign of Virgo. It could be a time when you revisit some topics relating to yourself from a month ago. Remember to take things easy, not rush and be patient since Mercury will have you focusing on meditation and healing energy.

Scorpio – There is a lot of focus on career and friendships now that the Moon will be moving into Leo towards the middle of the week. This is a good time to feel grounded since Venus and the Sun are still in Virgo. You will find a good support system in your friends while this retrograde energy has you healing and growing within.

Sagittarius – The last couple of weeks might have felt a little stressful, but this week things could shift in your favor as the Moon enters the sign of Leo towards the middle of the week. The Sun enters Libra on the 22nd, making you reflect on your dreams and the people in your life that support them. You could see supportive energy from others in the next 30 days that will allow you to take smaller steps towards your visions.

Capricorn – Everyone seems to be feeling a lot more romantic this week with the Sun entering Libra on the 22nd. The Moon in Cancer will make it a warm and cozy time as Mercury re-enters Virgo on the 23rd. You are in reflective mode as you think about your career prospects and get plans into motion. Take this week to curate your goals and objectives.

Aquarius – You kick off the week with a lot of focus and drive as Mars in Gemini is still making an aspect to your sign. Towards the middle of the week, you will focus more on keeping up with your tasks and those partnerships in your life. It could be a good time to reconnect with an old friend.

Pisces – This week will be a little entertaining for you since it will allow you to get out of your shell for a few days. You have a lot of positive creative energy in the works as Venus in Virgo makes you feel more romantic and inspired. Libra Season begins on the 22nd, adding healing energy for the next 30 days. 

[ushidoux]

November Baby - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: Wakatoshi offers you a little more than just chocolate and flowers on Valentine’s Day. (~2.7k words)

Warnings: breeding kink, pregnancy talk, cisfem!reader, nsfw

A/N: Breeding kink and big one-track minded boy just go hand in hand. This is for @prettysetterbaby’s Valentine’s Day collab!

---

Wakatoshi never told you directly that he wanted children, but he signaled so in every possible way. 

It was initially subtle - of course, he’d always loved your hips, but his eyes and hands started to rest on them more often, and soon your belly became his favorite place to plant soft kisses, and his fingers started to favor the dip in your waist and the smoothness of your hips.

In the evenings when you washed up for the night, his eyes seemed to hone in on your facial features more than usual, and while he stood beside you at the bathroom sink to get ready of his own accord as you brushed your teeth and swiped toner on your face and neck, you could see him perform a sort of math in his head, adding and subtracting from the elements that comprised the two of you. 

You took note of all these behaviors, but you declined to pick his brain because your Toshi was always direct, and you knew that if he was quiet now, it was only because he was still coming up with the proper words to express what he was feeling.

But he let you know all right, in the middle of a crowded department store in the heart of Warsaw that looked like it had been ransacked by Cupid’s battalion many times over.

“Is Poland just really into Valentines’ Day or is it this store?” You joked, as you followed your husband leisurely pushing a shopping cart you’d overloaded with essentially useless trinkets and decorative items. You’d moved into your new home just a couple of weeks ago, and still were engrossed with the task of filling the empty spaces between comfy furniture and elegant fixtures. 

You were now trekking through the realm of cribs and diapers and couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at the frankly quite excessive marketing. Red and pink hearts were everywhere, as were flowers, huge balloons, chubby angels and red crossbows, you name it.

“Oh my God, even the baby section is Valentine’s Day themed??? No wonder everyone I know is born in November!”

You were busy laughing at your own joke, but instead, he looked at you with the slightest bit of caution in his hazel eyes, leaning over the cart as it rolled to a stop and gripping the handles carefully.

“Let’s have a November baby, too,” he said, abruptly enough to stun you for a split second.

Your eyes grew slightly wide, your face growing hot at his clear and concise statement, and you quickly looked around to see if anyone else had picked up his distinct baritone. You knew in your heart of hearts he was completely serious, and flustered, you bumped him slightly on the hip.

“Why would you say it right now?” You hissed.

“Does it matter where I say it?” He asked, with a slight raise of his eyebrows. You pouted, fingers tightening on the handles of the shopping cart as well. His eyes were still on you, again, gauging your reaction, worried if he was too forward and if he had somehow made you upset with his suggestion.

“Only if you want to of course, my love,” he reassured again, his hand now covering yours. His smile was understanding, even if there was a hint of lingering hope.

The warmth was fading from your face, your heartbeat that had sped up due to embarrassment now settling with the stroke of his thumb over the back of your hand.

It didn’t take you long to think because the thought had already crossed your mind. Being heavy with his child, then eventually coming to this very store with a small little one that looked like the two of you…

It was a delightful thought, actually.

“Wine and dine me first,” you teased, kissing him quickly on the nose, “and then we can consider having a Valentine’s Day baby.”

He grinned, the slightest bit of mischief in his glance.

“I’ll have you pregnant by the end of the night.”

---

Dumping your pill pack into the trash was a surprisingly simple ordeal and you were very thankful it was mainly used for birth control over anything else. But out of an abundance of caution, you’d decided to shoot a message to your primary care doctor earlier that morning anyway and gotten the green light to start immediately, which was reassuring if not embarrassing. While you knew she didn’t take it this way, part of you felt like you’d essentially disrupted her life to say by the way, my husband’s gonna fuck me into oblivion until i pee positive on a stick, any objections?

Ushijima seemed to be taking this ordeal very seriously as he was prone to do, his diet even more regimented than usual despite being off-season and adding an extra ten minutes to his morning jog, a protein-heavy green smoothie in hand. While that was cute, what wasn’t cute was the fact that he hadn’t touched you in the past week.

When you rolled over to him in the middle of the night, slipping your hand down his boxers to try to get him to give you what he wanted, he responded with a kiss on the lips before gently removing your hand off of him and intertwining his fingers with that hand instead. 

“If I’m going to breed you, it’s gonna be special,” he murmured almost directly into your ear, a tinge of slumber in his voice making his voice even more seductive.

Breed? The thought itself had your heart racing but not as much when he added,

“I’m saving up to fill you with the biggest load possible, sweetheart.” 

With that, he patted you on the head before whispering for you to go to sleep and anchoring an arm around your midsection to snuggle with you, but the thought of what he would do to you had you wide, wide awake.

---

The fact that you were so focused on the main event made it easier for Ushijima to surprise you with the rest of the activities he had planned for Valentine’s Day.

It wasn’t the first since you’d been married, but he’d absolutely put even greater efforts into this one, starting with waking you up (after letting you sleep almost into noon) to an oversized box of chocolates and bouquet of roses and a handmade card with a haiku written in his neat script. If that weren’t enough, he’d brought you brunch to enjoy together, cozied up in bed, and topped off morning kisses with the revelation of a tennis bracelet to go with your engagement ring.

“Toshi, it’s perfect…,” you all but blubbered out, ready to burst into tears. He treated you so well.

“Not as perfect as you,” he said with a smile, welcoming you to bury yourself in his chest.

Dinner warranted more of an effort from you, and so you dressed up in your finest attire for the upscale restaurant, armed with the complete awareness that your husband planned to rip every inch of fabric off of you tonight. It didn’t help that while your meal was pleasant, you could see Ushijima grow impatient with time, adjusting and readjusting the sleeves of his blazer as night approached.

When you finally returned to the front door of your home, you were stuffed but not to bursting, and that very little bit of space left in your belly seemed to fill with new butterflies, especially with Ushijima’s hand resting at the small of your back as he opened the door. 

Why were you so nervous? You’d had sex before, many times over, but something about today felt… different? Maybe it was the looming idea of purpose, and Ushijima knew purpose very well. 

When the door clicked shut, he wasn’t on you immediately as you expected, but he was still ready, as were you. He leaned down to plant yet another kiss on your lips that seemed to whisk the nervousness away - again he was your Toshi, and you were his, and you were going to create life.

“Baby?” He asked, tentatively. 

“Baby,” you agreed, wrapping your arms around his neck to start another kiss anew. He carried you effortlessly, keeping his lips pressed to yours as he pulled off your high heels and tossed them haphazardly, leading you back into the bedroom where a smattering of rose petals along the shag carpet and in the center of the bed greeted you, along with a lightly diffused essential oil blend with heavy notes of ylang-ylang and cedarwood.

Laying you carefully on your back, his eyes shifted from soft to focused, practically to match the level of intensity you saw when he was on the court, and your pulse started to pick up again. While he didn’t exactly tear the clothes off of you as you had anticipated, your dress was pulled over your body quite hastily to reveal all of you. Inches of skin to mark, a beautiful body to fill. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured again, leaning into your neck for soft bites and kisses. He was still mostly fully clothed, and you could feel his swollen length press against your pubis, thick and heavy.

He let out a sigh, and climbed off the bed to undress.

“Don’t move,” he ordered as he pulled off tie, shirt, pants, in that order, and you couldn’t tell if you were more distracted by the sculpted muscles of his shoulders, arms, chest and abs, flexing and relaxing with every minute movement or the swell of his fat cock at attention, anxious to bury itself inside you. 

You gulped. You knew this was a ridiculous thought, but for a moment, you wondered if it was somehow bigger today?

Before you even realized what you were saying, you were already pleading, “Toshi… please be gentle…”

Ushijima smirked at your wide-eyed look, then shifted back to taking in your splayed out body with his eyes, as though mapping out his strategy while he idly fisted his length.

“Of course, love. I would never dream of hurting the mother of my kids.” 

Yet, he was absolutely going to have his way with you.

It didn’t take him long to make a decision on how to attack, anyway, because he quickly resumed position hovering over you, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of anticipating, open lips, slightly knit eyebrows over a curious gaze. His lower half pressed against you closely enough that again, you could feel the entirety of his warm, girthy length pressing against the bottom of your quickly wetting cunt to your abdomen.

The sheer span of his cock reminded you that he was basically designed to do this.

The fact that he started moving first, rubbing his length across your belly as if trying out the course before he dove in also reminded you how much your body craved him always. 

His fingers entered you hastily, and he reveled in the way your cunt already made the lewdest of noises, soft audible squishes with every pump of his fingers as he prepped you.

“So eager… so sloppy, waiting to receive all of my cum, aren’t you?” He teased, withdrawing his fingers to show you some of your slick. “You’re receptive,” he added, pulling his two fingers apart to show you the stringiness of your arousal. 

“I-I want this too, you know,” your face growing hot from the tease, hotter still when he sucked your wetness right off his fingers.

“What do you want?” He said, raising an eyebrow, still moving painfully slowly on top of you, but angling his body so that he was just running the entire base of his cock against your wet slit, killing you with every second he wasn’t immediately filling you up.

“Your babies, Toshi...”

That made him smile, and you earned the slight entry of his cockhead into you, forcing a slight moan out of your throat. The stretch was intense, as always, but the fact that he slowed had you squirming for more, as fast as possible. 

“T-Toshi… please, more,” you moaned as you raised your legs to slide down further on his cock, and he held them, pressing both firmly along his side.

“How much cum can you take in this little body of yours?” he asked, pressing right at your umbilicus with one hand, as he pushed in a mere additional inch.

You let out something between a moan and a scream from the overwhelming sensation of being stretched with so many inches to spare.

“Just fill me!!! Please, just put everything inside me,” you whined. 

“As you wish, darling.”

His arms hoisted your legs above his shoulders and he did you the service of thrusting all remaining inches inside you, forcing tears from your eyes from the too full sensation, kissing your ankles beside his head as he gave you time to breathe and adjust. Once you’d settled from the sound of your whimpers slowing, he reached for the headboard behind you before he started his onslaught.

Thrust after thrust after savage thrust, you could hear his groans deepen as he plowed the grounds for his seed, his hands tightening firmly against the wood of your headboard as it creaked for mercy. 

He felt so good, so perfect, so fitting, stretching you out like this to make room for his kin. 

Your fingers etched desire into his back, as you choked up a demand for more sensation, more him, more closeness..

“More, daddy!”

“Daddy is quite correct,” he mused, his hands moving from the headboard to quiet instead the jostle of your breasts, palming them gently. 

They were so pretty to him, he couldn’t wait to see them swell. 

He leaned down again to swallow your moans in a kiss, then opted to flip you above him instead, before he continued to snap his hips, bouncing you into the air.

“T-Toshi, you’re ah- too fast!” You shrieked, barely able to stand upright, the ride too rocky and intense for you. Palming his abdomen to walk your way up despite your movement, he brought you back down flush against his chest again, holding you tightly. 

“Let me do the work,” he whispered, kissing you, making your head swim to distract from the fact that he really was rearranging your guts. “I’ll do at least this much, since you’ll be carrying our child.”

And to that promise, you came almost instantly, an impulse of shock traveling from your slippery cunt up that you could almost feel in the tips of your fingers that made your body clench, your toes curl and the sound that came out of your throat less dainty and more primal, coming from so far deep inside you, even you were afraid.

As if on cue, his fingers dug into the flesh of your waist, holding you steady as he pounded into you even further, faster, pushing past fluttering walls and soundless cries coming from your lips, until he finally came with a shudder, spurting thick, hot gobs of liquid that you could feel hitting your cervix.

And it kept coming; he held you tighter, so desperately you thought you might break under his touch, burying his face in your chest - you could feel yourself still clenching around him, so greedy, trying to milk him for even more than the generous amount he was giving you.

It would be a miracle if you weren’t pregnant.

When it finally stopped, he left an arm around your back pressing you close to him, letting out a soft, pleased sigh with lowered eyelids. You stayed against him for longer, cockwarming him, your hands languidly coming to rest on both sides of his face.

Your darling Wakatoshi…

He stayed hard inside you, slowly giving you just one more stroke to atone for the small amount of semen that was already threatening to leak out around him, then laid you on your back.

“You’re doing so well already…” he encouraged, scooping up drops of him spilling out of you. “Keep it all in,” he said breathily, a warm palm pressing on your opening. 

“I will, baby,” you nodded, and he gave you another peck on the lips, then moved to one of your mounds to take a pert nipple in his mouth and suck softly. 

His hand lingered on your hot cunt, warm and dripping; he instead focused on stimulating your nipples with the other hand and his lips, forcing another orgasm out of you with time and dedication.

He’d obviously read somewhere orgasms themselves made pregnancy more likely. Always so thorough.

“You... f-feel so good,” you mewled, your back arching with pleasure as he used a thumb to stimulate your clit gently as he kept his semen inside you. 

He smiled, stroking his already re-hardening cock in his hand, preparing for the next round. 

“Anything for my Valentine.” 

With that was implied, the love of his life, and the mother of his kids.

[todoscript]

lilies & lilacs pt. i

SUMMARY: A dilemma with his grand charity gala brings Todoroki Shouto, CEO of Todoroki Enterprises, at your humble flower shop’s doorstep.

pairing: ceo!todoroki shouto x florist!reader

genre: eventual smut. fluff. slow burn. no quirks au.

word count: 5.6k+

warnings: none in this part, but expect sexual content in the future.

author’s note: this has been rotting in my wips for a couple of months now, but i finally decided to post it with the decision of progressing the story into parts. thank you to the lovely rosie aka @shoutogepi for initially betareading this and keeping the hype up for the fic in our chats together (love you <333)! feedback is welcomed and before you ask, im opening a taglist for the next 2 parts so just ask if you wish to be included

lilies & lilacs is copyright 2020 todoscript, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else.

The uneasy padding of her boss’ dress shoes across the floor of his office made the secretary restless. She knew the bad news she delivered would cause some displeasure to stir within him, but never would she expect his tough bearings to falter, his troubles conveyed in hasty steps and frayed skin skewing those handsome features.

During the past two years she’s worked for him, she always thought his expression was nearly unreadable. When it came to his high position, her boss was forward and direct at conducting business—calm, stoic, and a perfect representation of efficiency and strong work ethic in his field. So while she witnessed the man’s uncharacteristic distress before her eyes, she wasn’t sure how this could end well for her.

Sweat began beading her forehead at the tension creeping between each tap of his feet against the hardwood below, coming to an unnerving halt behind his desk. When her eyes found his, all she could gather in those gray and turquoise clouds was annoyance toward their current predicament.

“What do you mean we don’t have a florist booked yet?” he repeated the dilemma she relayed to him merely moments ago. Hearing the agitation in his voice caused a nervous gulp to drop in her throat. She clutched her clipboard firmly in her arms to keep herself anchored in the wake of her boss’ growing frustration. However, she was still unsure how to continue as the words remained sealed in her mouth.

“Well?” Noticing his secretary’s lack of response, he pushed forward, hands leaning against the edge of his mahogany desk. The woman urged herself to endure the obstacles by first breathing through her nose before swallowing the lump in her throat, responding quickly.

“Um, Mr. Todoroki, sir, it seems all the florists on our list have all been booked for other events for the rest of the month,” she said, but mentally scolded herself when she heard herself sputter in such an unprofessional manner. Despite that, she prayed the explanation was enough to sate even a fraction of her boss’ inner turmoil.

Shouto approached her answer with silence before that foreseeable sigh left his lips, spilling with exasperation. He turned, his back facing the secretary, gaze lined to the windows gracing him with sunlight behind his desk. Stuck in contemplation, he pinched the bridge of his nose, mouth pursed in a firm line.

Where am I going to find a florist in time for this damn charity gala? He internally griped, closing his eyes as if that would help him uncover the solution to this untimely mess.

His esteemed company, Todoroki Enterprises, had arranged a plan to hold a widely anticipated charity gala by the end of this month. The event was conducted to raise funds for all manners of different charities that would vary in the level of grandeur on display. And given that the organizing for the event would be under his very name, Shouto had the critical responsibility of ensuring nothing but peak quality to those that would attend.

His staff had long procured the venue and were managing the layout of the gala. They sought out some suitable entertainment, booked catering, and scheduled for the charity auctions and raffles to take place throughout the night. What was still needed were the decorations, and right now that was where they hit their deadend with no florist currently reserved.

And here’s the real kicker: the gala was two weeks away.

Two. Weeks.

How he allowed for such errors to occur was beyond him at this point. All that really mattered was that he found a way to correct those mistakes and fast.

As much as Shouto figured he could skip past the flowers and substitute them with some other kind of flashy decorations, he already had a clear idea of how he wanted the gala to look. The floral arrangements would compliment the theme of the event exceedingly well. Turning back on the plan would be an insult to everyone’s prepared attire for the evening, with the dress code already sent out to all the distinguished guests invited to this grandiose ball. No doubt in his mind, he needed that florist, and needed them stat.

Sure on his resolution, he finally shifted to face his secretary. The anxious expression plastered on her face greeted him, and at that, Shouto bit his lip. His guilt surfaced for allowing his emotions to affect his workspace. He knew better than to take out his frivolous thoughts on his staff, who very well had no control over the situation. So he eased the atmosphere, attempting to lift the tension surrounding his office in the dreary gray of his temper.

“Nishiyama, I’m sorry for my behavior just now,” he apologized. The secretary, in turn, was taken aback, eyes widened. Her anxiety slowly whittled away as she scampered to return his kind gesture.

“Oh no, sir, it’s fine! I’m sure you were just feeling stressed hearing the news. I surely would be if I were in your shoes.”

“No, it’s not. I was acting childish despite how much you and everyone have done so far for the event,” Shouto said, “I should be thankful for your time, considering you also have a family to take care of at home.”

While the woman stared at him, abashed by his sincerity, Shouto swiveled his chair around to take a seat. A much-needed seat to be entirely honest. His secretary was not kidding about how the bad news seemed to harrow some stress in his body. But, being accustomed to having this weight pushed on his shoulders from the very moment he was announced the head of the company many years ago, he more than anticipated the stress to come with the job.

Shouto spared his secretary one last glance before his eyes darted down between the important papers sprawled on his desk. “If that’s all the news we needed to address today then you’re dismissed, Nishiyama. Carry on with the rest of the organizing as planned,” he ordered. Nishiyama lowered her clipboard to her hip.

“R-Right. Thank you, sir.” She parted his presence with a curt bow. Shouto picked up on her heels clicking toward his office door until they suddenly stopped altogether, looking back at the man midway. “What about the florist, sir?” she asked, concerned at the unresolved predicament lingering in the air. Her question wasn’t met with an immediate reply, but Shouto eventually gave her an answer he deemed adequate of a response. His words were coated with as much reassurance as he could muster in this situation.

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it myself.”

.

.

The task was easier said than done.

Usually, when it came to booking a florist for special occasions like this, you’d want to contact them months ahead of the scheduled date to ensure maximum efficiency and work out any problems that should arise. But there were only two weeks left until the awaited charity gala.

Shouto was certainly pushing his luck at this point and to a dangerous degree. If he didn’t find someone to arrange the flowers for the ball soon, the venue might be absent of all life and mood, essentially flopping from missing such a key element. Shouto could not allow for that to happen.

Given his word, he took it in his hands to rectify this mistake. For the entirety of the day, he sifted through the aforementioned list of florists his secretary had provided him—extended thanks to his team’s desperate search for more options.

All he had to do was narrow down the lineup. Unfortunately, those efforts may as well have been all for naught.

“Hello, is this Himawari’s Garden? I’d like to speak with the head florist there about arranging the flowers for a gala my company has been planning—”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but we’re currently busy preparing for a big wedding coming up next week. If you’d like, I can try and book our services for you toward the next month or so when we’ll be available?”

Shouto’s brows tightened during the exchange—a gesture he’d been repeating as of late while he dwindled the line of florists. If he kept it up, those wrinkles might be embedded into his skin permanently. He was at least grateful he managed to thwart the heavy breath of air that threatened to leave his lips and reveal his frustration to the woman on the phone.

“No, that’s fine. Thank you for your time.” With that, he hung up.

Shouto leaned back in his seat in exasperation, his weight pressed into the cushions as his eyes situated themselves toward the ceiling. The consistent taps of his fingers on his mahogany desk were all he heard amidst his deep contemplation. His eyes lidded shut in an attempt to seek a moment of refuge from the stress, but his conscience began eating at him.

Of course, what was he thinking? The beginnings of spring to late autumns were the mark of wedding season—the time where florists and other businesses specializing in decorative arrangements thrived and busied themselves with eager clients. Not only that, but it was also the month of June. The sixth month of the year was undoubtedly the most popular month among couples to hold their weddings, and he had witnessed this fact firsthand through his myriad of fruitless phone calls.

Shouto had thoroughly wrung through his rope and teetered on the edge of complete defeat. He sealed down his most recent loss at the hand of another busy floral business by striking a line across Himawari’s Garden on his list. At that, the total tallied to thirty whole flower shops. Thirty unsuccessful attempts.

That sigh he contained during the phone call found its way out of his throat in dramatic waves of displeasure

“You alright, sir?”

His administrative assistant, Midoriya Izuku, heard his huffs when he entered the threshold of Shouto’s office. He noted his boss’ hunched posture and the rare crease crinkled between his nose bridge, pressed against his hands that were clenched together above his desk.

“I’m guessing the new list of florists was also a no-go?”

Shouto didn’t offer any words, instead sliding said list—now fully crossed out—toward his assistant as his reply. Craning his head for a better look, Midoriya feigned a smile, not wanting to let the man’s defeat consume the mood entirely.

“Well... I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised… Wedding season is upon us after all.”

Oh yes, Midoriya. Shouto knew that very well. So much so that he sunk further into his desk at the reminder, head practically drooped with a gloomy rain cloud hovering atop him. The green-haired assistant fervently shook his head back-and-forth upon realizing his remark had thrown salt into his wound. “Oh, I-I mean... Don’t worry, sir! I’m sure we’ll still be able to sort out this problem in time before the gala!” he sputtered to help alleviate the despair that crept in, but it came to no avail according to his boss’ silent sulky demeanor. That was when Midoriya remembered the two cups of hot coffee held in each of his hands.

“Ah, right, I made you some coffee! I figured you could use one considering you’ve been cooped up in your office all day.” Setting one in front of him, Shouto perked up at the nutty aroma that slowly slipped into his senses. He eyed the fresh cup of coffee tentatively, the steam flitting above it in wisps.

Lifting the cup, the rich smell wafted further into his nostrils, imbuing him with that familiar peace he usually reveled in. On any ordinary day, he’d be accompanied by his classic roasted blend perched on his desk, with no problems threatening to disturb his peaceful routine. Not anything like today. Not anything like this dilemma of a desperate time crunch for a florist.

Perhaps that was what he needed. A filter of caffeine to wash away the ordeal like it was a bad morning plaguing him with baggy under-eyes and fatigue from a previous day of hard work. Though he’s sure not even caffeine could erase the headaches he developed throughout his day so far. If anything, indulgence would just make those headaches worse.

Nonetheless, he welcomed the smooth blend of flavors that ebbed down his throat through modest sips, rejuvenation quickly oozing in his veins. Headaches or not, the stimulation from the caffeine was essential if he wanted to combat the rest of the day with some drive.

“Thanks, Midoriya. I needed that,” Shouto acknowledged. He nodded at his assistant, who rubbed the back of his head modestly, saying how it was no problem at all, but the way his boss suddenly got up from his seat interrupted his words.

Shouto already felt the strong coffee going to work as his steps picked up in long strides around his desk that had the assistant’s brows knitting together, confused. “Where are you going, sir?” Midoriya asked, his voice sounding more distant to Shouto, who continued his way past him and toward the door.

“A quick drive,” was the blatant answer he gave. He downed the last of the cup before tossing it in the trash bin near the exit of his office. “Something to clear my head a bit. I’ll be back soon, but until then, keep reaching out to any businesses that could potentially be available to help us.”

“Yes, of course, sir! You can count on me!” Midoriya was prompt in replying. As expected, being Shouto’s right-hand man at the company.

With that, Shouto took to the parking lot below his building, twirling his keys over his index finger before hopping into his Mercedes and driving off.

The withering sunlight cast its glare over his car during his ride through the city. By now, the skies splayed vibrant red as the sun gandered above the horizon. He drove down the narrow and busy streets that kept the place bustling at these hours. It was likely the time when people finished up their workday and were eager to arrive home for much-needed rest.

During a particularly long wait at a red traffic light, he pondered over his predicament again. His thumb rapped against the steering wheel while he bit his bottom lip, that ugly feeling of regret seeping into his thoughts.

Maybe he placed too much faith in these flowers after all. Sure, he mentioned the vital role they played in aligning with the theme and complimenting the guests’ attires. But was it worth all the trouble he put his team through, searching through a throng of businesses already busy with their own events to organize? In a way, this could’ve been sorted out had he recognized the current times and planned accordingly to avoid the mess. But now they were trapped in this bind, crunching for anyone that could help them within only fourteen short days.

Just as he weighed the idea of calling Midoriya over the bluetooth in his car to drop the floral arrangements altogether, something caught his eye at the last second.

Shouto peered through his window, squinting at the corner, where he spotted a cart of flowers in front of a shop of some sort. His grip tightened around the leather of his steering wheel as he leaned in for a better look. Some kind of spark in him roused his anticipation the more he shifted forward in his seat, like the hope that was slowly fading inside was igniting once again.

Another inch further and he attained a better look of the shop. Its sign came into view just below the small boundary of his window—letters brushed in calligraphy on a long board of canvas with lilies painted on the edges that seamed together into a bouquet.

N… Neigh… Neighborhood Lily.

He deciphered the words, but didn’t give them much thought. All that enveloped his mind afterward was the fact the name wasn’t any of the list of thirty shops he phoned today. So the very moment the light overhead flickered to green, Shouto’s hold on the wheel tightened. His foot gradually stepped on the pedal with much more purpose.

He decided to take a brief detour from this casual little drive of his.

.

.

It was about six o’clock when you waved off your latest customer, who was leaving the shop with a basket of vibrant tulips swinging on their arm. The smile on their face was an adamant indication they were more than happy with their time here, something you always delighted in, being very passionate about your job as a florist.

“Thank you, and please come again!” The bell overhead gave a gracious chime at the customer’s departure.

With them gone, you drew your attention back to the flowers laid out on the small wooden table in the corner of the shop. Before the customer came in, you were at work arranging and crafting the blossoms you purchased from the flower market that morning into bouquets.

You’d be closing in about an hour and thirty minutes or so, but for now, you basked in the silence and the calming aroma of the flowers that surrounded you while you continued your work. A modest hum naturally sang past your lips and soothed its way into the shop that was devoid of all souls except yourself.

“Hm, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” You made some small talk with the rose in your hand. It was a habit of yours to spill a few words out within your own little world, imagining the flowers were keeping you company whenever you were alone.

“And there, now you all look even prettier.” An adoring smile embellished your lips as you finished off another bouquet by tying it with a silk ribbon. Looking over the bundle one more time, you thoroughly admired the shades of pinks and reds that complimented each other in the ensemble.

Then two more bouquets down, and you already made a good amount of progress. You figured that if you kept up the pace, you’d likely finish the rest of the batch and have them ready for display tomorrow. But just as you clasped three more flowers in your hand, the bell atop the door chimed, alerting you to a new patron.

You nicked off a thorn from one of the stems before turning around and giving your attention to the visitor. When your eyes found their way to the shop’s entrance, you were surprised to meet a man of slicked white and red hair. The few strands that found their way out of the gel must have been tussled from a long day of work considering the fatigue plain on his handsome face.

Despite the few wrinkles here and there, his attire was still surprisingly pristine. He wore a simple yet compelling suit, the fit seeming tailored to the contours of his body that rendered you a tad speechless at how good he looked just standing there. The sight almost made you feel underdressed.

You hadn’t realized you were staring for longer than you deemed appropriate. You couldn’t help it, being that the stranger was a stark contrast to the regular customers you were used to. The fanciest you’ve encountered since you opened your shop were the young boys that rushed in with nicely fitted tops and jeans, frantically inquiring about what kinds of flowers were right to give to a girl for a date they had later that day. Not anything like attractive businessmen in immaculate suits and shining silver wristwatches that surely cost more than all the flowers you tended here.

Noticing you were gawking, you blinked thrice to knock yourself out of your trance and properly greet the man.

“H-Hello, welcome to Neighborhood Lily,” you said, mustering the politest tone you could give to make up for the awkward moment of wordless eye contact. You must have kept your eyes on him for what felt like a good five minutes at least. The man, in turn, acknowledged you with a small grin, much to your relief.

“How may I help you this evening?”

“I’m…” he hesitated, seeming wary of how he wanted to go about his next choice of words, “just looking for now,” he decided.

Not paying much mind to his hesitation, you nodded. “Oh, well, if you have any questions or need any help on anything, please let me know. I’ll just be around the corner!”

Allowing him to go about his business, you returned to your table of flowers and oversaw the blossoms again. However, it was difficult for you to busy yourself with the task at hand. The mere thought of the other presence in the shop was enough to hammer you out of your concentration.

He was already a compelling figure on his own, what with his good-looks accompanied by his classy ensemble that felt more than out of place here. But what you were especially curious about was what business he had at a humble flower shop like yours during this hour.

That curiosity led your eyes straying to the side, where you peeped the man walking through the small aisle of flowers. He examined the bouquets and vases on display, even showing interest in the more decorative pieces hung in pots from the ceiling.

You tried to determine what his motives were. He was showing some considerable intrigue at your arrangements, though perhaps it was pure admiration for your work, and you were letting your self-consciousness get to you.

Well, spying would just get you nowhere, you thought. One way or another, he’d answer your curiosity by either coming to you directly or leave the shop altogether. You had to admit you hoped more for the former.

Until then, you tore your gaze away and resumed gathering flowers in your hands. You assessed their compatibility with one another while you fiddled around with their placement in the bouquet. The white lilies and the blue lilacs went very well, along with another set of light violet lilacs you couldn’t help but string into the bundle. As a result, the beautiful balance of cool tones made for an exceptional well-made bouquet. You finished the piece with a matching white satin ribbon and then let the arranged flowers thrive inside a glass vase.

“Those are very pretty.”

Startled at the voice, you whipped your head around, hands braced behind you against the edge of the wooden table. Your untimely lack of words were a result from realizing the owner of the voice was closer than you anticipated.

The businessman went from lingering around the aisle of flowers in the middle of the shop, to appearing in your proximity.

“E-Excuse me?” you asked, wondering if you heard correctly to which he pointed at the bouquets laid finished on the table. “In fact, all the flowers here are exceptionally beautiful.” He gestured to the entirety of the shop. His eyes quickly roamed across all the decorative flourishes before they came back to you.

“You do excellent work here in your shop.”

Words coming from a man like him made you bashful. You subconsciously played with the hem of your apron, eyes drifting to anywhere but his face at the compliment. However, the sliver of heat fluttering to your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh, um, thank you. It’s nothing really, I’ve been arranging flowers for quite some time while at the last floristry I worked for so I have a fair amount of experience.”

After another second of fiddling with the fabric, your hands ended up falling to your sides. You sauntered toward one of the flower vases that were already set on display, dawdling around the conversation. His eyes followed you, watching you nurture the blossoms. “I opened this flower shop of mine just recently actually. Been getting a decent amount of business here and there, but I’m just glad that the people who’ve visited so far like my work,” you told him, twirling a strand of your hair. The pads of your other hand brushed against the soft, abundant petals of a yellow chrysanthemum.

The man observed your actions, analyzing your face. He distinguished the devotion hidden in your eyes as you looked upon the flower with a luster. Despite your humble character, it was more than clear to him you were very passionate about what you did, relishing in the ambiance and admiring the modest appearance of this little shop of yours, covered in the wonderful aroma of flowers.

You didn’t detect that deep breath of air he earnestly drew in as he stepped closer. So close that his proximity broke your stupor to meet his rigid expression.

“How would you feel about an… opportunity to let more of your work be known?”

“An opportunity?” you echoed. “Wait… do you maybe have a wed—”

“No,” he interjected, so abruptly that you couldn’t help but quirk a brow. Catching himself, he took a moment to clear his throat, mindful of his behavior. “I mean, it’s not a wedding. Rather, a charity gala that my company has been planning for some time.”

“A gala?” Your mouth worked faster than your mind, accidentally blurting out your thoughts. The astonishment was evident in your tone; it made the man question your reaction by leaning in.

“Yes, a gala,” he said again like you didn’t just hear his words from a foot away, without even realizing the lengths behind his baffling offer. “Is there something wrong about that?”

“N-No. It just wasn’t the kind of opportunity I expected it to be is all… A gala…” Your voice hushed around the utter of “gala”.

What the man presented so blatantly was unexpected to your ears. Galas meant a pompous party full of people decked in lavish attires, drinking quality champagne from tulip glasses. Sizing up the man again, you could only imagine this gala would only include the most important and wealthiest people in attendance.

You had to ask something, “Um, about this gala... How many people will be there?”

“Maybe about... five hundred or so? I’ll have to check in with my assistant to confirm the full count again.” He shrugged nonchalantly and yet on your end, hearing the number almost reduced your head to a dizzy mess.

Five hundred guests? It was a number you couldn’t fathom. You hadn’t even been booked for an occasion as ordinary as a baby shower, but this man wanted you to arrange flowers for his big charity gala?

As oddly enticing of a job it was to you, there had to be anyone else more experienced and capable for this.

“Sir, I’m not su—”

“The pay, of course, will be more than generous, and I’ll even provide you funding for any necessary materials for this project,” he chimed in before you could voice your protest. It was then that you began to distinguish something laced in his voice and exhibited on his face.

Desperation.

This man seemed desperate for some reason.

“May I ask when the event will take place?” Your arms crossed against your chest. A gulp formed in his throat at the question, unsure if he wanted to unveil the news or risk scaring you off. Either way, if you were working for him, you’d learn eventually. A sigh came out.

“Two weeks,” he answered.

Oh yeah, that explained it. It also answered any questions you had over the tension rigid in his shoulders. At this point, you were bound to join him in his stress because, goddamn, organizing a whole assembly of flowers for a grand ball within fourteen days? The idea was beyond daunting.

While you reflected on the intimidating pieces of information, he was gauging your reaction. Would you say yes? No? Laugh at the idea that he thought he could find a florist to work for him at such late notice? There were a slew of uncertainties twisting in his head—an act unbecoming of him, but you were his last hope. Whatever you responded with next would either be the nail in his coffin or the wings that made him soar.

You would be treading on uncharted waters at a chance like this, having never sailed anywhere beyond your little island of floristry where people came and went with your humble little arrangements. But you also thought of this as a daring opportunity to find new land. See what the world had in store for you outside of selling the general bouquets and vases you had on display. Plus, when would a chance like this ever come up again?

Though it meant encountering difficulties along the way, taking on such a big challenge right off the bat, you figured you’d be able to keep your boat afloat. You were also sure the journey toward bigger regions would be worth the struggle in the end.

“So do you have your answer?” he pressed forward when your silence became unbearable to his nerves. He thanked the fact that his voice managed to sound steady enough not to give himself away. Your arms remained crossed in front of you, your hand coming beneath your chin the only sign that you were taking his offer to heart. It kept the flickering flames of hope blazing inside him.

“I just want to ask you something,” you replied. He nodded, allowing you to continue.

“I know you’re under pressure with this gala coming up in only two weeks,” you began. Your arms unraveled, and your fingers ran to your apron again. You formed the next bit of words with uncertainty, “but are you sure I’m the right person for this job? I mean, I don’t have much to offer you in terms of skill other than what I have here.” You nudged at the range of your shop, plain as can be though with a generous amount of flourishes on display. Yet nothing you thought special enough to be graced by him and his grand proposal that evening.

“I just don’t want you to regret your decision.”

There was a pause of silence after that. The man seemed to give your words some thought—a quick reflection on the situation. You couldn’t decipher much in his face, but you happened to take some time to admire how pretty his eyes were. The individual blue and gray shades were mesmerizing to you, resembling glaciers glittering beneath the moon high in the north. Another detail you jotted in his long list of attractive features. Before you could marvel at them any further, he whisked your thoughts back to earth with his response.

“It’s true that I’m coming to you because I’m in need,” he admitted, hands slowly closing into fists like he was reluctant to confess this, “but from what I can see, I genuinely think you’re more than capable for this job. So yes, I’m very sure I won’t regret this decision.”

It was clear to you that he was sure on his stance. But to reinforce his statement, he bent his head low into a bow, weight added to his next words.

“Please be the florist for our gala.”

The gesture briefly overwhelmed you, not something you were expecting, but you managed to acknowledge it by returning the bow.

“I’ll be in your care then.”

With all things said, you were soon tidying up the exchange and trading business cards. Yours was a standard card with your number, name, and business attached with a picture of a lily printed across the paper. His, a premium slip of stainless steel engraved with his information and then some, the fancy card reflecting off the lights hanging from the ceiling. You read the name etched in ebony black over the gray material.

Todoroki Shouto — CEO

“You’ll likely receive a call from either one of my assistants or me within the next day or so about when to meet up to plan for the arrangements.” Shouto’s voice brought your head up from the card, where you watched him glide toward the door.

“R-Right, I’ll leave my cell on,” you stuttered. The fact that this whole exchange had just transpired was still kicking in for you.

Shouto nodded, extending a wave out that you mirrored while he opened the door to the shop, the bell chiming above him.

“I’ll see you then.”

After that, the resonating tinkles of the bell were the last you heard.

You stared at the entrance aimlessly, mouth gradually gaping open at the mere prospect that you were really about to arrange your flowers for a grand charity gala in two weeks!

A mixture of elation and jitters erupted in your body all at once, uncontained as you whipped your head around and strode across your shop in giddy steps. Your eyes lit up at the steel card gripped between your fingers, clenched so tightly like you were worried the card would turn to dust when you woke up from this dream. But at the wide smile that bloomed on your lips, you knew that this was reality. This man, Todoroki Shouto, was giving you the opportunity to have your true potential shown at this big gala.

Meanwhile, on his way back to his Mercedes, Shouto was clicking open his phone. The screen beamed at him in the low light of the evening turning to night while he punched a number from his contacts list. It took only the cusp of the second ring for the person on the other line to pick up his call.

“Midoriya, call off the search,” Shouto commanded into his phone. He rested his back on the door of his car, leaning against it with his phone still attached to his ear. His gaze found its way back to the flower shop he had just departed, eyeing the light emitting from the windows to the sign hanging above them. Grinning, he took in the sight of the flowers dancing in the wind around the shop’s vicinity before finding your silhouette standing in the benevolent light inside.

“We have our florist.”

[b-else-writes]

the tiger shark and the sun

New chapter posted for my Star Wars/Avatar the Last Airbender-RebelCaptain fusion AU! Feat: prison break hijinks, unlikely team-ups, and Jyn and Han trying not to kill each other. And a bonus Enfys chapter!

Read on AO3 | read from start

Pairings: Jyn/Cassian, minor Han/Leia and Baze/Chirrut, random minor background pairings

Rating: T

Summary: Star Wars/Avatar the Last Airbender fusion AU. The Fire Nation, under  Fire Lord Palpatine and Lord Vader, has been at War with the world for  the last twenty years. When Jyn Erso lands on his doorstep the day  Cassian, last southern waterbender, is assigned to protect the Avatar,  she seems just another obstacle in ending the War. An obstacle he would  willingly remove. For exiled firebender Jyn, the Avatar is her last way  home - and to her hostaged father, never mind her own conscience. But as  their paths keep crossing, and the Avatar needs all help in saving the  world, Jyn and Cassian find they are more alike than they ever thought  possible.

Snippet under the cut!

Han was listening with half an ear as Erso poured out tea. It was a quiet night at the Western Air City. Both Luke and Leia looked sweaty from another day of Erso yelling at them to punch harder and produce more fire, worse than his old sergeant as a cadet. After that, Chirrut had put them through the paces of more earthbending training. Han absently moved a strand of hair stuck to Leia’s sweaty neck. She grunted in response and continued to lie on her stomach, face on Artoo’s belly. Han grinned to himself. He would admit he loved watching her when she was bending four elements like some kind of wrathful Spirit, but grouchy Leia was funny to bother.

“It’s nothing on Bodhi’s tea,” Erso was saying, smiling – wonders would never cease! – “But I tried my best. He also had a really bad tea joke.”

“Let’s hear it,” Chirrut, Baze, and Luke said at the same, then laughed. Han rolled his eyes behind his cup. It was some kind of black tea boiled in water and milk. Not bad. Nothing on Bodhi’s though. Han sighed to himself, hoping their resident soft-hearted anxious wreck was alright. The only people less inoffensively adorable than Bodhi Rook are probably babies. Erso refused to speak on the subject.

“*Well… I can’t remember the start,” Erso continued to her audience, “But the punchline was ‘leaf me alone, I’m bushed.’*”

“I don’t think that’d be funny even with the punchline,” Han said, as the three stooges cackled to themselves. Enfys looked up from the dusty papers she was reading, documents she’d rescued from Hynestia’s ruins, to roll her eyes at him. Pleasant enough – for a traitor. Erso’s face fell as she saw Cassian was distracted by maps and papers in front of him. Taking pity, Han spoke up, “Whatcha got there, Cassian?”

“A lot,” he said absently.

“Do tell me more,” Han said. When Cassian didn’t respond, Han reached over and poured the tea onto Cassian’s lap. Cassian nearly yelped. Kay leant over, trying to lick it. Cursing, Cassian waterbent the tea off and flung it at Han’s face, who ducked it with grace. Well, graceful for him.

“Remind me again why we’re friends,” Cassian muttered.

“I’ve got charm,” Han shrugged. Chewie snickered to himself behind him.

Feigning deafness, Cassian turned to the group. “Bunch of things. There are other battles going on and we’re trying to pull troops for the battle directly against Palpatine. Plenty of people didn’t come for the Day of Black Sun. For them -”

“The most important battles are for their homes,” Enfys finished. Cassian nodded, pointing towards marked out locations across the Earth Kingdom.

"Sullust, Troithe, Mindor, Naboo, Cato Nemoidia - there's guerilla warfare going on over the Earth Kingdom. It’s good for us in some ways. Once the Fire Lord falls, those who don’t surrender to Mon Mothma are going to dig in and become warlords if we don’t get rid of them first.”

“Joy,” Baze said under his breath. Cassian continued, “Then we’re decoding breakdowns on the Death Star from Jyn’s scroll. And we’ve started ascertaining who survived the Invasion. And if those missing were imprisoned instead of dead.”

“Anyone we know?”

Cassian’s face grew haggard, exposing the premature wrinkles. He looked less like the technically decorated war hero after the Siege of the North, and more mortal. “The death toll is…not good. But we have confirmation Lando was imprisoned.”

“No!” Luke and Leia cried, at the same time Han said, “Lando…Lando made it out?”

Suddenly Erso’s tea tasted of bile. Han set the cup down shakily. His sword lay in his lap. Its presence felt foolish. Who was he trying to kid, playing General? Lando had done most of the leading. Lando had stayed behind and paid the price for having real responsibilities. Had risked his neck to save him from Jabba. Lando and him went way back – there was a corner of the Falcon he still couldn’t quite look at after some activities back during the coaxium heist when Enfys was twelve – and now.

Leia squeezed his hand, kissing him gently. “We’ll get him out, Han,” she said fiercely. Han kissed her back, drinking in her big bright eyes, wishing he had all the power in the world like she did, and he could bust Lando straight out –

 Now, hang on a second there.

Chewie gave a nervous warble at his expression. Han told him shut up, I always have great ideas.

“Hey, Erso,” he said, as the morose group finished dinner and began to head off to bed, “Can I talk to you?”

She frowned at him suspiciously. Han raised his hands, walking off towards the edge of the atrium. She and Chewie followed after. Han stopped near the edge, staring down at the thick layer of clouds. He envied Enfys, being able to fly. Erso folded her arms expectantly. “Where would they have been imprisoned?”

“It’s better that you don’t know,” Erso said, “Knowing will make it worse.”

She turned to go. Han scowled. “Listen, Erso. He’s my friend. I owe my life to him.”

“It’s not good, Solo.”

Gritting his teeth, “Please.”

Erso paused. Her shoulders tightened. Then, “If I tell you, you’d better not do anything stupid.”

“Me? Stupid?” Erso turned and glared at him. Sobering, Han nodded, the lie easy. Erso studied him, glancing over at Chewie, who only growled.

Edging away, she continued, “There’s a story. I’ve only heard rumours. It’s called Fortress Inquisitorius. Highest security prison in the Fire Nation. They say it’s a tower in a boiling lake, on the volcano of Nur. Its run by elite benders, the Inquisitors, and Imperial Intelligence.”

“Volcano of Nur?”

“Volcano coming out of the sea. It’s only stories. People taken by the Inquisitors don’t come back. But that’s my guess for a high-level war prisoner.”

Han nodded. Erso gave him another sharp look before stalking away. “You are so paranoid!” Han called after her. She made a rude hand gesture.

Sneaking out was easier said than done. He, Luke, and Cassian all shared a large room, with Chewie sleeping on the floor. Luke had passed out immediately, but Cassian, stupid magic waterbender, had stayed up reading his papers and writing messages past midnight. Once he was certain Cassian was asleep, Han packed lightly. His sword, some picks, a dagger, food, and his personal map. He tiptoed past Cassian’s mattress. He’d explained to Chewie that there was no way he could smuggle a bear along. The bear had been instructed to warn the group if Han didn’t return in five days. Chewie had given him a big hug before that.

Han regretted leaving him behind already. Being on his own was weird. Carefully, carefully…

“Going somewhere?”

Erso dropped out of the shadows of the atrium. There was no point pretending. “It’s none of your business, Erso. I have to make this right,” Han snapped. What would Erso understand –

Okay, stupid. Erso probably understood perfectly. But this was Lando. Erso had never met him in her life. She wouldn’t get the history. Han didn’t particularly want to hurt her, but he rested his hand on his sword-hilt. She raised her hands, pausing.

He started towards the war balloon. Erso followed. “What are you doing?”

She raised a challenging brow. “I’m going with you.”

“I have to -”

“Die alone?” Erso’s eyes were hard. Was Erso, his former friend, worried about him? Han swallowed uncomfortably. “You’re going to a prison of elite benders. What exactly is your plan? Wave your sword around like a big boy?”

“Erso,” Han said warningly. She gripped the war balloon’s basket.

“Keep at this and I’ll scream my fucking head off and wake everyone up.”

Han swore. “Fine. Get in the damn balloon.”

Erso leapt fluidly over the side, landing in a crouch. With a few quick punches of her odd, rainbow flame, the balloon rose. Soon, they had left Hynestia far behind.

Han had a bad feeling about this.

keep reading

[jaxsteamblog]

Matchmaker Iroh

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

Suki and Sokka wouldn’t allow her to call the beach trip a bust, but it was definitely not as relaxing for Katara as she had hoped. Zuko was called away every night to eat dinner with his sister at the royal family’s beach house.  Katara, having not talked to Zuko about what she had overheard, was anxious about it every time.

It didn’t help that he didn’t seem to have much to say each time he returned.

On their last night in the beach house, Zuko ignored Azula’s summons and stayed with them. Suki found a closet where a bunch of old board games were stashed and they gerryrigged a system to make a drinking game out of Capitalism!

In the morning, as Katara cured everyone’s hangover before rushing to clean everything up, they realized that may have been a bad idea.

Going through the airport was easier this time since they were leaving the country, and Katara relaxed. She was able to enjoy first class, burying herself under everyone’s blankets and wearing the facemask that came in a sealed cellophane bag. Zuko got them champagne again and Katara heard the sound of the instant camera before a wave of laughter.

Smiling, Katara ignored them and attempted to move her arms over the bulk of four blankets to drink from her glass.

Customs in the Earth Kingdom gave her anxiety, but that was normal for any time she crossed a border. Still, they passed quickly and they moved together out of the airport.

“Did we want to get dinner?” Katara asked.

“No offense Katara, but I would like to spend some alone time with my bride-to-be.” Sokka said, putting his arm around Suki’s shoulder.

Katara rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine.”

“Want to go to the Jasmine Dragon with me?” Zuko asked. Feeling small, and unable to really say no without making it awkward, Katara nodded.

“Sure.” She said.

The taxis pulled up and Sokka and Suki waved as they grabbed one. Another followed and Zuko held the door open for Katara. Despite sending so much time with him, and sitting next to him during the flight, Katara felt cramped when Zuko slid in beside her and shut the car door.

His presence was much like his clothing, larger than she assumed and far too comfortable. He seemed relaxed and Katara put her elbow on the armrest inside the car door. Propping up her chin, the highway traffic passed over her eyes as she thought.

But to be fair, she wasn’t really thinking about anything. It was as if a neuron in her brain would suddenly go “Zuko!” and the others would nod sagely, as if coming to agreement over the concept of him as a being. Other thoughts like “I should see a therapist.” or “Spirits, what does being Queen even mean?” were met with similar chemical murmurings.

Zuko just sat next to her like one of those salt rock lamps. He felt calming, but his actual calming properties were yet to be determined.

When they got to the teahouse, Zuko pulled out their luggage and Katara started to fidget. Zuko, as he typically did, always looked casually formal. His jeans alone cost more than her whole outfit and his shirt came from a store Katara had never heard of. He would be fine strolling into the teahouse regardless of his standing as a prince.

Katara on the other hand was wearing hand cut jean shorts, a tank top that she picked up at a music festival, and tattered sandals.

Iroh’s comment about her youth clothing her in something enviable was falling flat at the moment.

“Ready?” Zuko asked, rolling her suitcase to her.

“Sure.” She replied, grabbing the handle.

They walked in together and Zuko smiled at the hostess before immediately diverting to the right. Walking past the main tea room, Katara realized there was a hall that fed to multiple rooms, even turning a corner.

“What’s in there?” Katara asked.

“Let me show you.” Zuko said and stopped at a door, opening it gently.

“Oh.” Katara peered in, looking at the neat little space.

“They’re for private events. There’s some temporary walls to open them up in a bunch of different configurations.” Zuko explained.

“How come I didn’t notice them at the party?”

“A lot of them were open, and they don’t actually fill the length of the main building. A lot of the nobility actually had their tables in here.”

“There was nobility?” Katara asked, half-laughing with shock.

“I’m telling you, there’s almost no difference between rich people and nobility except that rich people can make a vague claim to having an actual job.” Zuko replied and smiled.

“So where are we going?” Katara asked.

“To the last one.” Zuko said, shutting the door and continuing on. When they got to the last one, Katara could smell the cooking meat before Zuko even turned the handle.

Katara smiled as she saw Iroh, dressed in a kimono, crouched next to a grill with his sleeves tied back.

“Welcome back. You are just in time.” Iroh said, glancing up at them briefly before flipping over cuts of meat with his chopsticks. Katara and Zuko rolled their suitcases to stand next to the wall before kneeling at the table.

“Thank you for doing this Uncle.” Zuko said, picking up his own chopsticks and flipping over meat.

“After you had such a stressful time, I was glad to offer some respite.” Iroh replied.

“Stressful? Suki and Sokka got engaged.” Katara remarked.

“Yes, I heard! That is very exciting news.” Iroh said and sat back. As Zuko took over the cooking, Iroh freed the sleeves of his kimono while looking over at Katara and smiling.

“Do you suppose he will supply his own flowers?” Iroh asked her and Katara snorted.

“Are you kidding? Sokka is a meticulous planner, he wouldn’t let anyone else near it.” She replied.

“When do you think they’ll have the ceremony?”

“I’m not certain. It was a surprise to find out they wanted to get married.”

“Seriously?” Zuko interjected as he added vegetables to the grill. “Sokka has a domestic streak a mile wide.”

“Yeah but neither of them seemed the type for the frill.” Katara replied. Zuko shrugged and focused on his basting.

“Not every wedding needs frills.” Iroh added and Katara sighed.

“And not everyone gets the wedding they want.” She said, leaning against the table and resting her cheek on her fist.

“Are you engaged, Katara?” Iroh asked. Katara raised an eyebrow but shook her head, awkwardly as she didn’t move it from its stand.

“No, just prophesizing.” She said idly.

“Which we already established you are bad at.” Zuko stated and Katara rolled her head back to glare at him.

“Well, I will go and get the tea. Maybe it can help part the veils of the future for you.” Iroh said and huffed as he pushed himself up.

Katara smiled and blinked leisurely, looking around the room. It was nicely decorated but reminded her of a hotel room. It lacked personality.

“Are you doing okay?” Zuko asked.

Katara leaned back and flopped onto the table, watching him remove the food from the grill. He delicately laid everything out on plates and started to stir little dishes of sauce.

“When did you learn how to cook?” She asked instead of answering.

“Like I said, I lived with my uncle for a good number of years. Some of that time we were marching with his army down the western coast of the Earth Kingdom.” Zuko said. “Some nights if I wanted to eat, I had to make it myself.”

“You don’t sound like either nobility or rich people.” Katara said.

“And look at you, your royal highness, slouching all over the table.” He quipped.

Frowning, Katara sat up and took up her chopsticks, tapping them on the tabletop.

“Zuko there’s something I wanted to ask you.” She started.

Zuko looked at her, sliding over a plate.

“What’s up?” He asked.

“Did you ever-” Katara jumped as the door opened and Iroh returned with a tea tray. Setting it down, she helped him unload it as Zuko slid over his own plate.

“Tell me Katara, did you get to enjoy Ember Island? I know it is one of Zuko’s favorite places.” Iroh said.

“Is it?” Katara asked slyly, casting her gaze back to Zuko.

“We used to take family trips there when I was a kid.” He said and shrugged one shoulder up, picking at his food with his chopsticks.

“His mother had a fondness for the local theatre troupe there as well.” Iroh paused to chuckle. “They were awful.”

“It’s a shame we didn’t get to take in a show.” Katara said and picked up a grilled green onion.

“I had wanted to.” Zuko said with a sigh.

“Did they not have a show?” Iroh asked.

“They did. They’re doing a run of ‘Tales of the Avatar,’ but Azula kept calling me up for dinner.” Zuko said.

“Did you get everything sorted?” Iroh asked.

Katara narrowed her eyes as she looked between the two men.

“Solved enough. I’ll have to wait and see.” Zuko answered.

“What-” Katara began but stopped as Iroh picked up the teapot.

“My goodness, I haven’t even poured the tea. Here, Katara, let me have your cup.” He said.

The tea was good, a tangy sort of sour that went oddly well with the grilled meat. They talked and Iroh told stories of Zuko as a child. There was an incident with a turtle crab that, from Zuko’s face, didn’t seem like an accurate retelling.

To make him feel better, Katara related how, when she was first learning to control her bending, she had soaked Sokka while out fishing. And that for a long time, she would often have to change her direction so that her water went where she wanted it.

It was then that the conversation turned to bending in general, and the benefits of using other elemental styles. Katara agreed that it might work in principle but that the elements were too different to see any real use out of the other styles.

“Zuko, show her the Wyvern form.” Iroh said and gestured with his chopsticks. Zuko smiled and put his hands down on the table as he stood.

“Here.” Zuko said, holding out his hand. “It’ll look familiar.”

Katara felt her face warm as she looked at his hand but placed hers on his palm. His hand was warm and dry.

Helping her up, Zuko got into his stance and Katara tried to mirror it. Firebenders were light on their feet and displaced their weight differently, so it was an awkward placement. Zuko chuckled and walked to her, gently moving her feet by pushing on them with his. Then he held her waist as he angled her hips. Then he pushed out her arms, patting them when they were in place.

“Okay, so the movement is just based on circles.” Zuko said as he took his stance again. “Just follow me.”

She watched his movements, trailing her arms like a weird after image. When she fumbled, he stopped and approached her again.

“Here. It’s like your water whip.” He said and took her hands. Pulling them through some motions, Katara did recognize the feeling. But the water whip needed a deeper stance since she would have to pull the water around her. This form worked because the Firebender could produce their own flame.

“It’s not useful. It wouldn’t be able to hold much water.” Katara said, stepping quickly away from Zuko.

“But it could hold a nice array of ice shards.” He replied and sat back down at the table. Katara blushed and returned to her seat, taking up her teacup and drinking.

“Are you enjoying the tea, Katara?” Iroh inquired.

“Yes. But it’s,” Katara looked down into her cup, tilting it. “Different.”

“It’s sakura tea. The cherry blossoms are pickled.” He said.

“Uncle!” Zuko sputtered and Katara looked at him.

“I’ll go and get some more.” Iroh said, smiling in a grandfatherly way.

Zuko sighed and rubbed his face.

“What’s sakura tea?” Katara asked as Iroh rose and picked up the tray. He chuckled as she shuffled to the door.

“It’s served at weddings. It’s a lovers’ tea.” Zuko answered.

Katara spun around to see the door shut.

“He does know you have a girlfriend, right?” She asked.

“I don’t actually.” Zuko said and Katara turned back to him. “Not anymore.”

“What?”

“Mai and I broke up. It wasn’t going to work out the way we had thought it would.”

“Oh?” Katara asked, her voice shaky and lilting upwards to make it a question.

“She showed me that I deserved better than just living a repeat of my parents’ marriage.” Zuko shook his head and reclined on his cushion. “When I get married, I want it to be for love.”

“Right. The future.” Katara said. She frowned and nodded. “That makes sense.”

“It’s what we’ve got to deal with right? As royals?” Zuko said and Katara groaned.

“Don’t remind me.” She muttered.

“Hey, I’ve got your back. Anytime you want to talk about statecraft, you can give me a call.” Zuko said.

“Statecraft?”

“Sure. But we’re friends, you could ask me anything.” Zuko said and Katara blinked. “Except for anything about school.”

“School?”

“Summer’s almost over, Katara.”

“Right.” Katara said flatly. It was like her lungs couldn’t take in enough air.

“Did you need help moving?” Zuko asked.

Katara looked at him, feeling like her body was moving slower than the rest of time.

“Uh, no. Sokka and I usually make a day of it.” She answered. Zuko nodded and picked up his teacup to examine the contents.

“Well you’ll have to let me know if there’s a goodbye party.” He said.

“Yeah.” Katara drifted but caught herself and shook her head. “Yeah, no, of course.”

What just happened?

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

[punches-and-cream-puffs]

.: Layers - Teagan :.

Layer One: The Outside

Name:  Teagan Rhuadain

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Style/Color: A blonde bob that always has some sort of braiding in it, and is slowly growing out.

Height: 5′2″

Clothing Style: Her favorite outfit combo is a mini-dress and boots, or shoes with stockings to cover her legs. She likes cuter outfits, but values her range of motion in case of any unexpected fights.

Best Physical Feature: Her Smile!

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Your Fears: "After...after losing so many I called friends, both to my own hands and the hands of others, I’m afraid to lose them now that keeping them is an option. I’m afraid of losing this new life I’ve found, of having the freedom of thought and choice ripped from me again. I...I’m afraid of disappointing those around me...and I’m afraid I’ll always be behind them. That I’ll never catch up, you know?”

Your Guilty Pleasure: “I worry that I enjoy fighting too much, especially if there’s a crowd. I just enjoy the thrill of the fight, the blood pumping in my ear, the cheers from the stands... I enjoy the theatrics of it, and the familiar praise. I know I really shouldn’t, given my past, but... it’s familiar. It’s comforting. And it’s what I excel at.”

Your Biggest Pet Peeve: “When people talk down to me. Or when they treat me like I’m stupid, or a child... or when they have the gall to say it to my face. I’m not stupid. I know there’s a lot I don’t know, but I’m trying, and it’s frustrating to be written off.”

Your Ambition for the Future: “I...admit I don’t really have any yet. I mean, I know I want to be there, and I want to be happy, and for my friends to be happy, but... Thinking of the future was never something I really did before. I think I’d like to help people, if I’m able. Make them smile, you know?”

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

Your First Thoughts Waking Up: “Well, I usually do a quick check to see which of my critters are on my bed, and then they get scritches while I wake up a bit more and go over my plans for the day with myself.”

What You Think About the Most: “How wondrous the world is... there’s so much beauty out here, you know. So many colors, so much vibrance, so much life. There’s water that falls from the sky and rivers and seas, there’s flowers and trees and vines, and people! There are so many people to meet, to befriend... I’m lucky to be here, and grateful I get to see and experience this all.”

What You Think About Before Bed: “After I make sure Nugget and Nibbles are snuggled down and comfy, I usually go over all the good things that happened today, and whatever new things I’ve learned that day. Sometimes I try to guess what I might learn the next day while I try to come up with plans... I usually fall asleep during that though.”

You Think Your Best Quality Is: “I know people value me for my fighting or my cooking, but I think my best quality is...well, I don’t know how to word it, but I’d like to think I’m good at making friend. Is that a quality? I’m not sure, but it’s what I’m proud of. And my fighting, of course.”

LAYER FOUR: WHATS BETTER?

Single or Group Dates: “Well, who only eats one date...wait, oh. Ah... I’ve never been on one. Group dates sound like they’d be really good to help combat nervousness... I’m probably not the best one to ask about this.”

To be Loved or Respected: “I personally am happy with being loved...but...Respect is nice. It makes things...better? I don’t know how to word it...Love is nice, but it’s like a cream puff without the puff. Respect is the pastry shell that holds it together. I think, anyways....”

Beauty or Brains: "...I don’t really think either matter in the long run. I mean, I appreciate when people are pretty, and admire when they’re smart, but a good heart is what really matters. You could be gorgeous and a genius, but if you’re a bad person none of that matters.”

Dogs or Cats: “Can I pick both? It feels mean to pick one or the other when both of them are lovely and adorable. I mean, look at Nugget! And look at my sister’s kitten Mhachi! And look at Nibbles, the cutest little diremite- Who’s a good boy? You are!”

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie:  “It seems like too much effort. Telling the truth is a lot easier...I have tried to hide things I’m embarrassed about, though. Or hide things that could get someone in trouble, or worse.”

Believe in Yourself: "When it comes to fighting, of course! When if comes to baking, yeah! I mean, they aren’t perfect looking, but the food tastes good and that’s what counts. But... I know I’m lacking in a lot of fields, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make them up. Not sure if I’ll ever be enough to help my friends, you know?”

Believe in Love:  “Of course! I’ve seen my friends, and I’m so happy for them! They’re so lucky to have that kind of unconditional love and support.”

Want Someone: “I try not to. I try my best not to. I’m not- Nevermind. I’d rather not talk about this one, you know? Let’s just be happy for those that find their people, yeah?”

LAYER SIX: EVER?

Been on Stage: “Does the arena count? Because if so, yes! Both in my old life and my new one!”

Done Drugs:  "I don’t think so, but there was that tea that made the water far, far too colorful... I’m not a fan of that feeling myself.”

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: “...Not exactly. I was more trained into it... but I think I’ve done a good job of discovering myself since!”

Favorite Color: “I love all of them, but I love blues. They remind me of the sky, and the sea! I also really like yellow; it feels really warm and welcoming!”

Favorite Animal: “Please don’t make me choose...they’re all special little critters. I love encountering new ones!”

Favorite Food: “Still cream puffs! I recently was gifted a cake decorating set, so I’ve been trying to put smiles and animal faces on them.”

Favorite Game: “I’m not familar with a lot of games, but I enjoyed that chess game Lyrin’a introduced me to. It was a good way to pass the night, and left a lot of room open for conversation!”

Day Your Next Birthday Will Be: “I don’t know; I don’t think I have a namesday, so I’ve never celebrated. But I make cake and cream puffs for my sister’s, though!”

How Old Will You Be: "I think I’m twenty....twenty one? Maybe twenty two... that wasn’t really important back home.”

Age You Lost Your Virginity: “I....haven’t?”

Does Age Matter: “...Depends on what we’re talking about. Like if we’re talking about respect, everyone deserves it. Young, old, elderly or child. Age doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t determine your personhood. You have to treat people like people, you know?”

LAYER SEVEN: IN A BOY OR GIRL

Best Personality: “If I had to choose, I’d have to say someone caring. Someone who builds up those around them, who has a natural warmth...and someone patient.”

Best Eye Color: “Aren’t they all pretty? I mean, have you seen how blue eyes glitter? Grey ones shimmer? The sparkle of green, the hidden gold you discover when the sun hits brown eyes... how could anyone say one eye color is better than the other?”

Best Hair Color: “...Does that really matter?”

Best thing to do with a Partner: “I’d say spar, but I enjoy sparring with friends too. But... it’s different when you’re facing someone who knows your moves as well as you do, and vice versa. It becomes almost a dance of sorts... outside of that, I’ve read some comic books about romance stuff. And I’ve seen some of it first hand...I think the best thing would be doing the cuddling thing by a window when it’s raining, maybe with a blanket to make it really cozy. But I’ve never really been able to do cuddling, so I’m just speculating. But it sounds really nice.”

LAYER Eight: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: “everyone.”

I feel: “three steps behind, but I’m sprinting after.”

I hide: “my insecurities as best as I can.”

I miss: “having a place where I was in my element.”

I wish: “I could ensure that everything would be okay.”

Tagged by: @hiraethwyl​

Tagging: @awatercat​ @maskedmagicat​ @herocatte​ @anyone who wants to steal this!

[lilith-lovett]

Found Families - Home is Where the Hart is - Chapter Nineteen

New Chapter. Thank you for your support xx

Masterlist

Summary: Party preparations go underway and Logan begins to ask the question. ‘Do I really belong here?’

Word Count: 7320

Warnings: Past child abuse, food mention (literally half of this chapter is just me talking about food), anxiety, self-deprecation, implied depression, injury mention, past physical abuse, past psychological abuse, implied nightmares, implied panic attack, disordered eating (if there is anything I have missed please let me know).

The following days were devoted almost entirely to Roman’s birthday preparations. From the presents Logan and Virgil had chosen arriving, which they hid in Virgil’s wardrobe. To Patton spending almost the entire of the day, whilst Roman and Virgil were attending school, preparing all of the food necessary for Roman’s birthday party; miniature cupcakes, a selection of fruits and vegetables, prepared sandwiches with a variety of fillings each suited to the preferences of each child and what Patton believed to be the most important element…the birthday cake.

Logan struggled to comprehend the purpose of a specific birthday cake, decorated in candles - which also seemed to be a fire hazard - but Patton informed him of its significance, especially within the Hart household. Patton would make a special personalised birthday cake for each of his family members on their birthday and this time was no different so whilst Patton prepared the ingredients and baked the cake, Logan read to him the recipe. A red velvet cake as it was Roman’s favourite flavour. The found the recipe much easier to decipher now he was wearing his new glasses but had to keep Declan occupied and out of the kitchen to prevent him from disturbing the process and potentially injuring himself. Baking appeared to be a relatively simple science, with clear instructions to follow and specific apparatus to ensure the correct measurements in order to produce the desired flavour profiles, but given his limited experience with baking he chose to instead defer to Patton’s expertise and read to him the recipe to avoid any potential mistakes. However, keeping Declan engaged in anything for longer than a few moments was proving to be incredibly difficult. The toddler had an extremely limited attention span and it was consistently being drawn to Patton’s actions in the kitchen, presumably also due to the heavenly smell now being emitted from the oven where the cake was currently baking.

“Oh, Dee-Dee, how about you help me decorate the cupcakes?” Patton said lifting Declan from the floor, balancing the toddler on his hip as he brought him over to the dining room table where several piping bags of different coloured frosting where laid out, among various other edible decorations. “Do you want to decorate a couple too Logan?”.

“Okay,” Logan responded taking a seat at the dining room table, studying each of the individual decorations and vibrant colours of the icing - presumably created by the addition of various food colourings - considering potential combinations of colours and flavours that Roman would enjoy.  

“Alright kiddo, go for it,” Patton said also taking a seat, balancing Declan on his lap so he could properly reach the table. “Now Dee-Dee, what colour do you want to make your cupcake?”.

“Lellow!” Declan exclaimed bouncing in Patton’s laps, slapping his mitten-cladded hands onto the table’s surface as Patton chuckled.

“That’s a great choice, Dee,” Patton responded picking up the piping bag containing the brightly coloured frosting, allowing Declan to squeeze it haphazardly onto the chocolate cake base, much of it splattering onto the table.

Logan looked to his own collection of undecorated miniature cakes, a selection of both chocolate and vanilla flavours. Initially, he thought of Roman - as it was for his birthday celebration - he decided on a vanilla base and the vivid crimson red frosting as from the vast amount of red he wore and decorated his room with, Logan made an educated guess that it was a colour he enjoyed. Logan found that controlling a piping bag was far more difficult than he expected, Patton had made it look simple, yet his first attempt was a sloppy mess. However, the more he practised and studied Patton’s technique the better his piping became and once he perfected the icing he ventured onto the decoration. Patton had provided a range of smaller confectionery to act as embellishments atop the cupcakes and Logan decided to continue with the ‘ornate’ motif for his cupcake - inspired by Roman - choosing a handful of multi-coloured circular candies and arranged them delicately atop the frosting, in addition to a strawberry slice acting as the centre piece. For Virgil’s specific cupcake, he selected a plain chocolate cake base and settled for the lilac coloured frosting as it was the closest in appearance to Virgil’s favourite shade of purple, evident from the frequent presence of it in his room and in his hoodie which he wore seemingly at all times. Logan’s spiral patterned piping work had significantly improved from his initial first attempt of ‘Roman themed’ cupcakes. The decorations he used were miniature pieces of different flavours of chocolate and topped with a single chocolate orange slice. He continued the process with Declan’s, using the limited amount of yellow coloured frosting remaining, topped with a significant quantity of multicoloured sprinkles, reminiscent of Declan’s own cupcakes he had decorated with Patton. Oh Patton. Logan had almost forget to make a cupcake for Patton. He considered his options very carefully. He desperately wanted Patton to like it. He chose a vanilla base and the lightest of the shades of blue frosting Patton had prepared, a pleasing sky blue. The piping work on the ‘Patton inspired’ cupcakes turned out the best in comparison to the rest of them, perhaps it was because of the particular care he put into making them perfect, as Patton was an avid baker he would surely notice any substandard work. Once the piping had been perfected, Logan selected simple tiny white chocolate stars as a decoration. As a finishing touch, he arranged each of the designs into their specific colour category, he had decorated three of each variety, giving him twelve cupcakes in total.  

“Wow, kiddo, those look amazing!” Patton exclaimed in the process of decorating his own batch of cupcakes. Logan’s face flushed at the compliment 

“Thank you, I took inspiration from Roman, Virgil, Declan…and you Patton, using your preferred colours and flavours in attempt to cater them to your specific tastes,” Logan explained his cheeks still coloured red from the praise.

“Aw Logan, that is precious. I’m sure everyone will love them,” Patton responded a blindingly bright smile stretched across his face. “How about you do one for yourself?”. He set the final chocolate cupcake down in front of Logan.

“That is unnecessary,” Logan stated quickly, this was an event for Roman and his family, he should be respectful and stay separate from the celebrations as much as possible. After all he didn’t wish to spoil Roman’s enjoyment. Logan got up and prepared to make his way over to the sink, where a pile of dirty dishes were building up.

“Why’s that?” Patton questioned and Logan found he didn’t have an answer. If he told Patton what he truly thought, he would immediately counter it, assuring him of his place within the family dynamic despite his short time spent with them. As that was the type of the person Patton was but Logan struggled to comprehend why so instead he chose to return to his seat. Perhaps one cupcake would be acceptable? And if it made Patton happy, he would do it.  

Logan’s design was the most simple out of the lot. The same chocolate cake base as Virgil and Declan’s, atop of which was a simple, neat frosting swirl, in the darkest shade of blue icing Patton had prepared as it was the most akin to his favourite colour. He added no additional decorations as he did not wish to waste any of what Patton had prepared on himself so decided the plain design was satisfactory. Next, the cupcakes were placed into containers and properly stored in the refrigerator along with the rest of the food, to protect them from the early Summer heat and the two cake layers had just come out of the oven. A marvellous smell was emitted as the oven doors opened, faints notes of chocolate and a pleasant sweetness reached his nostrils. After allowing the cake tiers to cool enough where the frosting and decorations wouldn’t melt from the heat. Logan again attempted to entertain Declan with a child-friendly book whilst Patton iced and decorated Roman’s cake.    

Preparations continued that night. Once Roman and Virgil had returned from school, they had all eaten dinner, ticked another Disney film off the list and Declan had gone to sleep, it was approaching nine in the evening. Roman had left for his room and just as Logan was planning to do do the same. Patton stopped him.

“Hey, Logan, I was wondering if you could distract Roman for a little while?” Patton asked in a hushed tone.

“Why is that necessary?” Logan questioned.

“Me and Virgil are going to decorate the living room and the kitchen for tomorrow and I want it to be a surprise for Roman,” Patton explained, that was when Logan noticed the container of brightly coloured streamers and a various other items, presumably for the purpose of decorating. He failed to comprehend why it was compulsory to embellish your surroundings dependant on the occasion, Maggie used to decorate her office for holidays such as Christmas or Halloween but birthdays were not considered to be national celebrations yet the same conditions seemed to apply.

“Alright, though how do you wish me to…distract him?” Logan inquired as far as he was aware he and Roman had very little in common, shared very few interests and had significantly conflicting personalities. How was he expected to entertain Roman for any length of time? Logan had rarely encountered Roman alone, unlike his several conversations with Virgil and Roman’s feelings towards Logan and his arrival remained undetermined.

“Get him to talk about himself, he loves that,” Virgil stated as he began to unpack his own box of decorations. Logan considered the suggestion, he would have to think of particular questions to pose but perhaps this task could be an opportunity to gain Roman’s favour and acquire more informations in regards to his specific likes and dislikes so too strengthen their bond.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Logan declared determined to assist in Patton and Virgil’s scheme wherever possible.

Logan found himself waiting outside Roman’s bedroom door. An all white door, embellished with a variety of brightly coloured stickers, depicting and referencing scenes and individuals he did not recognise, he noticed Virgil and Declan’s bedroom door contained similar appearing stickers which comparatively made his door appear far less interesting. He raised a fist to knock, questions prepared in his mind but the door burst open before he could, causing him to flinch back in surprise.

“Oh hey, specs,” Roman exclaimed as he opened the door, dressed rather strangely in what appeared to be a costume of sorts with a red sash draped across his chest. Perhaps this is what Virgil was referring to when he mentioned Roman liked to believe or pretend he was a prince? Logan noted the nickname Roman used, which appeared to be a common occurrence for both Roman and Virgil. He recognised the word used. ‘Specs’. It was an abbreviation of the word spectacles. So it may have been a reference to the fact he wore glasses. “Come in, welcome to mi habitación. That is Spanish for my room,”.

“You know Spanish?” Logan asked his surprise present in his tone as he entered.

“Yup, I want to become fluent,” Roman stated with a proud smirk. Foreign languages was a subject which has always interested Logan but due to the lack of resources available to him at the Orphanage, he never had the opportunity to learn, though he was surprised to discover Roman had a passion for the subject. “Now, I know you are here to distract me,”.

“Wh…I…I,” Logan stammered. Had he really been so obvious? Would Patton be disappointed? Was he so uninteresting that Roman couldn’t bare to be in his presence?

“I bet they are decorating for my birthday right now,” Roman stated collapsing onto his bed, laying on his back, glancing up towards the red fabric which hung over the dark wood bed frame as he spoke.

“How did you figure it out?” Logan questioned unsure of what else to say as he stood somewhat awkwardly in the centre of Roman’s bedroom.

“Last year, this was Virgil’s job. He was already mad at me for using some of his books to hold up my easel, so he just told me. He got really stressed out after, thinking I was going to tell on him,” Roman explained wildly gesturing to the air as he told his story. Logan certainly understood why Virgil would be upset by a complete violation of his personal property but thought it better not to voice this, allowing Roman to finish his tale. “But I didn’t, besides dad likes it to be a surprise so I let him think that I don’t know what he is doing,”.

So, Roman pretended to act surprised for Patton’s benefit. It was a kind sentiment. Patton evidently enjoyed the birthday preparations, as Logan noted from this heightened mood these past few days though particularly when doing an activity associated with the event of Roman’s birthday and perhaps Roman’s awareness or involvement would remove the joy from it?

“Now, as much as I enjoy your company microsoft nerd, you may leave now. I-I mean, if you wish,” Roman said sitting up and directing yet another dramatic arm movement towards his door but Logan did not failed to note the swift retraction of his previous statement.

“May I stay? It would help with the illusion, would it not?” Logan suggested after a moment of consideration. This was an opportunity for Logan and Roman to communicate and maybe it could lead to them having a better relationship.

“An excellent idea, if you left padre would surely notice,” Roman announced leaping up from his sitting position. “Now what can we do?”.

Roman continued to pace around his untidy room, experting weaving through the piles of his belongings which littered the floor, mumbling potential ideas for activities to do to maintain their façade. Logan watched him for a moment before focusing his attention onto the walls of the room. The majority of them were plastered with artwork, photographs, posters, pamphlets and tickets, some appeared to be well-worn and much loved while others were pristine in their condition, clearly only recently obtained. Logan suspected he could learn a lot about Roman’s identity and interests through studying his surrounding yet his limited knowledge of the world of the arts prevented him from gaining much.

“Roman, might I inquire about your posters?” Logan asked gesturing to the wall behind Roman’s desk which appeared to hold the largest quantity of them.

“Of course!” Roman exclaimed bounding over to where Logan was stood and immediately delved into an in depth and detailed explanation of the history of each individual piece. “They are mostly from shows I have been in or gone to see. That is the program of the first ever performance I did with my theatre group, it was Hairspray and I, of course, played the male lead. That is the poster for Wicked, that one is Les Miserables, Rent, Annie, The Lion King. I’ve also kept all of the signed programs of all the shows I have ever been in and the tickets too. Oh, here are the ones from when me and Elliott went to see Sister Act. It was incredible,”.

Roman’s rambling continued. Logan struggled to get a word in edgewise so he remained quiet, attempting to follow Roman’s constant stream of conciousness which he was finding incredibly difficult. He would jump from subject to subject, begin one sentence, then recall sometimes else and quickly switch to explaining that instead of the previous thought but Logan persisted. One musical in particular caught his attention. It was called Hamilton and tells the epic tale of one of America’s Founding Fathers Alexander Hamilton, in an unconventional manner and style. However, he did note the historical accuracy which surprised him as he expected it to be a work of over-dramatised fiction but Roman informed him otherwise. Roman also told him it was the musical he most wanted to see - among others - but the tickets were absurdly expensive and notorious for quickly selling out so he hadn’t gotten the opportunity too. So, he instead continuously played the musicals soundtrack, having listened to it so much he knew most of the lyrics of by heart and was able to perform them to a high-standard. Roman began to play the first couple of songs from the soundtrack and explained the different stylistic choices of the lyrics and and how they related to events which would occur later in the story. Logan was pleasantly surprised by Roman’s expansive knowledge of the history and story-telling tactics of the musicals he greatly enjoyed, he had yet to witness Roman so enamoured by anything but his enthusiasm when it came to his passions was admirable. He also noticed some distinct similarities between himself and Roman, particularly in the way he obsessed over certain topics. For Logan, it was science and literature and for Roman, it seemed it was his beloved musicals. Eventually Roman seemed to either run out of information to share or run out of air - which seemed to be the case considering the impressive speed of which he was talking - as he stopped talking to take several deep breaths before collapsing into the chair which sat by his desk.

“Sorry, I can talk a lot,” Roman said sheepishly as if embarrassed by his passion-fuelled outburst.

“It is quite alright, your passion it certainly commendable,” Logan said hoping to ease Roman’s worries somewhat but he only received a confused expression in response. “I-I mean…it is good you enjoy it so much,”.

“Oh, thanks. I know stuff like dancing and singing and acting are kind of girly but I really love it,” Roman admitted glancing towards the array of posters and memories upon his wall. The statement perplexed him, as far as Logan was aware specific activities were not gendered but perhaps it was a societal normality? He could recall several insentiences during his time spent in Orphanages were he and the other boys around him were expected to play and enjoy outdoor sports but he found he had no interest in doing so and was as such labelled as abnormal. Maybe, Roman had experienced something similar in the past which led to this thought-process?

“I do not believe specific activities are related to any one gender and if you find enjoyment in such a activity you should be allowed to participate despite your gender identity,” Logan stated as Roman stared at him for a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter, so much so he nearly fell out of his chair. However, Logan could not conceive how what he had said would cause such a reaction.

“You’re such a nerd,” Roman responded after managing to compose himself, a small smile on his lips so Logan assumed the comment was not meant to be perceived as a insult and was perhaps a term of endearment? He did not know. “Dad and Virge will be done with decorating by now,”

“Yes, I should be returning to the…my own room now. Goodbye Roman,” Logan said before turning to leave but he was interrupted by Roman.

“Hey specs, thanks,” Roman said quietly, in a tone he hadn’t heard Roman use until now. Logan didn’t know exactly why Roman was thanking him, maybe for the company but he nodded nonetheless and exited, returning to his room for a much required break from the constant activities and stimulation.

Logan was exhausted but he didn’t receive any more than a minute of silence before he was disturbed once again. This time by Virgil, asking him if he wished to join himself and Patton downstairs to wrap Roman’s presents for tomorrow. Despite his desperate desire to refuse, he accepted, not wishing to appear ungrateful of their acceptance and treatment of him so far. Logan was terrified of doing anything wrong. What if he refused a request and Patton realised the mistake he made in allowing Logan into his home and family, just like the couple before him? So Logan followed Virgil downstairs, to see the living room and kitchen decorated in bright red balloons and streamers dangling from the ceiling. A large red banner decorated with small golden crowns, reading ‘Happy 13th Birthday Prince Roman’ stretched across the archway, separating the living room and kitchen and an elaborate centrepiece display on the dining room table. Patton sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room floor, surrounded by boxes, a variety of brightly coloured and patterned wrapping paper - the majority of which were in Roman’s favoured colour red, a couple pairs of scissors and cello tape. Patton face broke into a grin the moment he set his eyes on Logan.

“Hey kiddo, how was your talk with Roman?” Patton asked with a bright smile stretched across his face as Logan and Virgil also sat on the floor.

“It was very informative,” Logan responded unsure of how else to describe it while also maintaining the illusion that Roman was unaware of the work being done downstairs.

“Aw, I’m glad. Now, let’s wrap these presents!” Patton announced with a giggle.

They created efficient system, in which they each had their own job for optimum productivity. Logan, cut the paper - a shiny red one free of any patterns or designs -  as he could most accurately guess the amount of wrapping paper that would be required for each item and would produce the least amount of waste. The paper was a very satisfying texture, however, the potential danger surrounding the incredibly sharp scissors did made him feel uneasy but Patton demonstrated such a way in which the risk of Logan accidentally harming himself was greatly limited. Patton was responsible for the wrapping the presents as he was evidently superior at it compared to himself - who had never physically wrapped a present before - and Virgil - who was far to scared of possibly ruining it - Patton’s expert wrapping produced clean edges and smooth finish. Finally, Virgil added the finishing touches such as the addition of a gold ribbon securing each of the gifts and a personalised message detailing who the present was from. A short while later, they were completely finished and the pile of presents were added to the display on the table.

“All done, we are now completely ready for Roman’s birthday. Now, all that is left to do is wait,” Patton proclaimed raising his arms in a stretch. “Oh, I forgot to tell you Logan. Emile’s parents Dot and Larry are coming over for Roman’s party tomorrow. Do you think you will be okay to meet them?”.

Logan considered this for a moment. He was aware Patton had purposefully kept Roman, Virgil and Declan’s ‘grandparents’ from visiting to allow Logan time to adjust but he felt conflicted by the action. On my hand, he appreciated the act as moving into Patton’s house was an enormous change and the whole process had been extremely overwhelming so far, also he knew very little about them and as such could not speculate how they would react to him. What if they hated him? What if they wanted Patton to return him? Would he? But on the other hand, Patton had kept them from visiting their ‘grandchildren’ for Logan’s benefit and comfort. Would they resent him for that? Logan certainly wouldn’t blame them but his future in Patton’s family entirely depended on their opinion of him which depended on their first meeting tomorrow and the thought of that terrified him.              

“Yes, I-I would like to meet them,” Logan said a slight stutter to his word which if Patton noticed he did not mention it.

“Okay, I will let them know,” Patton said standing from the seated position on the floor and walking just out of ear-shot.

“You’ll get to meet Elliott tomorrow too,” Virgil stated he had moved to lean against the couch, whilst remaining sat on the floor, looking at something on his cellular device. “He’s Roman’s best friend but Roman also has a super obvious crush on him,”.

“A crush?” Logan repeated confusion present in his tone, having never have heard of the term being used in that particular context which seemed to be becoming a frequent theme when communicating with either Roman or Virgil.

“Yeah, you know, like he likes him,” Virgil said waving a hand absently for emphasis. “Like, like likes him,”.

“Oh, I think I understand,” Logan said. He didn’t. But perhaps, he could ask Patton later?

“Cool, so yeah, he keeps on denying it but I know he is lying,” Virgil said returning his attention once again to his phone. While Logan did not understand what exactly a ‘crush’ was, he knew it must trouble Roman and could perhaps be a risk to his friendship with Elliott, maybe it was for the best he didn’t press the subject to Roman himself.

Following their brief conversation Logan and Virgil fell into a comfortable silence. Logan discarded the minimal amount of scrap wrapping paper whilst Virgil put away the cello-tape and scissors in their correct location before Virgil decided to return to his room for the night. Logan was just about to do the same until Patton returned from his phone-call, sitting next to where Logan was sat on the couch.

“That is everything ready for tomorrow, Dot and Larry are so excited to finally meet you,” Patton said with a bright smile but Logan could not return it, the pit of anxiety developing in his abdomen only grew more impossible to ignore and a dangerous swirl of thoughts caused carnage within his head. He was going mess up. He was going to to ruin everything 

Why was Logan like this? Nothing was objectively wrong. Everything had been going fine but his treacherous brain immediately made him feel like he was going to die. But he couldn’t let Patton see. Tomorrow was supposed to a celebration for Roman. Logan would only ruin things with his complaints. Patton had already given him so much and he was so grateful, him acting selfishly would only lead to Patton witnessing his true self. The broken one. The unlovable one. Perhaps he could hold on a little longer? Remain quiet, avoid disturbing Patton’s family while he searched for a way to repay Patton for his kindness. And then…well he didn’t know. Logan hated not knowing.

“Hey Logan, are you alright? You look like you are million miles away,” Patton asked wearing an expression of concern across his face.

“I am quite alright, I am merely tired. I think I may retire for the night,” Logan responded hoping Patton wouldn’t press him any further.

“Okay kiddo, sleep well,” Patton said all manner of concern melting from his expression and forming into a smile.

“Goodnight,” Logan said before disappearing to his room, swiftly before all of the stress and anxiety burst out of him.

Logan, the second he entered his room, scoured his drawers for his jumper. He tore of his constrictive shirt replacing it with the soft material. He lowered himself onto the edge of his bed, digging his nails into his thighs, revelling in the pain this brought. Why? Why was Logan like this? He should be better. He should be over this. His mother and father were no longer watching over him and criticising his every move, denying him the most basic of necessities for failing to be any less than perfect. Madame Claire was no longer tormenting him mentally and physically for her own sick, twisted enjoyment. Patton had saved him from that yet the fear which gripped him was unyielding. The intrusive what ifs burrowed deep into his mind and grew like a parasite, torturing him, destroying all trust he had in those around him and even in himself. Logan was so terrified of Patton realising the colossal mistake he had made in ever choosing to approach Logan that day. He wondered where would he be now if Patton hadn’t been there? Another Orphanage likely or perhaps Madame Claire would have gotten tired of him and thrown him out on the search for being such a burden. It was moments like these where he desperately desired the sharp sting of his father knife or the dull ache of the bruises Madame Claire left behind, to drown out the racing of his mind, to remind him of his place.

Maybe he shouldn’t attend Roman’s celebration tomorrow. Logan’s absence surely wouldn’t be noted and it would probably please Roman. Why would he want a someone who was virtually a stranger to attend his personal celebration? 

Logan lay down on his side, reaching pitifully for the soft toy resting on his pillow and clutched it tight to his chest as if it could mend the hurt inside. He used its paw to wipe away the tears he had failed to hold in before slipping into a disturbed and restless slumber.  

Patton awoke bright and early. It was the day of Roman’s 13th birthday and he was determined to make it the best one yet, it was also Logan’s first official celebration with them as a family and despite it being Roman’s birthday, he wanted to make a special experience for Logan too. Emile would be arriving along with his parents Dot and Larry at around ten and then Thomas told him he would be dropping off Elliott at eleven just before the super awesome birthday lunch he had prepared, the reveal of the birthday cake and the various activities he had planned. It was also the day for Logan to meet Dot and Larry, the honorary grandparents as they dubbed themselves, Patton had wanted to allow Logan time to settle in before he was bombarded with more new faces but Logan agreed that he was finally ready to meet them and they were ecstatic. They had already heard all about Logan from their frequent phone calls and had fallen in love with him just as Patton had when he first met him. Speaking of Logan, he would surely already be awake and waiting for Patton at the breakfast table

Patton dressed quickly and made his way downstairs careful not to wake Roman, Virgil or Declan who were all still sleeping soundly. Patton journeyed downstairs but instead of Logan waiting at the dining table, book in hand, he was met with an empty kitchen. Logan didn’t appear to be up yet which took him a bit by surprise as he knew Logan adhered to a strict schedule no matter the day or occasion. Perhaps, all of the late nights had finally wore him down and he was sleeping in? Or maybe, he was waiting for Roman to awakened, Patton hadn’t told him of the scheduling for the day so he might have thought the days events wouldn’t begin until Roman awoke. They were all suitable explanations for Logan’s unusual absence, so he continued on as usual, preparing the mornings extra special breakfast specifically for Roman’s birthday. Super fluffy pancakes and every potential topping you could think of, it was Roman’s favourite food and he would always request it every birthday or special occasion. It was only a short while later when Roman, Virgil and Dee came bounding down the stairs to the heavenly smell of pancakes wafting throughout the house.

“Happy birthday, my darling prince,” Patton exclaimed wrapping Roman in the biggest and warmest dad hug he could muster, pressing kisses into his fluffy bed-head, evidently too excited for the days events ahead to do his daily hair care routine. “You are so big now, you are growing up too fast,”.

“Thank you, padre,” Roman responded allowing himself to melt into Patton’s arms, even though he was officially a teenager, dad hugs were never off limits. Roman, Virgil and Dee sat at the table, preparing to tuck into their extra special birthday breakfast but something or rather someone was missing.

“Where is Logan?” Patton asked attempting to mask the concern in his voice.

“I knocked on his door but he didn’t answer, think he might be still asleep,” Virgil answered his voice his still heavy from sleep as he yawned.

“Oh okay, well, let’s let him sleep for a little longer,” Patton said taking his own seat at the table. “I’ll wake him after breakfast,”.

The boys seemed to accept that answer as they quickly tucked into their pancake buffet. Patton selected a couple of smaller ones for Dee, allowing him complete reign of the decorations and jars of crofters jam. Usually he didn’t allow them to have this much sugar and encouraged a healthy and balanced diet but today was a special occasion so sweet treats were mandatory. Dee’s picky eating had certainly been a challenge in the beginning, as he refused nearly everything that was put in front of him but pancakes were a favourite of all of the Hart children. Virgil had gone simple with his pancake, a small drizzling of golden syrup, Patton knew he struggled to eat large quantities of food in the morning but was just happy he was eating, recalling a time when Virgil was considerably underweight and though he was still only the skinny side they had made a lot of progress. Roman’s pancake was the most elaborate; chopped strawberries, drizzled with syrup and decorated with spirals of whipped cream, while eyeing the pile of presents at the end of the table. Patton smiled at his children’s antics but couldn’t help but feel somewhat saddened by the fact that Logan was missing out but a healthy sleep schedule was more important. Once breakfast had been finished, Patton had managed to keep a few pancakes for Logan and the dishes were all cleaned and put away. Roman, Virgil and Dee had all settled on the couch to watch some cartoons while Patton went to fetch Logan.

Patton arrived at Logan’s door, a strange sense of nervousness washed over him. What if Logan wasn’t feeling well? What if Patton was pushing him too much and he recoiled into his shell again? He couldn’t hear any noise from behind the door so perhaps Logan really was still asleep and he was simply exhausted from yesterdays preparations. He knocked once and then once more. After a moment of silence, Patton tried the handle but the door was locked. Why was the door locked? When Patton had checked on Logan last night the door was unlocked, so he had to have purposefully locked it when he woke up this morning. But why would Logan do that? Unless something had happened and he was deliberately hiding.

“Logan, I know you’re awake. Can you let me in please?” Patton pleaded while debating how he could feasibly break down the door without alarming Logan, if he refused. After yet another moment of silence, Patton prepared to speak again but the locked clicked open before he could yet the door remained closed. “Oh thank god, okay kiddo, I am going to come in now,”.

Patton gingerly opened the door into the darkened room, the only light source being the desk lamp. He saw Logan sat at his desk, hunched over a stack of thick textbooks and was writing notes into one of his notebooks. Patton knew Maggie had given him a variety of textbooks to keep up with his studies while he wasn’t in school or regularly attending lessons, it was also evident that he enjoyed learning and working on new projects, Patton was happy Logan had something to do to keep himself occupied while Roman and Virgil were at school and Patton was working from home. But, he was surprised to find Logan studying this early and on Roman’s birthday, today was supposed to be a day of fun and celebration yet Logan was working. Clearly something was wrong.

“Are you alright kiddo, you weren’t at breakfast this morning?” Patton asked taking a seat on the edge of Logan’s bed so he could finally see his face. Logan’s unkempt hair was slick with sweat, his fringe almost entirely obscured his eyes but from the small section Patton could see it was evident he hadn’t slept well at all. A dark shadow played beneath his eyes which were swollen and bloodshot as if he had been crying. The sight made Patton’s heart cry out in pain.

“I am satisfactory, I also seem to not have much of an appetite this morning that is why I chose not to attend breakfast,” Logan answered nonchalantly, without removing his attention from his work in front of him but he was betrayed by his own stomach as it let out a well-timed growl, proving the contrary but it only worsened the pain Patton felt. Why was Logan purposefully hurting himself? He was clearly hungry so why was he pretending?

“You need to eat something Logan, I’m going to bring you something to eat. I promise I’ll be quick,” Patton said standing and leaning over to Logan to place a gentle kiss on his forehead before leaving and returning with a plate of two slices of bread with crofters - as he knew it was something Logan liked - to find Logan had moved from his desk to sitting on the edge of his bed, all of his books and notes neatly put away. “Here, now eat up,”.

They spent the next few minutes in silence while Logan ate, meticulously tearing the bread into smaller pieces before eating. Patton hoped Logan’s evident hunger would encourage him to eat the entire sandwich but that was not the case as he set the plate aside with an entire slice remaining on his plate - albeit torn into tiny sections - Patton knew at some point they would need to have a discussion regarding Logan’s strange and at time worrisome eating habits but he decided to leave that conversation for another day.

“Will you be joining the party today?” Patton asked hoping to draw Logan out slowly.

“No, I wont,” Logan responded bluntly and without a moment of hesitation. Patton was confounded. Why? Logan had participated and shown in enjoyment in the entire preparation process but now he was choosing not to join? Had Patton perhaps missed something, some sign Logan had been uncomfortable at whole time and Patton had been simply to stupid and wrapped up in his own fantasy to notice?

“Can you tell me why?” Patton pressed.

“I-I…I do not wish to spoil Roman’s or anyone else’s enjoyment of the celebrations, I am still a stranger and I do not wish to be a disturbance to your family on this occasion so I decided to instead keep to myself though it appears my efforts have had the opposite affect and I am taking attention away from Roman,” Logan explained his voice barely audible but once Patton heard his reasoning his heart sank. Logan was purposefully isolating himself because he thought it would be for their benefit. He still believed himself to be an outsider or an intruder on their family and they wouldn’t want him to be apart of family events and celebrations. Tears stung Patton’s eyes but he refused to allow them to fall, he needed to remain strong for Longer right now.

“Can you look at me please Logan?” Patton pleaded which Logan did so willingly. He looked so exhausted. Patton cupped his cheeks gently while also giving him space to withdraw if he wished but he didn’t. “Logan, you are not a stranger, you are apart of this family. It doesn’t matter that you have only been here a couple of weeks, you are still my son and that won’t ever change. You aren’t spoiling or disturbing anything and you certainly aren’t taking away attention from anyone, it isn’t bad or wrong if you need a little reassurance sometimes and I promise I want you here and I know everyone else does too,”.

“B-but…,” Logan began preparing to attempt to counter Patton argument.

“Nope, no buts. You are my apart of my famILY, kiddo,” Patton said his serious tone washing away bursting into his fit of giggles, when Logan’s prior anxious expression changed into one of confusion at Patton’s statement. “How are you feeling now?”.

“Better, I am still experiencing some levels of anxiety but it has lessened somewhat,” Logan admitted raising a tentative hand to his chest and Patton noticed he was wearing the constellation sweater he had picked out on their shopping trip a few days prior and Patton felt his heart swell with pride.

“I’m glad kiddo, now everyone is waiting for you downstairs,” Patton said lowering his hands from Logan’s face and instead taking his hands into his own, giving them a light squeeze as Logan nodded allowing Patton to pull him up and lead him downstairs where the party could finally begin.

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[xiubaek-13]

Gods & Myths

Prompt: J-Hope + 3. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

Setting/AU: College AU

Warnings: Alcohol use, frat party, sexual tension, lewd humour etc

Word Count: 3,278

You didn’t want to be here. Every fiber of your being wanted desperately to be anywhere that wasn’t at the Gods and Myths party at Ravenwood Academy. It’s not that you hated parties, or despised dressing up, rather, it was that you hated ending up alone at these things. Your friends always came with you, spotted someone they were crushing on and left without fail. Leaving you alone for the remainder of the evening, easy prey for drunk creeps to hit on. Usually you left before they saw you all alone, in your mind you wondered if you had a huge neon sign above you that said Easy Target.

Every time you brought this fact up with them their responses were the same. “Well maybe you should try it sometime.” “It’s not going to hurt you to have fun. Live a little.” “Just do, don’t think about it for once in your life.”

All of that was easier said than done though. Overthinking was a skill of yours, one excelled at. Your friends meant well, you knew that, but it hurt to realise time and time again that in some aspects, they just truly didn’t understand you. You weren’t as outgoing as them and apparently didn’t have anywhere near as high a sex drive as they did. They said you were too picky while you thought that sometimes they weren’t picky enough.

You wanted to be the person who could just switch off and live in the moment but you were too observant, too analytical and too concerned with how what you did at any given moment would impact your life. Other people got to finish class and leave their academic commitments in their dorm, not concerned with how their actions in the night would impact them in the future but not you, the burden of responsibility weighed heavy on your shoulders. You had to get good grades so that you could get a good job and a good career. That was what had been ingrained into you since you were a small child. Romance and frivolity just weren’t luxuries that you could afford.

Regardless of how you feel about social gatherings, you’re here, sitting on Minhee’s bed with Sora while they brainstorm costumes for each of you to wear. According to them this party was a big deal and proper thought should go into your outfit. In your mind it was just middle ground between angels & devils and toga party. Wear a coloured sheet and something on your head and drink. It seemed simple to you but to your friends, it was more. They were well known for their partying ways and impeccable costumes. How you ended up with these two as your best friends you’ll never know, but you wouldn’t have it any other way… most of the time.

Minhee stands in front of her wardrobe facing the two of you with her arms crossed in front of her, resolute in her statement. “As a history major I refuse to allow the three of us to be basic. There will be enough Aphrodite’s, Hera’s, Athena’s and Persephone’s in attendance so we need something unique.” 

“Why don’t we go as the three fates?” Sora offers as she flips through a Greek Mythology book.

Minhee shakes her head. “No, then we’d have to spend the entire night together so that our costumes made sense.”

“Wow, you make hanging out together sound like a punishment.” You remark.

Her eyes roll. “You know that’s not how I meant it. If we do a group costume then we have to stick together. At the biggest party of the academic year.” Next to you Sora nods. If she thinks this is convincing you that she wasn’t being harsh before, she’s sorely mistaken.

“What Minhee is trying to say is that Jaebum is going to be there and she wants to get that.” She chuckles as she looks at you. “We love you dearly, but we both have goals for this party, and apparently that means we need standalone costumes. Otherwise Minhee will be insufferable because she couldn’t jump JB’s bones because we did a group costume… which is not a crazy persons reasoning at all.”

You can’t help but laugh at Sora’s bluntness. You knew they’d both be wanting to impress their crushes and that they would not be sticking with you all night. Still, the reality of being alone at a party yet again kind of dampens the mood for you. “Then Minhee should be Nyx.” You state.

“Primordial goddess of the night?” She asks, to no one in particular.

You shrug. “Look if there was a goddess of determination to get that dick then I’d pick that one for you. This is the closest thing.”

Sora collapses into the bed in a fit of laughter at your words while Minhee feigns offence, doing her best to not laugh yet. “Are you calling me a skank?”

“Of course not. If I wanted to do that I’d have suggested Peitho.” Minhee sputters as her cool facade cracks and she joins Sora in a fit of laughter, doubling over and grabbing the wardrobe with her spare hand to brace herself as she laughs.

“You bitch.” She says as she regains her composure.

“Honestly, the lengths you go to for dick.”  You do your best to sound nonchalant but a laugh breaks through.

“For that uncalled for comment you get to be Hecate, it’s not in the mythology books but I’m pretty sure she was a snarky biatch like you.” She points at Sora as you crack up laughing. “And you can be Kotys, you party animal.”

***

The party is going almost exactly how you imagined it would. The three of you arrived, wading through a crowd of multiple Hades, Persephone, Zeus, Hera, Apollo & Aphrodite costumes. Minhee and Sora are ecstatic that no one seems to have picked the goddesses that the three of you did but a small part of you wishes you could blend in with the crowd, it would make escaping drunk horny guys later so much easier.

You had to give it to the decorators. They had outdone themselves this year. The large dining hall had been transformed into a Greek paradise. There was a Mount Olympus in the back corner, a Dionysus themed bar, hanging gardens, beautifully draped sheets around fake columns. There were games all around the room, based off ancient Olympics and myths. You spotted a stone grotto where you had to trick Medusa, a makeshift river Styx, the list went on.

It was hard to believe that this was the dining hall. The spot where you usually sat for your meals was currently the entrance to hell and where you normally sat was Yoongi, dressed as Hades, trying to convince people to actually pay him money to be kept safe. You laughed to yourself, remembering the time that Minhee had her sights set on him only to be shut down because he didn’t want to fuck someone who didn’t know what an arpeggio was. She had been livid for weeks. She thought it was some kind of pasta. You and Sora hadn’t let her live it down, much to her displeasure.

The rest of his group are performing similar grifts around the room. Namjoon is at Mount Olympus, dressed as Zeus and giving orders as King of the Gods. Jimin is dressed as Eros and is wandering around pushing people together, daring them to kiss. Dressed is a loose statement given the minimal amount of coverage he has going for him but that kind of goes hand in hand with being the god of sexual desire, attraction, love and procreation. Jin is dressed as Plutus and in his drunken stupor keeps telling everyone “Opulence, I own everything!” Taehyung is behind the bar, dressed as Dionysus, reveling in getting partygoers drunk out of their brains. Jungkook is Heracles, doing upside down keg stands and challenging people to arm wrestling and Mario Kart, probably not exactly the picture of the greatest hero but he fits the strongest man on earth part of the brief. Hoseok is Caerus, flitting around the room to each of the games and convincing people to do things they normally wouldn’t, telling them he felt lucky about their odds of winning if they did as he suggested. Whoever put those 7 in charge as hosts for the evening was either out of their mind or a genius.

Shortly after arriving Sora directs you to the bar, making sure the three of you have drinks in your hands at all times then drags your trio over to a group who are playing a range of drinking games loosely based off mythology. So loosely that you’d wager that they were just playing normal drinking games and adding one greek work to them to fit the theme of the party. You glance at Minhee, thinking she might have hit the nail on the head with the goddess she picked for Sora, who raises a brow at you as if to say I was dead on right?

You stand back with Minhee while Sora leads the next round of games, completely in her element as the life of the party. Out of the corner of your eye you spot the very person who Minhee keeps searching for. She probably thinks she’s being subtle but to you she looks like a lost bird with how much her head is darting around as she scans the room. You nudge her, directing her attention towards her mark. “He’s over there when you’re ready to go throw yourself at him.”

She scoffs at you and smirks. “Don’t be ridiculous, I won’t need to throw myself at him, have you seen me in this dress?” To make sure you get the full effect she twirls and poses for you, her shamelessness making you cringe.

“Oh my god, just go already.”

Sora appears beside you, laughing. “Looks like I have perfect timing!” she says as she latches onto your arm, her grip ironclad, tugging it towards the centre of the group where the games are being played. “Come on, we’re playing the next game.”

“Wha-” you start to protest, refusing to budge from your spot. You don’t join in at these parties. You observe. You’re not the free spirited type. You don’t know the social cues or the rules for these games.

“No excuses. If you fuck up the game you drink, if you win you drink. Pretty simple really.” She holds onto your arm tightly, no intentions of letting you flee. “For once, try to enjoy yourself.” She says.

Begrudgingly you give up trying to escape. She knows you too well and she has no plans on letting go of you until you’re in the circle and the game is starting. There’s no escape now, not when you’re surrounded. Your anxiety spikes for a moment, wondering if all of the people around you know that you don’t fit in here. That little voice in your head tells you that they’re judging you, mocking you, no matter how hard you try to ignore it.  

“What game have you been playing here?” Hoseok asks, appearing out of nowhere, his red locks wreathed in olive branches. That part of his costume irks you. Caerus was always described as bald, with one lock of hair, not a luscious soft looking full head of hair. At least he had the non aging, beautiful part down, because Hoseok was beautiful. His high cheekbones and strong jawline framed his face, inviting eyes and an infectious smile made him hard to resist. You have watched him from a distance at many parties, never actually interacting with words. A few times he caught you staring, only to raise an eyebrow at you and for you to avert your gaze. This is the closest you’d ever been to him at a party and you decide that it is incredibly unfair for him to look that good.

“Escape the Manticore.” Someone says at the same time as you say “Beer Pong.” Hoseok laughs as he moves to the center of the group. He raises his hands, beckoning those in the circle to listen to him.

“An excellent choice of game, however, might I suggest a change in proceedings before Jungkook/Heracles makes his way over here?” The noises from the group seem to lean towards agreeing to change games. Everyone knows that you can’t beat Jungkook at beer pong. The guy is stupidly good at it. Smiling, Hoseok continues. “Might I suggest Sirens Call?”

You scoff. “What’s that, truth or dare?” The crowd laughs at your comment.

“Closer to spin the bottle actually.” Hoseok responds, winking at you as he does so. “Alright, you lot” He says as he points to 7 others, Sora and yourself “are playing this round with me.” You do your best to ignore the wink, surely he does that to everyone. Like Sora, he’s always the life of the party. It probably doesn’t mean anything. Even if part of you wants it to.

Sora claps with glee as she realizes that his selection includes the man she’s been ogling all night, Shownu. He’s a mountain of a man with soft, kind eyes and Sora has been swooning over him for months. You know that she’ll shatter the bottle if it doesn’t land on him when she spins it.

“You look like you want to eat him alive Sora, maybe dial it down a notch.” You murmur.

Her eyes flit to yours for a moment, a mischievous grin on her face. “I’d rather climb him like a tree but eating works as well.”

You don’t get a chance to tell her to keep it in her pants as Hoseok produces a bottle and motions for the ten of you to sit on the floor. “The person spinning the bottle is the siren. Whoever the bottle lands on is their target. If their target succumbs to their call and kisses them they’re out of the game, Sirens were kind of evil guys, they lured men to their deaths. If you resist the siren for thirty seconds then you survive and they are out of the game.

The game progresses as drunken people lock lips and disappear from the game, often wandering off together to continue where they left off, much to Jimin’s delight. Shownu did his best to resist Sora, but your maniac of a friend legitimately climbed him when he refused her request for him to kiss her, straddling his hips and teasingly leaning in, ghosting kisses over his neck, face & mouth until he gave in and captured her lips with his. As she got up and lead Shownu away from the group she winked at you, happy to have secured her man for the night.

Hoseok spins the bottle next. You watch it spin round and round, wondering who it will land on and if they’re going to be able to resist his charms. To your surprise the bottle lands on you. You stare at it in mild shock. Hoseok isn’t supposed to get this close to you. No, you watch him from afar, wondering what it would be like to touch him, to be held by him, to kiss him. But those were only ever supposed to be thoughts, never a reality.

You watch with wide eyes as he crawls towards you, like a predator circling its prey. You don’t know if you are strong enough to resist him, not when his eyes were laser focused on you like that. He’d never looked at you like that before. Whenever he’d caught you staring at him he’d always kept that inviting look in his eyes but that was nowhere to be found right now. It felt like he was staring into your soul which unnerves you. You try to swallow but your throat feels dry, and your hand can’t seem to find your drink.

He closes the distance between the two of you quickly, stopping only once his arms are caging your legs where you sit. He is too close, so close that you can feel his breath fanning your neck, you can smell his cologne, you can’t concentrate. He licks his lips and leans forward, his mouth ghosting your ear. Breathily he says “Kiss me” then moves back slightly so that he can see your face.

If you do as he asks you’ll lose the game, but you will have kissed Jung Hoseok. That little voice inside your head tries to tell you that he’d only be kissing you because of the game, not because he has any interest in you. Another smaller voice speaks up, telling you so what if its only because of the game? You still get to kiss him and if the other voice is wrong, then you’ll have bagged Jung motherfucking Hoseok. Where is the loss for you here?

You stare at his lips longer than you care to admit, at his prominent cupids bow and soft looking lower lip, at the way he slightly smirks when he realises that you’re fixated on his mouth. It feels like aeons but in reality it takes only seconds for the two of you to stare at each other, your eyes flickering because for a moment Hoseok does look like a god, but one who is within your reach, and it causes a quiet breath to escape your lips.

Cautiously you inch forward, and Hoseok cups your cheek with his hand. He feels warm. You lean into his touch, letting yourself indulge in the moment. You press your lips into his, they are softer than you were expecting. He moves his head slightly and your lips slot together perfectly, his hand sliding into your hair. You could end it here, you had already failed the game and there was no need to continue the kiss.

Except that you don’t want it to end. You want more. You press into his lips harder, parting them, and you feel him smile into it as he deepens the kiss. Your hand grips his cloak, as if you’re scared he will let go of you and end this. The nature of the kiss shifts from a soft, sweet meeting of the mouths to a heated, passionate tangling of tongues. When you do break apart its because you both need air. His eyes are hooded and dark as he stares at you as if you are the only person in the room.

Gradually both of you realize that you have an audience and you blush furiously. Hoseok clears his throat and looks around, attempting to put on the mask of the host as he says. “That’s game over. You know how it works now, form your own teams and go.” He grabs your wrist and helps you stand, his eyes never leaving your face. It’s written all over his face, plain as day, that he wants to kiss you again. You want to kiss him again too, but not with so many people around.

“Come with me?” He asks.

[goddessoffate96]

To Never Forget

[A/N] Here goes. A second chapter. I can’t say im 100% happy with the pacing or my way of progressing the story (I feel like at times I’m rushing things to try and move the story along). But I’m hoping with time and practice I’ll be able to iron out these little kinks, and as the chapters go on, my writing will develop (my fingers are well and truly crossed). @dayanna-hatter :D

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CHAPTER TWO: PARTY AND PRESENTS

Elide was speechless. As she got out of the car and turned towards Aelin’s house she didn’t know whether to be impressed or crawl into the nearest sewer drain. She knew Aelin was nothing if not an over-enthusiastic perfectionist, but she had really outdone herself this time. All across the front garden were streamers and balloons, while pegs in the ground held a huge number two and number three in place. That wasn’t what drew the blood to Elides face, that wasn’t what made her palms sweaty and her heart begin to race. All across the front of the house, hanging between the two farthest windows was a banner. Not just any banner. Elide was pretty sure it was the biggest banner she had ever seen in her life, and written across it in bold, capital, purple letters read: ‘HAPPY 23RD BIRTHDAY ELIDE!’.

“So? What do you think?” Aelin’s shoulder bumped into Elide’s, the blonde bombshell was grinning from ear to ear, clearly pleased with her handy work.

“I… Err… I mean… I don’t really… It’s big.” The nearest sewer drain was looking more and more tempting. “I suppose no one is going to wonder how old I am for a while.” Elide hoped the chuckle that escaped her throat was convincing enough for them all to stop staring at her.

“Hey Fireheart! We were expecting you about half an hour ago!” Coming towards them, dressed in dark blue jeans and a navy shirt was Rowan, and Elide honestly couldn’t have been happier to see him in that moment. “Happy Birthday El! Glad you decided to come. I’ll let you read the millions of texts I received this morning. Who knew someone could type so fast in the space of five minutes?” After giving Elide a quick hug, Rowan draped his arm around Aelin’s waist, pulled her into him and kissed the top of her head.

“I was panicking okay! Everything was planned, and we’d spent last night sorting the decorations. Elide’s life was looking pretty damn short in those five minutes!” They’d all started making their way up to the house, and Aelin turned to give Elide a quick wink before they got to the door. “Well birthday girl first.” As Elide took a deep breath, and mentally prepared herself for what was about to ensue, she reached forward and opened the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just as she’d expected, as soon as she stepped over the threshold a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’s and ‘Surprise’s were shouted at her. As Elide looked around at all her friends - and then some - she couldn’t help the grin that made its way across her face. She could still quite happily go and hide someplace else, but seeing all those faces smiling at her, she had to admit, it was infectious.

Dorian, Chaol and Yrene were the first ones over to her. Hugs were exchanged and a pat on the shoulder from Chaol had Elide holding back a laugh. Yrene pulled her over to the dining room table, on top of which sat her presents.

“You don’t have to open them now, in fact I’d probably suggest you don’t, it’ll be easier to carry them out to the car if they’re all still wrapped. But… I do want you to open this one.” With that Manon picked up a small square box, covered in blood red wrapping paper. Elide looked at her sister as she started carefully tearing it open. Inside the box lay a necklace, the ruby, the size of Elide’s little finger nail, was shaped like a tear.

“I know we’re not really the lovey-dovey kind of family, but I wanted you to have something that would remind you I’m always there for you. No matter what.” Elide didn’t hold back as she flung herself at her older sister and smiled.

“Thank you Min, it’s beautiful.” She felt her sister tense as she used her childhood nickname for her, but she soon relaxed once she realised Elide had said it only loud enough for her to hear.

Manon helped her put it on whilst everyone else started to disperse to find drinks or talk to other people they knew. Elide breathed a sigh of relief, realising that her friends really did know her better than she thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It hadn’t taken her long to realise that someone was missing. A quick walk around the house and the back garden (which had also been flooded with balloons and streamers, and confetti by the looks of it) had told her that Lorcan wasn’t here yet. Which probably meant he wasn’t going to show at all.

She couldn’t help but feel a bit deflated. Maybe she had been secretly wishing he’d come. He’d been the first person who had actually seemed to enjoy just sitting and talking to her. She’d never felt like he was itching to get back to the party, never felt like she was being a nuisance or that she was somehow holding him hostage. In those few hours they’d had together, she’d felt herself opening up to him. Yes, she’d been a little tipsy, and no she couldn’t remember everything they’d talked about, but that hadn’t been because of the drink. They’d covered so many topics, so many different branches of conversation, she honestly couldn’t remember them all if she tried.

Elide shook her head. She needed to stop thinking about it, about him. He wasn’t here, and this was her birthday party. If she went around looking like someone had just eaten the last tub of her favourite ice cream, people would start asking questions she really didn’t want to answer.

“Hey Elide, sorry I’m only just now coming over to see you. It’s kinda hard to find you, what with you being so short, and that dark dress doesn’t exactly make you stand out.” Elide turned to face one of Rowan’s friends, Fenrys. At least that’s what she thought his name was. The tall, golden haired man smiled at her as she finally looked at his face. She had to admit, he was very good looking, in that kind of pretty boy, surfer sort of way, and although she hadn’t really spoken to him before, the rest of her friends had only had good things to say. She couldn’t help but give a small laugh.

“Well, you found me. My natural ability to hide must be wearing off. You’re Fenrys, right? One of Rowans friends? Sorry, I’m really bad with faces, and even worse with names.” She smiled and hoped she wasn’t being too awkward. Small talk really wasn’t one of her strong suits, add to that the fact that she hated long silences, and it made conversations a bit like a game of minesweeper.

Fenrys let out a low laugh. “Yeah, that’s me. I’ve known Rowan for about 5 years now, but I’ve seen you out a couple times before, and you’ve kinda always been on your own. Why is that? No one else good enough company?” At that he crossed his arms and gave her a playful questioning look, one eyebrow carefully raised and a small smile on his lips. Elide couldn’t help but smile back.

“No, it’s not that. Parties just aren’t my thing. Give me a good book or movie, blankets, popcorn and ice cream and I’ll be in my element. I like company, just not in crowded situations.” She gave a small shrug. She didn’t expect Fenrys to understand. He looked like the kind of guy who could work a crowd, and he definitely had the body and looks to attract all sorts of attention. He seemed kind enough, but Elide couldn’t help but still feel out of place. There were very few people she felt she could truly relax around, and even they had taken years for her to get to that stage. All except one person. He had only taken a few hours.

“Ahh, right. I get it. Some people just find talking to new people easier than others. From what I’ve heard, you’ve got no reason to be so shy. Everyone says great things about you El. In fact that’s kinda the reason why I came over to talk to you…”

Elide knew at that moment that it was time to find somewhere else to be. She liked Fenrys, he seemed like a really decent guy, and maybe, if her mind wasn’t stuck playing a certain pair of onyx eyes on repeat like her own personal slide show, maybe, she might have even considered entertaining the idea of flirting with him.

“Sorry Fenrys, I’ll be back, its just I’m sure Lysandra has people she wants to introduce me to, and like you said, I’m kinda hard to find. But it's been really nice talking to you, I hope to see you around again, maybe come say hi next time you see me hiding in the shadows?”

“Oh sure, yeah definitely! I’ll be sure to do that. Enjoy the rest of your birthday, Elide. A girl like you deserves to let her hair down once in a while.” She gave Fenrys one last smile as she started to make her way through the crowded house. She couldn’t help but pray to anyone or anything listening that no one else was going to approach her when she heard someone knocking at the front door.

“Elide, could you get that, my hands are full and I ordered pizza. Don’t worry I got your favourite. Though why you like pineapple on pizza is beyond me.” Asterin’s voice travelled down from the top of the stairs, and as Elide looked up she could see that her friends’ hands were indeed full. Full of some poor guys hair, while it looked like her face may have been superglued to his.

Smiling and shaking her head as she reached for the door, Elide began to hope that Asterin had chosen to order - and subsequently pay - online, but decided that she had best check her bag for cash just in case. As she pulled the door open, she began rummaging through her small purse.

“Sorry just give me a minute. Do you need cash or was this paid for already?” As she looked up to greet the delivery guy, she was in fact met with a completely different view. Her eyes kept drifting up until she finally met his gaze.

“I don’t normally expect people to pay me for bringing them flowers on their birthday, but if you want to start a trend, I think I’m okay with that.” Elide moved out of the way to let him through the door. “Sorry I’m late, meetings ran over and I still had phone calls to make. Have I missed anything important?” Elide couldn’t help but stare at him, he always looked unhappy, but there was a gentleness in his eyes that she couldn’t help but dream about.

Rowan appeared from one of the side rooms, and slapped a hand on Lorcans back. “Lor! Glad you could make it mate. Nah, you’ve missed nothing. The party’s just getting started.”

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[A/N] Chapter two is done. Sorry to leave it just as it was getting to what everyone wants, but I’ve always wanted to do that, so I indulged myself :). Please feel free to leave any sort of criticism or advice if you feel like it, and try to be nice, I am as novice as they come, but I’m willing to learn. Also if you wanna drop me a message about anything (Sarah J. Maas related, or even just to chat) that’d be pretty cool too :D x

[ssromanogers]

For the Romanogers Fandom

Merry Kissmas

Or five times cuffing season allows Natasha to kiss Steve and the one time he kisses her first

1- Right after the battle of New York, the Avengers moved into the newly renovated Avengers Tower just in case another major battle occurred again. Even though they were now a team, everyone still kept to their own schedules. Clint had missions, Bruce had scientific breakthroughs to focus on, Thor went back to Asgard, and Tony was always busy with keeping the world safe. As for Steve and Natasha… well… they became partners. It allowed them to get closer as Steve adjusted to the world, and Natasha got used to relying on another person besides Clint.

It was December and the Avengers Tower was all decked out; Tony splurged for the team’s first Christmas together. Decorations all over, which, of course, means there has to be mistletoe. Truth be told, Tony had them so he could use it as an excuse to kiss Pepper when she would visit. He never enforced the rule on the other Avengers— only to tease them. He didn’t expect anyone else to follow the traditions, so imagine his surprise when he catches the Black Widow and Captain America strolling in together on the main floor dangerously close to a mistletoe hanging above.

“Woah, Cap, you know the rule! Under the mistletoe means you gotta smooch.”

Both Steve and Natasha look up to see that they were indeed right underneath the mistletoe. Steve was ready to argue against the silly tradition. He didn’t want to scare his new partner off, besides, wouldn’t it make things awkward? However, before he could even utter a word, Natasha already made her decision. She turns Steve towards her, and pulls him down to give him a quick kiss. She then continues her walk toward the kitchen, leaving both Steve and Tony in shock.

2- Steve still has a lot to learn in the ways of espionage. It’s a good thing he has such a good teacher: Natasha. The two of them were currently undercover for a Christmas ball. It was a front to distract from what was really going on in the basement. Their mission was to gather intelligence. This would be easier if Natasha went by herself, but she had a partner now and he needed to learn how it was done.

They were currently making their way down the hall towards the service elevator that would take them down to where the action is. Steve was following Natasha’s lead since he was outside of his element. He couldn’t help but admire her appearance; she was breathtaking, as always. They spent the whole night talking and playing the part of a couple. He could almost believe they were one if it weren’t for the conversation about the arms dealer that kept coming up. Hearing footsteps approaching, Natasha stops, she quickly turns around to Steve.

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.”

“Yes they do…”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before she’s already on him. She pulls him down to meet her lips with her arms wrapped around his neck. He moves his hands on her waist.

“Hey! You two! This isn’t the way to a room!”

They quickly pull apart with a flush on both of their faces. Natasha is the one to recover first.

“Sorry about that. I guess we were a bit distracted.”

The guy eyes her in suspicion. Steve was watching to see his next move, but again, Natasha strikes first. She knees the guy, then elbows his head, knocking him down quickly. Steve immediately jumps in to throw a punch at the guy knocking him unconscious.

“Nice work, Soldier.”

“Thanks, we should move.”

She nods in agreement and off the two of them go towards the elevator. Once inside, Natasha smiles at him.

“What?”

“I know what you’re thinking, Steve.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“You’re thinking that it didn’t work, but trust me. One day you’ll see that kissing me makes a good cover.”

3- They’ve been partners for over a year now. They’ve gotten a lot closer and so has the rest of the team. They all enjoy being together and have grown to care for one another. It’s with this thought in mind that Tony decides to throw a massive New Year’s Eve party. Everyone was invited and they all turned out for the event— even Nick Fury was invited.

There was about ten minutes left until the new year began when Steve finds Natasha out on the balcony; she was always eye catching. She turns to smile at him and beckons him to come over.

“Ready for the new year, Nat?”

“Almost, there’s just one thing missing.”

“Oh? What’s missing?”

“A New Year’s kiss. They say it’s good luck.”

“You believe in that stuff?”

She just shrugs and turns back to look at the view before them. New York City was all lit up, waiting for the countdown. Without another word, Natasha slips away, back into the crowd inside the tower. Steve decides to go back inside as well.

Soon, everyone starts the countdown: “10! 9! 8!…” Steve feels a tap on his shoulder at “3!”, he turns around to find Natasha smiling at him before she pulls him down for a kiss. “1! Happy New Year!”

This kiss was over far too quickly. Steve didn’t even get to say anything before she was off again, disappearing into the crowd.

4- After Ultron, the Avengers have changed. Steve and Nat were in charge of whipping the new recruits into place. It was natural for the two of them to be together leading a team. Going back to how they were as partners, but was there really going back? Their relationship has changed from coworkers, to friends, and now… well, Steve wasn’t sure what they were. He was trying to be a good friend, but there were nights when he couldn’t help thinking they could be something more. It seems he wasn’t the only one.

Natasha was drunk— absolutely wasted. It was just the two of them at the Avengers facility. The rest of the Avengers were allowed time off to celebrate the holidays. This was probably why she decided to have a drink. She was stumbling from the kitchen when Steve found her. As soon as she saw him, her eyes lit up and she giggled. She was definitely drunk.

“Come on, Nat, let’s get you to bed.”

“Is that an invitation, Steve?”

He doesn’t answer her, instead, he picks her up intending to take her back to her room. She looks up at him and sighs. She rests her head against his chest and closes her eyes. She may be drunk, but she wasn’t about to admit what drove her to this state. She was content just to have Steve by her side again.

He sets her down on her bed and tucks her in. He wishes her a good night before turning to leave; but he doesn’t get far as she catches his hand.

“Stay with me, Steve.”

He turns to face her, and as much as he wanted to say yes, it was a bad idea. She sits up, still holding his hand. He leans down intending to get her to lie back down, but she had another idea. She leans in to kiss him; he could taste the vodka on her lips. He opens his mouth and allows her tongue to slip through, exploring within. She pulls him down with her as they continue kissing. But once she puts her hands in his hair, it snaps him back to reality. He wasn’t dreaming, but he was taking advantage of her. He pulls away, to her disappointment.

“Nat, you’re drunk.”

“Am not.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. She was being childish. He decides that if she remembers what happened in the morning, then they would address it. He helps her settle back into bed before leaving to his own room.

5- After the snap, nothing was the same; they were all broken. Steve saw his best friend turn to dust right before him. They had lost. His brain couldn’t seem to understand what had just happened; it had to be a nightmare. All he had to do is wake up, but it wasn’t. The only reason he kept his sanity was because of her: Nat. After Thanos, left she immediately searched for him. She nearly cried when she saw him still alive— relief in her eyes that he didn’t vanish like the others.

Since that day, the two of them stayed close. They were all each other had left. Together, they put their efforts into forming a plan to right what Thanos had done wrong. Months had passed, and they were exhausted, but they had to keep working.

“Steve, you need to go to sleep.”

“In a minute, Nat.”

“Steve.”

Her tone makes him stop to look at her. She needed sleep herself, but she still looked stunning to him.

“Nat, I promise I’ll get some sleep when this is done, alright?”

She stays quiet. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she chooses to hold her tongue. She turns away, heading toward her room. Steve tries to go back to work after that, but thoughts of Natasha made it difficult. He couldn’t concentrate. It’s easier when she’s by his side.

He knocks on her door before turning the knob. She was sitting on the bed, almost as if she was waiting for him. He closes the door behind him and sits down next to her. He wants to ask her what’s wrong, but she beat him to it.

“I remember that night. I know you think I was too drunk to remember, but I do.”

“Nat…”

Her green eyes met his. She moves her hand up to touch his cheek, drawing him closer to her. Their faces were inches apart. She was giving him a chance to stop it if he wanted to— he didn’t. She leans in and their lips connect. It was a soft and slow kiss, unlike their kisses in the past. She breaks the contact and she finally admits it:

“Steve, I love you.”

She crashed her lips into his once more. This one was filled with passion. Almost as if she was pouring all of her love into it.

+1- They did it, they won. Thanos was defeated and those they lost were back. There is still a lot of adjusting to do, but they have all the time in the world to do it. All that matters is that everyone is alive and well.

It’s strange to see everyone under one roof at the Avengers facility for Christmas, but it’s very fitting. After all, they’re family, and it’s the holidays. Everyone is smiling and having a good time while opening their presents.

Steve takes Natasha’s hand walking her away from the crowd. They were finally together. After Natasha admitted her feelings for him, they made it official. He smiles at her and she smiles back. Neither of them ever thought they could be happy again.

“Where are you taking me, Steve?”

“Right… here.”

“We’re right outside the living room.”

“Look up.”

She does, and right above them is a single mistletoe. She laughs, but it’s short lived. Steve turns her around, pulling her into his chest. He leans down and kisses her, short and sweet.

“I love you, Nat.”

“I love you too, Steve.”

He claims her lips again; they had to make up for lost time.

Merry Kissmas.

[otdderamin]

Transcript: The story Matt wants to tell – TM 2019-04-09 for CR C2 Ep057

A major theme of this Talks episode was the narratives Matt does and doesn't want to tell. He talked about why he doesn't want to kill the pets, doesn't want Nott to be rejected, doesn't want to end the campaign from poor choices, and wants light in the darkness to inspire. Sam said Matt is "a good man, and a good friend, and a great scene partner…" Matt's voice acting and detailed world building aren't what make him a good DM. They're wonderful, but they're decoration on his true talents: empathy and reciprocity.

This is a set of lessons any DM can take home and use.

"I think, to a certain extent, I'm forgiving because it's a game you play for fun. And it's not necessarily fun if part of being caught up in the story and the adventure is having to worry about every single moment…" (0:12:20)

Being harsh isn't always fun. If it's fun for the player, then sure. But if being harsh will ruin a player's fun, avoid it until it makes for interesting choices and narrative. Make is a special event, not relentless cruelty.

Being a good person, good friend, and a good scene partner means enabling players to be narratively rewarded with happiness.

"It's not fun for you to just tell players, 'Well, you made a poor choice; now you're all dead.' Like, you want the story to keep rolling." (0:23:57)

Think about the story you want to tell, and the story you don't want to tell. You don't have to tell stories where everything is awful for it to be dramatic. "There's enough darkness and tragedy and difficulty in the world and in the stories you guys are playing through, you know, you need to pick moments of light. You need to pick things to fight for. You need to introduce elements that give each character a glimmer to carry them through those difficult points." (0:33:59)

The plays as well and the GM tell the story. Your job as the DM if to facilitate them telling their own story and creating opportunities for their growth.

"As a dungeon master, you want to make sure you facilitate the story that gives the opportunity for them to grow together and to make choices that kind of align their goals to the point that they become a solid group and a family, eventually. That's kind of the basis of a good adventuring party." (0:55:50)

"The challenge is finding ways where you can present them with common ground or give them opportunities to care enough for each other to be invested in each other's stories, and look for places where naturally some stories can be parallel, or at least, you know, you can achieve goals alongside each other so they don't feel like they're constantly at odds with each other's direction." (0:56:11)

Think of how to set the difficulty of choices. A game where good and evil are more obvious has more obvious choices. It's more challenging to create a campaign where good and evil exist but determining who is what takes more investigation.

"But I guess there is no right path for this campaign, and the right path is sort of whatever we decide it is as a group, or whatever is the most meaningful for us as an individual character in that moment. Which is really more like real life, obviously. And so far, possibly more rewarding, in a way, 'cause we're not just following along the path of the game to the end of the game, like, we're making our own path through a world and the game is that journey. It's not to get from point A to B, it's the direction that we take it." (0:57:11)

Scenes runs:

1. Not gonna kill pets easily:  0:12:20 to 0:14:15

2. A good scene partner: 0:15:53 to 0:16:15

3. It's not fun to kill players for poor choices: 0:23:57 to 0:24:07

4. There's enough darkness and tragedy in the world: 0:33:33 to 0:34:30

5. It's fun for players to surprise you: 0:51:37 to 0:53:11

6. DM to facilitate the story 0:55:50 to 0:59:32

1. Not gonna kill pets easily

0:12:20 Matt: "I think, to a certain extent, I'm forgiving because it's a game you play for fun. And it's not necessarily fun if part of being caught up in the story and the adventure is having to worry about every single moment they do something cool going to kill their pet. But there is a level of negligence that will come into play."

Sam, huffily: "I don't agree. I just disagree fundamentally.

Matt: "Do you?"

Sam, passionately: "If you can't keep- This is what I was told as a child: okay, you can have a dog, but you're going to have to take care of it. If Laura Bailey can't take care of her dog, her imaginary dog, with her imagination she should not be able to have that dog."

Brain: "I mean, I kind of understand."

Matt, flatly: "Okay, cool, then kill it."

Sam, immediately crestfallen: "Oh, I can't do that to Laura or the dog."

Matt, yelling: "NOW YOU THINK WHY I CAN'T! SO MUCH EASIER FOR ME! Like, no, okay?"

Laughter.

Sam: "Okay, I see your point. I see your point."

Matt: "If it's a scenario where because of her choices she puts a pet in danger intentionally, or it's a scenario where it would come into play and there's a failure to maintain its safety, then yes. But more often than not, it if it's- It comes down to saying, is it more fun if this happens, and if it's more fun for the player for me to create that challenge constantly, then yes. But with Laura, unless she's really doing some moves that consciously would put her pets in danger, and it makes an interesting choice that is fun all around, then I'll do it. Otherwise I don't want to be too much of a stickler and sit on her good time."

Dani: "I feel like most situations being faced with the potential of you accidentally killing your dog isn't fun."

Matt: "Right, so I'm going to savor those for when it's right for the narrative so it's a special event should it occur."

Sam: "Alright."

0:14:15

2. A good scene partner

0:15:53 Sam: "But Matt, being a good man, and a good friend, and a great scene partner, he made Yeza an accepting sort, and I'm thrilled, and now I get to explore what the next step is for her and her husband now that they're at least temporarily together."

0:16:15

3. It's not fun to kill players for poor choices

0:23:57 Matt: "Like, I didn't want it to be like, 'Well, either this happens or campaign's over.' It's not fun for you to just tell players, 'Well, you made a poor choice; now you're all dead.' Like, you want the story to keep rolling."

0:24:07

4. There's enough darkness and tragedy in the world

0:33:33 Matt: "I would hate to think that they would sacrifice so much, and her've been through so much, and then to come and go across what is perceived by them as one of the most dangerous places in the world for him to be just an asshole at the end of it."

Sam: "That would have been funny though."

Matt: "That would have been funny? It would have been awful!"

Sam: "It would have been awful."

Matt: "And I don't want to tell THAT story."

Brain: "What's better, though, funny or awful?"

Sam: "You know which side of the coin I fall on. No, no, it was perfect. What you did was perfect."

Brian: "Yeah, it was."

0:33:59 Matt: "Well, yeah. And there's enough darkness and tragedy and difficulty in the world and in the stories you guys are playing through, you know, you need to pick moments of light. You need to pick things to fight for. You need to introduce elements that give each character a glimmer to carry them through those difficult points. And for Nott, really honestly, with everything she's been through, that one glimmer is her family, and I just wanted to play true to that."

Sam: "You did good."

Matt: "Cool."

Brain: "You did very good."

0:34:30

5. It's fun for players to surprise you

0:51:37 Matt: "One of my favorite things about being a dungeon master is when your players surprise you. Not just from their actions, but their growth. And seeing where you all started, seeing kind of the journey of the Mighty Nein from these people that wanted least of all to be involved in grander schemes. That really seem to pay no mind or take any stock in the way the world at large seems to be moving and grinding forward, to step up and begin to take real interest into the care of good people and the future ahead of them. It was amazing.

0:52:22 Matt: "And for me it's a really thrilling and really prideful moment because it, to me as a story teller, it excites me to think that the players are creating their story as much as I'm creating the world around it. And um, you know, people say, like, 'Matt, you're a decent dungeon master.' I'm like, I'm decent, but it's the magic that everyone brings to the table together that makes a good story, and that goes for any table out there.

0:52:47 Matt: "And this is a perfect example of moments that are a prime, shining example of what the players bring that makes the story so dynamic and so interesting and beautiful, and I can't do any of that. I'm just, I'm in awe of what you guys do every week and hope to try and keep up and, you know, do my best to make it worth what you all do, too."

Sam: "You're getting there."

Matt: "I know. I'm working on it."

0:53:11

6. DM to facilitate the story

0:55:50 Matt: "As a dungeon master, you want to make sure you facilitate the story that gives the opportunity for them to grow together and to make choices that kind of align their goals to the point that they become a solid group and a family, eventually. That's kind of the basis of a good adventuring party."

Brain: "But how aligned do you feel everyone's goals are? Since you know their all back- Since you know everyone's backstories, I understand what you're saying, but, like, how aligned are they, do you think?"

0:56:11 Matt: "Not terribly, so the challenge is finding ways where you can present them with common ground or give them opportunities to care enough for each other to be invested in each other's stories, and look for places where naturally some stories can be parallel, or at least, you know, you can achieve goals alongside each other so they don't feel like they're constantly at odds with each other's direction. You know.? It's part of the interesting narrative balance you take as a story teller and as a GM is trying to take them on adventures, but also take them on adventures they're invested in and willing to go along with. And that's a bit of a buy-in for the players as well, but…"

0:56:51 Sam: "Yeah, this campaign you've given us choices that are much more grey, grey choices, I feel. In the first campaign we were all essentially on the same path on the same team."

Matt: "It was very, good and evil was clearly defined for the most part."

Sam: "But this is so, so interesting and so much more rewarding."

Brain: "Is it more challenging for you as a player?"

0:57:11 Sam: "It's much more challenging 'cause, you know, we're looking for- I'm looking for those, not clues, but just something I can sink my teeth into to be like, 'Okay, I think we're on the right path.' But I guess there is no right path for this campaign, and the right path is sort of whatever we decide it is as a group, or whatever is the most meaningful for us as an individual character in that moment. Which is really more like real life, obviously. And so far, possibly more rewarding, in a way, 'cause we're not just following along the path of the game to the end of the game, like, we're making our own path through a world and the game is that journey. It's not to get from point A to B, it's the direction that we take it."

0:58:09 Brain: "It's what's between A and B that's important, right?"

Sam: "Those are the friends we made along the way."

Brian: "Jesus Christ. You could have just- Ugh."

0:58:16 Sam: "But no, it's interesting, and certainly more frustrating, and challenging, but I think, I hope, ultimately more rewarding. Unless we choose wrong! And maybe we're wrong about this the whole time and there is a right and wrong answer and we're just getting it wrong."

0:58:30 Matt: "Well, I mean, the whole world isn't grey. There is good and there is evil, and there are things in between, and really what it comes down to is being inquisitive enough and following the right threads to uncover those shades of light and dark amongst the grey. And you guys have done a good job of that in some places, and you guys are beginning to unravel certain threads of that in the world on different faction sides and stuff, and so you're just now getting to a path. Like, more so previously there it was, you know, personal stories and exploration and kind of things. You're just now starting to ask more of the right questions and starting to piece together your own interpretations of what's happening on a macro scale. And for me it's awesome to see it come together and be like, 'Oh, they're onto something. Oh, they're on the wrong path. Oh, that was an interesting idea. Oh, they're getting there.' You know? And like, me knowing kind of what's going on, I dunno. It's fun. It's really fun for me."

Sam: "It's fun for me, too."

0:59:32

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[naomi-owens]

the big reveal

who? Naomi Owens & Michael Otis where? Owens’s Residence when? February 16th, 2019

The neon color of red numbers blinked against the dashboard and served as a distraction for Naomi while attempting to work up the courage to speak, but alas, all of which proved to be difficult when she was taking up the passenger side seat of Michael’s vehicle. She was pregnant. Three positive pregnancy tests later, and each time showcased a link positive plus, two lines, or a yes on the little stick — she couldn’t be positive until she went to the doctor, but three out of three simply told her a best friend’s suspicion had managed to be right. For the remainder of the wedding, a night filled with magic and laughter while coming off the high romance of Valentine’s Day two days prior, it was hard to think of anything else. She was a thirty two year old single teacher living in her childhood home with her mother, pregnant with her ex-fiancé’s child. There was no doubt that the child belonged to Michael, with the flash memory of their night together in Raleigh connected the dots. It made sense. While it could have been means for a worry, she couldn’t help but feel an immediate inkling of joy — after all, a baby was what she always dreamed of, and she got that little tearful celebration out with Amy in the venue’s bathroom. A minute ticked by since the car pulled into park against the curb of her childhood home, a glow from a lamp left on in the living room being the only thing that kept the house alive, and with a quick swipe of her hair behind her shoulder that had lost it’s place in a pin at the base of her neck sometime throughout the night, Naomi finally spoke out. “Do you wanna come sit out back with me for awhile?” 

The first half of the wedding festivities went really well and it was a good time, especially considering that while Michael was an amiable man he wasn't necessarily the most social. He was someone that enjoyed the quiet a little more, and it was the woman beside him in his SUV that had changed the course of his social life. For when he was her man, it meant quite a few social engagements to attend to as the supporting other half. Something he did without any complaint, and something he eventually grew quite comfortable with. It helped that Calvin was in attendance at the wedding, giving him someone to spend time with when Naomi was having girl time or off mingling with the people in attendance. Weston had been too busy but Michael tried to hang with his neighbor and Jake when able. The second half of the festivities, it didn't go without notice to the man that was acutely aware of his surroundings at all times that something was different with his ex fiance. Michael chalked it up to being emotional for being at a wedding, and took her home without asking about it because it seemed logical. Though the amount of time she sat there, and quietly, in the passenger seat without moving to get out upon arrival at her home was cause for his brow to crease. Just as he was about to speak up, it was as though she sensed his action and beat him to it. "Yeah, of course. Everything alright?" He reached out and brushed his hand over her shoulder and let his thumb travel down the curve of her neck before getting out of the vehicle and rounding it to open her door for her and give her a hand in stepping out of it. "Did I mention how beautiful you looked today?"

"Everything is fine, yeah." Technically? Yes, it was fine. This was a big deal, but not that big of a deal. It was just a baby. A baby between two exes who hadn't even made it down the aisle... but a baby nonetheless. Leave it to Michael to always leave her blushing, without a doubt though. Even when her mind was in the clouds and she was overly distracted, he still managed to make her cheekbones swarm with a heated crimson. "I think you said that once or twice." The brunette teased him this time, long lashes fluttering when she winked at him, climbing down from the SUV so the thin heel of her shoe clicked against the concrete. Almost as if it was natural, Naomi's hand snaked around Michael's forearm and she instead pulled him around the side gate of the backyard that was still lit up from the porch and the solar twinkle lights they used to decorate over the summer, leading him toward the wooden swing on the off corner to the left. It was chilly, but not enough to shy you inside with no jacket on. "Did you have a good time tonight?" Naomi figured starting off slow was a good idea, as truthfully, she was working off winging it here. It was a little early — she found out a whopping six hours ago, but Naomi knew she couldn't continue seeing Michael so often without sharing the fact that it was a possibility. Sitting down, Naomi immediately crossed her leg, and tugged on his arm to sit close with her. "I'm glad you came with me. You know, as a date..." She smirked a bit. "Rather than arm candy.”

Walking with Naomi, arm in arm, and holding his ex close to his side as they made their way to her backyard made Michael even more nostalgic with the memories that flooded in his head of all the time they had done this specific action before. "I had a pretty great time, yeah. Did you?" He shifted out of his jacket before he sat down and wrapped it around the brunette beauty, then sat close with her on the wooden swing to make sure she stayed warm in the dress and the chilled night. "You know how I am with big gatherings but it's always a pleasure to watch you in your element, smiling and mingling with your friends and such. The food was goo, cake even better, and I think Wes was happy." Reaching for her hand, he took it in his and held onto her, smoothing his thumb back and forth over her knuckles. He smiled and chuckled at her tease, "well, we all know my goal has always been to be your trophy man..." The retired Marine sent a wink her way but the confirmation of the word 'date' resonated with him and he breathed it in, letting it settle around him. It felt as though they were starting again, which would make Michael happy but it made him wonder what she wanted to talk about. "You sure you're ok though? I couldn't help but notice your mood changed half way through the day..." It wasn't so much that Mike was hyper aware of Naomi, he was just more skilled in observation than everyone. He was highly trained to read even the smallest most minute details. "Kind of hard to attend a wedding with your former fiance, huh?"

“I did. And yeah, I think they’re over the moon. I know Amy was feeling romantic tonight because of it.” Naomi laughed, finding that it was much easier snuggling up within her ex’s jacket than it should have been. If she was really a stickler for putting the past in the past, she wouldn’t have even brought up the idea of going to this thing together. Ha, what a turn of events that was, especially with what she was working up the courage to reveal to him. Glancing down at the joined hands, Naomi twisted her wrist so her palm was exposed and Michael’s thumb brushed over the inside instead. “Trophy man?” Naomi laughed, though shook her head. “You always were more than a trophy, silly.” In reality, he was made up of the dream man her father told her to wait for. She was certain in her choice when she decided right then and there when she accepted that date back at her college campus. “Do you ever find it funny? You know, to think about? Who would’ve thought a marine handing out surveys a few years ago when I was in college would end up right beside me?” Naomi laughed. As he questioned her mood, knowing she had been caught practically red headed, Naomi had shifted in her spot and brought his hand to his lap. “If I were to tell you something, something I’m not one hundred percent sure of but something I can’t continue to keep from you... Would you be willing to listen? With open ears, and I suppose... an open heart?” She but into her bottom lip, finding those nerves in her stomach return. “It’s not that, it’s just...” Her head shook. “It’s different.”

The hand turned over in his, the pad of Michael's thumb took to tracing the lines on the inside of Naomi's palm. Her near slip up of saying husband brought forth a quiet chuckle, but he stayed mum on commenting on it for fear that her response could chase away the good feeling it gave him. "But still a trophy though, right?" Michael joked, grinning broadly for a moment. "Well, to be honest with you, since meeting you that day I've thought about it every day since then," the retired Marine confessed, though figured it wouldn't be news to Naomi. Michael was old school in the romance department and when his heart had set on the one it left room for no one else or any other possibilities. Which, he blamed now for his inability to let her move on with her life after trying to be with her twice and it failing on them. "I've learned though to stop looking ahead and making big plans on what I want in life. You do that and you can miss out on too much of the day to day livin'. I can't think of anywhere else I want to be though than right beside you." There was no way that wasn't going to come out on this day, at some point, given the ex fiancés had just attended a wedding together and Naomi was beyond a knockout in her gorgeous dress. He couldn't help while being in attendance with her what their wedding would've looked like. When she shifted, Michael did as well, he had the feeling whatever her answer was going to be that it was important. He picked up on that through body language alone, something was definitely weighing on her. "Always, Naomi... without question." Studying her face for a moment, he nodded when she admitted it had nothing to do with them attending a wedding together, and it was a bit of a sinking feeling. "What is it? You can tell me anything, talk to me about anything... you know that. Whatever it is... it's ok, just talk to me."

“Oh, totally.” Naomi laughed it off when Michael returned to narrow in on the idea of a trophy, and in some ways, he very much was. He was a man made up of positives that Naomi could only dream of. A handy man, a heart of gold, aspiring father and it wasn’t like he was lacking in the looks department. One look at the blonde head of hair, speckled define jawline and those dreamy blue eyes and Naomi was certain she had swallowed her heart completely. “The shiniest trophy there could be. My father even said so.” He was the second out of all her boyfriends to even met her father, and Eli in turn actually liked Michael. Smooshing her lips together, Naomi contained the smile that threatened her features, staring down at the way Michael took to tracing her palm. “That’s a long time.” She murmured, as Naomi had met Michael on a whim on the cusp of her college graduation. “You’re a little crazy.” She then laughed, shaking her head. “You amaze me sometimes, you know? The way you see things...” She was often called the ray of sunshine, but Naomi couldn’t disagree more. For her, that was Michael. “You’ve accomplished so much, you’ve dedicated your life to something many can’t even fathom and yet... you still manage to stun me.” Her head moved to rear from his grip to instead let her fingers ghost across his cheek, caressing the cheekbone then jaw then even moving down to his lips. A smile spread across her lips though wavered due to the fact that the gut wrenching nerves were still very much there, but backing out now wasn’t an option. She couldn’t have this little piece of knowledge and not clue him into it.“I, um. Amy actually pointed it out to me. I think I’ve been shying over the details but now, looking at it, it kind of makes sense...” Her lips parted and she actually sucked in a sharp breath. “Anyway, I haven’t been feeling all too much like myself, and she brought these tests with her after a mishap this morning before the wedding and...” Her nose scrunched, but as her hand dropped down to recapture his hand for a bit of support, she finally let it out. “There’s still that slim margin, but according to three very positive tests, I’m pretty certain I’m pregnant.”

It was bittersweet, the mention of her father and how he had approved of Michael. The loss of him was when things changed between them, or at least on Naomi's side, and his own side was the effects of his career. It was something though, to get that nod of approval and something he never took lightly. Michael was an older brother to a baby sister, unfortunately the youngest Otis child with four older brothers, and he had always been protective of her. He'd always imagined he'd be the same if he ever had children some day. "I've been out there. It really changes a lot going to war." The retired Marine always had a hard time taking a compliment. He leaned his head into Naomi's touch a little and offered her a bit of a smile. The  man was literally at war with himself over everything he had accomplished and it definitely wasn't the time for that kind of talk so he accepted her words, because at the end of the day it all meant something. He did save a lot of lives and he did lay his life on the line for country for sixteen some years. The smile she wore and the way it faded worried him, he was left hanging there on the hook and at her mercy with whatever she had to reveal to him or speak to him about. Michael wasn't a man really shaken by anything anymore, so he wasn't nervous but there was some mild concern resting on his shoulders. He squeezed her hand when her's dropped down to grab his and his brow stitched together with the build up of what was to come. As soon as he heard I'm pregnant almost all Michael could hear was his blood rushing through his ears and the man was completely stunned. He didn't sit there like a dummy though, he took her jaw gently into his grasp and his oceanic gaze bore into her chocolate stare."You're pregnant?" Suddenly it actually explained a few things between today and when he saw her on Valentine's Day. "Three positive tests?" The happiness and excitement was bubbling up inside of him. "What's the slim chance? You haven't been to the doctor yet  for a blood test huh? We can go tomorrow." Michael was trying his best to contain himself but his heart was about to beat right out of his chest. "You're pregnant," he said strongly that time and pulled her in to plant his lips onto hers.

It was a little difficult to focus on anything other than the fact that had just actually revealed to him that she was indeed pregnant — blood test or not, it was hard to ignore three positive tests and the feeling that this was very much real. Suddenly from that point, Naomi felt her throat begin to close and she had to swallow hard to get herself to calm down, attempting to remain neutral while she waited his reaction. Would be be furious? They weren't together. Oh God, what if he thought she trapped him? Her nose scrunched at that. Would he be happy? Over the moon? A little sad? Children had always been included in their plan, but a couple actually together and a marriage certificate framed on their hall of their home was supposed to come first. Not at least four years of constant back and forth, with other people in between and a little bit of heartache. "No, it was just kind of... random. To humor Amy, to answer questions, and yet..." Michael's face was a bit hard to read as she revealed the news — was that a smile, or was she just being hopeful? Then he repeated her words, and kissed her, and she swore up and down she wasn't entirely breathing at that point.  She sucked in a sharp breath of air through her nose when her chin jutted forward and returned the kiss, unable to help but mumble into his mouth. "You're not upset?"

Unable to help himself, the emotion hadn't hit him yet of the news, but Michael was in a state of some shock. It was an elated feeling so he pressed his lips a few more times in longer lingering kisses before mumbling out an answer. "Upset with whom?" One more kiss. "You?" With that he shook his head as he leaned back a bit, feeling the need to look Naomi in the eyes. "I couldn't be upset with you, especially not over a child." He licked his lips, and his gaze found her belly — or rather, where the bump would eventually be once this pregnancy was confirmed the next day and in a few months of growth. "I've always wanted kids," he mentioned, soon after lifting his eyes to meet her chocolate hues. "We have. We used to talk about it, remember?" Something in Michael told him this situation was much harder for Naomi than it was for him. He was afraid to ask the first question because of the fear of offending her over it, but the retired Marine needed to know with certainty that she former fiancé was keeping the baby.  They weren't together and he wasn't sure despite their recent connections if she still ever thought of them being together anymore. He was sure though, he wanted that baby and he wanted it's mother, there wasn't even a hesitation in the thought. "Can we schedule the appointment in the morning and I take you? I know you well enough that I don't believe I have to ask if you're keeping this baby once confirmed, so I feel confident in telling you that I'm going to be there for everything. I will take care of you," his head nodded down to her stomach, "and our baby."

A hum escaped her mouth in between the kisses, unable to help herself. There was a sense of comfort of just being with Michael again in whatever way he would allow. Now, with the world weighing down around the two with the worry of the child on the way, it was a bit of relief. A deep breath passed through her nose as he pulled back and fluttered her eyes to look down, collecting herself while she had a moment to breathe. “I didn’t think you would, but I never know.” Her hand reached up and slipped over his before her chin jutted forward to brush over his mouth with her lips, stealing another kiss. She actually couldn’t help the way her eyes teared with the emotions that bubbled up within her. “We talked about it when we had a ring on my finger. Not with people between us and when I’m not sure if I have the right to call you mine.” Naomi couldn’t help if, swallowing thickly before glancing down. Even after her birthday, even after the easy way she went and kissed him again, she still wasn’t sure where his heart could have been. Sucking in a deep breath, Naomi straightener her posture and slipped her finger over her cheek to swipe a tear, laughing. “Yeah. Yes. You can. I’d like that.” Her hand moved toward his cheek, then leaned forward to press her lips to her cheek again. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

When Naomi returned her lips to his for another kiss, he welcomed the affection and the need and returned it in kind. Seeing that she was emotional no doubt had an effect on the retired Marine and there was a gentle kneading of his thumb on the inside of her palm. A small smile curled one side of his mouth just a little, "you always have the right to call me yours. Do you really think there's been anyone else?" Given it had only been a little more than a year since their last try at a relationship, he supposed it was enough time for her to start anew with someone, but Michael had been sent on an op and when he returned there had been a lot to personally work on. Then there was school. She couldn't have known but it still made him wonder nonetheless.  Once she wiped the tear from her cheek he took her hand and brought those small digits to his lips and pressed them to. Michael gently reached out and smoothed the pad of his thumb across her cheekbones. "I don't know what you've got going on in your life in that regard, Naomi. I figure you wouldn't have been with me on your birthday if you had someone else, but I don't want to be presumptuous on your life. All I know is that I'm here," he paused and kissed her fingers again, "and I'll always be here. This is us, this baby." He was actually feeling a bit emotional, a child was something he had longed for and suddenly it was a real thing with the woman he had made those plans with. "Good," Michael confirmed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He took her chin with his free hand and turned her head to show some tenderness to her lips once again. "We're doing it. How do you feel?"

The kisses were enough to lull her into a complete distraction and to calm the butterflies in her stomach, temporarily forgetting that she was dealing with a life changing event here. They were merely two people sitting on a swing in her backyard after a glow of a wedding, snuggling up together while they could. Yet again, this was a shining example of how natural it was to fall back in a routine with Michael. “I don’t know, Mike. There could have been. Was there?” Her chin ducked momentarily. She didn’t know, she wouldn’t have imagined he would have much time for others... but if he had taken a page out of her own book, he would have been jumping in feet first in whatever he could see fitting. Turning her head, Naomi exhaled a deep breath and leaned into his touch before her lips would turn and press against his palm, then turning to look back up at him. Her large eyes already shined wide with both the emotional tears that threatened to spill over, but this time sparkled with a bit of bliss at his response. “God, I’ve tried. Last summer, but it hasn’t...” She actually shook her head this time, as she then leaned back toward him to press her forehead down into his shoulder, exhaling a deep breath. “They’re never you.” She whispered into his shirt, though ended up rising her head again when his arm snakes around her. He was showering her with ample amounts of affection at that point, where Naomi couldn’t help but melt into. “I just don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything because of this... a baby.” She wanted him, but she wanted him in the right way. A third time wasn’t a charm when it was forced with a hiccup down the road. Him holding her chin had her leaning forward to kiss him again, unable to help but control the way her lips parted when she did so. “Terrified.” She mumbled there quietly, allowing the emotions to actually get to her at this point. She was definitely crying, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. “But amazing. It’s a baby.”

“I’ve been on a date,” he answered her. Yep, just one whole date since they had broken up last and each were maybe expected to move on. Michael never had been good with the letting go, especially when it came to the women in his life. In many ways the retired Marine wasn’t a hardened man, not even by his years at war, but it softened him to think of his mother and how happy a grandchild would make her. Sure, she already had a few by his older brothers, but his relationship with her was unique. They were closely bonded and so similar, and her death was the first time his heart truly broke. Michael still felt the pain of her loss, it gave him complete understanding to how Naomi losing her father was such a changing experience. Now they had a baby and a life on the way, now maybe it meant the future they had once planned on might come to fruition after all. “I haven’t really had time, nor desire to really get out there,” the blond man confessed. “Kind of hard to do when there’s only one Naomi Owens in the world.” It was some kind of echo to the words she herself spoke. Something that both warmed his heart but that also resonated deeply with him. Anyone woman he met, no matter how beautiful or tempting, they weren’t her. “I don’t blame you for trying but... and I feel a little bad for saying this,” he paused and his sapphire gaze met her vibrant hazelnut hues, “I’m glad nothing else worked out.” It truly felt like a shitty thing to say but despite that there was no guilt on his part for expressing that to Naomi. His head bobbed in a slow nod, accepting her words and sitting there in some silence while it seemed to be a show of him thinking it over. It was false. There was nothing to think over.“I think you know as well as I do that this baby of ours that’s now growing inside of you was made of love. I don’t know if having a baby means you wanting to try with me again, and I don’t want you making any rash decisions on that, but...” Michael accepted her kiss and held onto her lips. He kissed her back longer and deeper, he too was overwhelmed with emotion and a suddenly different future ahead of him than the one he had planned. Michael was happy and excited. “I’m here. You have me if you want me. I love you and no time or distance or obstacle is gonna change that.” His large hand brushed her brunette stands back and he nodded. It was scary with the sudden change, and Michael pulled her to him when she began to cry. “We’re gonna have a baby.” He then chuckled. “I hope to god it’s a boy and doesn’t look anything like you,” the man joked. The thought of having a mini me Naomi gave Michael heart palpitations.

She couldn’t help that twinge of jealousy in her stomach even if it wasn’t that warranted. It was one date. One stupid date, when she technically had gone further with someone he knew... but Naomi was Naomi, she had that dramatic flare. “One date means she wasn’t the one for the next.” Did she have much to worry about? She did have the baby on the way, anyway. Michael never had much of an issue in tending to her fears, however, as every single worry that could have filled her head was eased with his words. There’s  only one Naomi Owens. “You stole my line, you know.” She let out a shaky breath, attempting to keep her emotions in check, though the tears in her eyes had threatened to betray her. This was the life they planned from the beginning. From when they were a bit younger, meeting on a whim on her college campus... she had always yearned to be here with Michael, and now it all seemed to become more of a promise to become a reality. A magical man that made her world turn upside down, a job she adored and now a baby. Even when it was mere hours after coming to the realization after a total surprise it had never managed to leave. She didn’t want to jump right in without thinking, nor did she want to get ahead of herself, but with the way her heart pounded in her chest while he stole kisses and spoke about the love that created a baby.... well, it was hard not to. That love once was supposed to be past tense, but it never quite disappeared. She wasn’t sure it ever would.“We won’t make any rash decisions. We won’t. Because I know if you keep kissing me like that, I’m not going to be able to stop...” The brunette breathed into his mouth half way through the kiss that left her breathless — unsure if it was due to the fact that his affection knocked the wind out of her, or the fact that there was a little human now growing inside of her. Her chin slowly turned and her nose brushed against Michael’s in what was considered a Eskimo kiss. “You love me,” She trailed off happily with her eyes closed, though smiled as she did so. “And I love you, and I want to try.” She breathed out, hoping that covered every base she needed. She did want to try, in every sense of the word. As he pulled her back in, Naomi actually took a moment to let the tears fall. A happy cry more or less, but the damp tears stained her cheeks and she leaned her body into his chest momentarily. “We’re having a baby.” She repeated. “It’s kinda crazy, you know? Please... A little girl would be magical.” Her lips curled into a half smile, and she wiped the smudge that came with her mascara. “You know it’s the size of a blueberry right now? I looked it up.”

Michael knew mentioning having been on a date wasn't exactly the best thing for an ex to hear, much less a former fiancé whom he had tried very hard to have a complete life with. Naomi could be jealous, even if she had no reason to ever be, it was human nature, and it was a reaction and emotion that Michael understood. His distance from her since they called it quits again just over a year ago made the man jealous of everything that got a piece of her these days.... the sun, the wind, anyone who was gifted a smile, the kids who got to see her passion in her element of music and teaching, and the friends that got to hear the ins and outs of her life. All things he still wanted and missed, but he hoped the magic words of there's only one Naomi Owens let her know she had nothing to worry about. Only one woman had him and his heart and that was her, curled up in his side and growing their baby inside of her. He knew better to ask if she had seen or been with anyone since they had been broken up, Michael didn't want to do that to himself, and ultimately he knew it was unfair. "Yeah, there's no next, Nomes. I've been trying and not very well to let you move on with your life but... personally I'm still stuck on you. The one date I had, well, shamefully she looked very similar to you." He wanted it out in the open now, rather than Naomi finding these things out later and possibly being hurt by them. Michael was always the full disclosure type, and honest. "I didn't steal it," he smiled a bit, "I just borrowed it. I feel like I had to remind ya." The smile on his lips remained as it hit him that although they couldn't work things out on their own, the universe clearly wanted them together. Which was what Michael had always felt since the moment he had met Naomi at her college — they were supposed to be together. He kissed her again. "Maybe I don't want you to stop," he mumbled against her lips, then another kiss. The blond nodded and sighed inwardly, content and feeling the bliss of their affections. "I do love you, and you love me," he repeated selfishly for how the words lifted him, "so let's try. But it's gonna work... I'm not going to make the same mistakes I made before." Naomi was pulled into his side and he held his girl like he always had in the past, his fingers met her damp cheekbones and gently smoothed the tears away. He himself felt emotional, he was finally going to have a child and family, and it was with Naomi. Life suddenly felt right again, the world had turned back on it's axis and wondrously he wasn't so lost anymore. There was something to really live for. "A little crazy," he chuckled softly, " we're doing things a little out of order but that's alright." The thought of having a girl scared him, as he imagined many father's felt. "I'd love any child we have, but a daughter would just mean you and her teaming up against me. A blueberry huh? " Using his thumb and index he measured the approximate size and stared at it for a few moments. "My oatmeal is never gonna be the same..."

This was real. This was actually happening. Naomi had to keep her eyes fluttered closed for a moment to actually take it all in, as most of this would be something she would pinch herself over. Having a family with a man who was made of pure magic had always been something Naomi dreamed of... in fact, she started dreaming of it more often when she met Michael on a whim at UNC, and that didn’t exactly falter even when they had broken up twice. He was the person she got far enough to picture her life molding together with — while she had tried elsewhere, tried desperately to find the warm love she had found with Michael, it all seemed to fall at her feet. She tried too hard every single time, and that should have told her something. When it came so effortless, it was worth holding onto.  “Looked like me?” Naomi asked, her brow arching. She couldn’t help but let her mind race to picture every single woman she knew in Wilmington who could even remotely resemble her, but most of those were her friends. She didn’t think they would go that far. Her shoulders squared, looking up at him through thick lashes, and she shrugged. “Nothing beats the real deal.” That was a little cocky, but she couldn’t help herself this time around. A half smile spread across her lips though at the little comment he made. He could steal her lines if it meant her heart continuing to hammer that hard.Tilting her chin forward, Naomi couldn’t entirely help herself when she went in and kissed him again when he practically prompted her, though this time moving her hand up to curl around the side of his neck. “Because you missed me?” She murmured against his lips, while her kiss eventually moved to his jaw, and the hand that was on his neck had slipped beneath the collar of his white shirt and over the skin of his collarbone. A laugh escaped her mouth when she was pressed into his skin and her body was pulled in closer, nodding some. “This time is different. It’s not just the baby. It feels different. You feel different.” She said. “But that’s not a bad thing. You seem more yourself.” Her lips moved up his jaw to the sensitive space just below his ear, whispering. “I missed that.” With her brown hair that had fallen free from the clip hiding her face, Naomi pulled back and smiled at him. “Apparently. I can’t even wrap my head around something being that small.” Another laugh bubbled over into his neck, as her lips moved around to the front of his adam’s apple. “I think it’s kind of amazing...”

"You know... brunette, dark eyes, beautiful cheekbones..." He was supposed to be describing what he meant by saying that the woman looked like her, and instead was really just listing off Naomi's features. "Cute little nose," Michael bopped it lightly with his finger then. "And lips that hold my most favorite smile in the world," he paused then and smirked slightly, "well, at least until our little one is born. Then, I'm sorry, you're taking a backseat, Mama." The blond man winked at her and leaned in to soothe his joking, which probably came at the wrong time, with a few kisses to her ear and curve of her neck. "Nothing memorable though. I think she cared more about sex than anything else, and you know me." Mike had never been the one night stand kind of guy, he always craved connection and if he was going to share himself he didn't want it to be just once. "Nothing beats the real deal," the retired Marine confirmed, "not that there's ever been a chance for anyone else in my heart." It seemed that Michael had been so dedicated to the one that he never gave anything else a chance, which considering that he and Naomi were virtually back together for a third time now it wasn't a bad thing, but once he had set on her back when they started dating so many years ago there was no room in his heart for anyone else. It made him smile in that respect that he was just like his father — the man had married his college sweetheart and they ended up having five children together and Michael couldn't even remember a fight between the two of them. And to his father's credit, the man had never moved on even after his mother lost her battle with cancer so many years ago. Michael had always wanted that kind of love, it was his ideal and it was hitting him now that he had it all along, he carried it within him for Naomi Owens. You seem more yourself. It was true, given his departure from the Marine Corps he was finding his old self again, the man he was for Naomi before they both veered in different directions due to life's curve balls. There was still a lot for Michael to address, but he was feeling strong and more capable of managing it. "I missed it too," he confessed and and breathed in deep as her lips teased him. "I'm sorry I lost my way for so long. I should have been there for you," Michael murmured and cupped her jaw in his large hand, peering into those deep and expressive eyes. "Enjoy it while it's small, babe. It's the most amazing thing in the world, and I'm not really ashamed for going a little hard on your birthday then," he chuckled softly. The whole thing made him feel lighter, happier. He had Naomi and he had a baby with her on the way. When he couldn't take anymore of her teasing he pulled the petite woman onto his lap and cradled the side of her neck with his hand as he brought her in for another kiss. His other hand reached up and freed her tresses from the pins holding it up, letting it's length unwrap and cascade down past her shoulders. Michael liked to be able to run his fingers through it. "I'm half tempted to lift your skirt up right here in your mama's back yard...."

“Close, but seems like a drug store copy.” Naomi couldn’t help but let out a half hearted laugh, even if it was a little critical of her. He had done a good job at soothing her worries though. Her mind was racing a mile a minute over the possibility of another woman who even remotely resembled her filling in her role in his life, he still seemed to be dead set on her... that was much more than what she could say for plenty of others who had came and gone in her life, which had her feeling much better about the whole ordeal than anything. The only one she would be even remotely happy to share the spotlight with was their little one, the one he mentioned, and she wasn’t entirely surprised when he threw that one in there. “Yeah, yeah, I know. God forbid it’s a girl, and she reminds me everyday how she stole my man.” Her head shook and tilted to the side when his lips trailed over the side of her neck this time, the feeling alone letting goosebumps rise on her skin. As Naomi liked to pride herself on knowing Michael rather well, she wasn’t so surprised to learn that the date hadn’t worked out for many reasons. “You never were. I would like to think I would know, I mean, I did win you over in favor of my roommate back in the day... You know, the one who wanted to jump your bones?” Naturally, her two large hazel hues dropped down to the chest that was only peeking beneath a bulging button and a tie where his heart beat — that was hers, in every sense of the word, even if the two tried to let it beat elsewhere. It all seemed a little silly now, what was the point? It seemed like now it was all a bit of wasted time. She knew from the moment she met him he was placed on this planet for her, that little line straight out of her vows she had stored away years ago, but even now that hadn’t changed. Nothing changed, even when she tried to make it happen.

Her head shook into the kiss as he apologized. “We all get a little lost sometimes.” Before she was bitter, she was the first person to admit so, but Naomi knew that they wouldn’t have gotten to the point of where they were today if they hadn’t had to endure every hurdle life threw at them. That included his distance while he was stationed away from their home, their first break up, her grieving her father alone, him grieving his mother alone, and the foundation cracking when they jumped in a second time around a year prior. She fully believed that the world worked wonders if you let it work it’s magic, and now she was landed back in his arms with a baby. “You’re back now.” She breathed, one hand moving to stroke her thumb across his jaw. Lips perked up in a smile, she ducked her head when he stared back down at her. “A little hard? You mean the three rounds to guarantee a blueberry?” Her words caused he to laugh, though when he pulled her over, Naomi hadn’t wasted time in adjusting her weight so that either knee was snug against the side of his waist, hands moving down the side of his neck. Her chin had tilted forward and her lips meshed in well with Michael’s, deepening the kiss in the midst of the brown hair cascading down her back. The dress she wore was ironically perfect for the position they were in, as the wrapped cloth had rode up her thigh, and she playfully moved to let the slit that exposed her left leg be pulled back entirely. “Half tempted?” She asked, leaning forward again so the hair fell over her shoulder, while her hands moved down to his hips, curling around the button there. 

“Not even a copy,” he smiled a little, “just something similar but not remotely the same.” The jealousy and insecurity that seemed to gnaw at her a little, judging by her comments, were understandable. Michael wanted to ask how she had tried to move on but knew better of himself to actually get the question out. He wasn’t a jealous or insecure man in the slightest, it would simply wear at him though all the curiosities. Clearly they were both sitting there closely together with a baby between them now so neither had really made strides in the mission of moving on. Michael hadn’t truly wanted to though, but what of Naomi? Had she really wanted to? How hard did she try to replace him in her life? Questions he’d never ask and that would never even touch the trusted ears of a friend because Michael kept everything close to the chest. It was another burden he’d carry, and again in this case it was better for his shoulders bear it than hers. “You seriously wouldn’t compete with your own daughter over daddy’s love and attention would ya?” Michael winked at Naomi then smiled at his work, the way her skin displayed goosebumps under his lips and hot breath. “Oh, I remember, but I don’t really remember much about her.” It had been pretty obvious as soon as he and the brunette beside him caught each other’s eyes that it was all signed, sealed, and delivered. From then on there just seemed to be a gravitational pull between them. He pressed a kiss to her collarbone and breathed in her sweet scent, finally feeling a future and possibilities opening up. Lost seemed an understatement, but that was due to the fact that she didn’t know the current state of his emotional well being. No one did, it was what he was holding so tight to his chest, and not something he intended to keep buried forever but something he would find a way to move past. Michael was already feeling better about life and his new place in life would only push him to do better and take care of himself better. Now he was going to have a baby to watch grow up, and Naomi be the most beautiful mother. He felt so incredibly fortunate. “That I am,” he commented with a gentle nod of his head. “Well, the first round didn’t really do much of anything to secure a blueberry,” Mike chuckled, vividly remembering his head between her thighs. His strong hands settled on her hips, fingertips digging in just a little as he gripped her and held her atop his lap. His sapphire hues burned into her deep hazel, only shutting when she leaned in and crashed her lips against his. The kiss was deep, passionate, and his mouth opened up to slip his tongue into hers. “Half tempted,” he repeated, challenging, though his voice was suddenly a little more gravelly. His palm travel down the bare skin of her exposed thigh but captured that fabric at her hips and tugged it up further, and his gaze turned down to catch sight of the fabric covering her sex. His digits soon swept between her thighs and stroked over her covered folds, thumb pressing down the center, teasing at first then finding her clit and adding a little pressure. While he loved foreplay, it was hard for Michael to be patient in this moment and he soon brushed her underwear aside to stroke her nectar coated lips and ease two fingers into her core with a groan vibrating in his throat at the squeezing wet warmth around his fingers.

Not even a copy. Naomi couldn’t help but smile at that one. She never once battled much with self esteem issues — she knew what she had to offer, she knew she was a catch and she knew that she was bound to be the best partner she could be, but that hadn’t meant that Michael reassuring her that no one seemed to compare hadn’t meant something to her. She was jealous, a little bitter, even if it wasn’t her place to be. At least he was being honest with what happened in the past, which was something she also would do if he needed the details. She did, though, as always. Then again, it was yet another shining example of Michael knowing her better than most, and knowing what she needed to hear in order to be reassured with herself. “Maybe? I’ll deal, of course, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be a little jealous. You’re my guy.” Naomi’s fingertips grazed over the top of his shoulder as she remained close to him, her lips actually grazing over his mouth as she spoke. If anyone knew how territorial and a bit dramatic she could get, it was Michael, as the mention of her former roommate in college had done the trick — she stole his attention, and she intended to keep it that way. She couldn’t really bring herself to mouth a response when Michael’s lips had came down to her collarbone and his warm breath distracted her, bringing her hand to slide from his shoulder to his neck again, exhaling a deep breath.

He seemed a little deep in his thoughts for a brief moment, twisting her wrist around to slip her fingertips over the back of his neck, then slipped the digits up the back of his head to tickle scratch his scalp. “I’m glad you are.” She confirmed with a softer smile, her nose brushing against his and her mouth grazing his again with how close they were. They remained connected, and Naomi couldn’t exactly get enough of the man before her. She really did miss him while he was away, perhaps that was a big reason why their relationship had suffered through the rocks, but God she missed him. “It’s always better when you’re here.” The brunette confirmed again and her fingertips moved down to the front of his chest, where the loosened collar was readily available for her ( since his jacket was now slipping off her own shoulders ) and dipped down to feet his skin. Her cheeks flushed, shaking her head. “Oh my God,” She blushed once again. “You’re so bad.” Naomi giggled, this time tilting her chin forward to crash her lips back on into his. At that point in time, it didn’t even matter that they were still in the backyard of her childhood home way past dusk. Emotions were high, and she wanted nothing more than to reconnect with him in more ways than one. Shaky fingers had only gotten to unbutton the clasp of his slacks before Michael’s fingers were back inside her and the chiffon pale dress had been bundled at her hips, eliciting a low throaty moan to escape her mouth. “I’m fully tempted,” Naomi whimpered again into his mouth, her fingers moving to grasp onto the side of his neck, mouth parting to greet his tongue. As noisy as she was, Naomi couldn’t help but moan again, rocking her hips on forward to ride the two fingers. “I want you.” The brunette whispered as her mouth drug down his stubbled chin, feeling her hips flex and her walls flutter to the touch around him, before her right hand had hastily tugged on the buttons of his shirt. “Please, baby.”

“I’m your guy, yes,” Michael chuckled softly, an easy and content sound. “But I’ll be this one’s father,” he added with his hand smoothing over where the baby would soon be giving Naomi a bump. “You’ve never had anything to be jealous of.” It was understood though, the facts of the brunette teasing him with her lips and touches were well known. Territorial behavior was a natural thing where Michael was concerned, and something openly accepted because he too could be very much the same way. They differed though in how it was expressed. Naomi could be dramatic and Michael could feel a need to be assertive, and thankfully neither of them really pushed those boundaries and limits. It was his responsibility as her man to make sure she always felt secure, and likewise, that was his view on how this all worked. They each teased each other’s flesh with their lips, but when the retired Marine came up for air from her collarbones and the little dip between he kissed her then pulled back to make eye contact with her. He held Naomi’s jaw in his hand and peered into her hazel hues. “What do you think about making a third go of this? There’s nothing to pull us apart this time...” “Well... I’m never leaving again, I promise you that. And things are different now.” Which was true, they definitely were, given that he didn’t have active duty to drag him away at a moments notice if they deemed his particular services needed for whatever mission. They never again had to suffer through low quality Skype calls that often failed, or long absences empty with no contact, and for that along with the blueberry their future looked better and more possible than it ever had. Michael was tired of missing her. “Mmm,” he hummed at the feel of her fingers touching the top of his chest where his opened top button revealed a bit of warm flesh. Noticing his jacket sliding off her shoulders, Mike took it and placed it aside and worried for a brief moment of Naomi getting cold but then figured he’d keep her plenty warm. The blond smirked at her reaction. “Look at those rosy cheeks,” he teased, though was pleased he still had that effect on her. Michael hummed even deeper, the sound vibrating against her lips when she kissed him hard and he was unable to keep his hands off of her any longer. He almost didn’t need to move his fingers with the way her hips began rocking on his digits, but he diligently pumped them in and out of her core and twisted his wrist and curled his fingers inside of her a little. The more she rode him though the more jealous he became of his own fingers. His cock wasn’t just throbbing, it was aching with the need to fill her. It had been more than a month since he was home inside of her and he could hardly stand it. “Fuck,” Michael grunted, “hold onto me.” As soon as he felt her hands digging into his shoulders, he released his grip on her hip so that he could pull his tucked shirt free and let down his pants. Reluctantly he withdrew his fingers, smirking at the saturated feel of her arousal on them, and lifted her at the hips so he could align his cock with her entrance then groaned deeply as he slowly let her down on his thick length. “God, Naomi...” Michael muttered and returned his hands to her hips to guide her movements.

All coherent thoughts on responding to him went out the window when he made such a proposition to her. No, it didn’t matter if her heart skipped a beat over him labeling himself as a father to their growing child, because Naomi was back in his lap and kissing on him and listening to him wanting to try again and she wasn’t even sure it was real. Something got caught in her throat that stalled her response. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she told him — they had already been dancing around a dangerous line of blurring their history together, but a child didn’t have to mean they needed to get back together. A roll around in the sheets didn’t mean such, either. That didn’t mean that Naomi’s lips hadn’t naturally curled into a smile when he asked and she immediately felt the need to kiss him silly when he did. His hand was over her stomach, he was making promises of sticking around... so she leaned in and kissed him hard. She really kissed him, where she stalled all movements and gripped the collar of his shirt like she had nothing else to hold onto. “Third times a charm, isn’t it?” Naomi mumbled against his lips, nose nestled against Michael’s. “to hell with it.” Another whisper. “Baby, I want to.” She slipped her arms around his neck again, fingers curling into his blonde locks as her head tilted. “I love you, Michael.”

Her hands slipped from his chest to his neck and she kissed him again, almost like second hand nature at that point. There was very little she could do when all she wanted was to be close with him again, and her body was practically aching for it with nothing more than his fingers inside her, and his words causing her heart to hammer. At this rate she really needed to find a way to get him up to her bedroom with no interruptions, but now she just couldn’t help it. She needed him in more ways than one, and getting up from the bench in the yard was no longer an option — at least for now. “Shh,” Naomi moaned when he pointed out her cheekbone color, fluttering her lashes. She had heard that once or twice, knowing he got a kick out of making her blush. Now that the jacket was taken off, her shoulders were more exposed and her hair fell over them, though the dip in the cleavage of her dress flared a bit when her body moved to rock over his fingers. Little moans escaped her mouth at every twist and turn he made, causing his fingers to beckon inside her. He always was so good at that, he always knew what her body would beg for before she even did. Except this time she was impatient, and with how high emotions were, she wanted nothing more than to be close to Michael in every way she knew how. “G-God,” Naomi whined a bit as her hips staggered and her hand gripped his thigh for support, growing flush at the sensation. It felt like the heavens, but God, she wanted so much more.

Within seconds, the bliss of having her man back inside her after the month alone had brought a loud whimper and a fluttering of her lashes. It wasn’t new by any means, but each and every time the pair connected in such an intimate way, Naomi couldn’t help but squirm in delight. The feeling alone washed over her completely, her jaw slacking a bit in bliss while her fingers continued to grip onto his shoulder like she was instructed. How he managed to lift her where he wanted promoted another moan from her, incredibly turned on with every single thing he did. “You feel so good.” Naomi’s hips immediately rolled forward once she had settled down snug on top of him, her knees back to the sides of his hips, and she had gotten used to the pressure that came with him being back inside her. Head tilted, with tips of her loosened hair brushing his knees, her body rolled once more. “You always do...” she moaned out, dropping her hand down to grip his thigh. Her lips parted as her hazel orbs connected with his beautiful sapphires, unable to help but moan once more.

For Michael the news of Naomi possibly being pregnant only hit a bit of a fast forward button on where he saw them heading. There was no one else that had his interest, even slightly, even more so he hadn’t wanted to look elsewhere despite trying to do so for her sake. From her birthday to Valentines Day, then this wedding they’d just gone too, well the blond didn’t need much more of that to know things were coming to a head. Time apart showed that they could live without each other, but the thing was that Michael didn’t want to and he was tired of acting like he was nothing more than a friendly ex anytime he saw her about town or became remotely close to anyone that knew her and his history. The intentions had been pure, but as anyone knew, the road to hell was paved with good intentions. It was also the wedding that made Michael realize that he needed to stop lying to himself, and he needed to take that shot to find out once and for all if there was a possibility for them again. He leaned into the kiss and returned her energy and passion just as strong, kissing her hard and the grip on her hips moving up her sides. Soon he was holding her precious face in his hands as their mouths worked together. “I love you, baby,” he returned then kissed her lips a few times then planted many along her jaw and against her neck. His face nuzzled into her hair and his strong arms hugged her dearly to him. “Mine.” “Cum,” Michael instructed, wanting her to let loose on his fingers as she rocked and he simultaneously pumped into her core. His voice was low and almost hoarse with the amount of desire that flowed through his veins for this woman. Thumb pressed to her clit again, he added pressure and rubbed in circles only to abruptly stop and move in the other direction. His lips brushed hers with kisses and his teeth nibbled her when he had to let her pant and breathe. Michael sucked on her neck when he found that rough patch of skin and stroked her g-spot. The man was seeking out that initial release from her, as always they weren’t going the night without making her cum at least a few times. He brushed her hair back off her shoulders and felt emotion well in his chest, his heart pounding over not just trying again with Naomi but the determination to not fail this time and to be blessed with a baby growing inside of her. Hand moving down from her shoulder, he cupped and kneaded her breast, trying to be gentle unsure if she was tender. His head dipped and his face buried into her cleavage, kissing and sucking on her supple flesh and soft moans rumbling lowly in his throat. “You’re so beautiful,” he told her just as his head lifted to steal her lips in another kiss. Michael wanted her out of the dress and completely naked so that he could enjoy her body to the fullest, both visually and physically, but he wasn’t about to bare her in the backyard of her childhood home. “Come on, baby, cum for me,” the retired Marine murmured, fingers brushing her g-spot and thumb teasing her clit.

The groan her tight wet heat so snuggly clinging to his cock elicited was deep and guttural. He was speechless for a few moments as his length reached her depths, his girth stretching and pushing against her walls. “God damn, Naomi,” he finally groaned out, resisting the ache in his balls to just pound into her and unload. No, Michael wanted to take his time with her, as always, no matter how crazy the woman made him for her. His hands squeezed firmly at her hips, picking up pace in rocking her on his shaft and lifting her some, unable to keep his own hips still despite being beneath her. Michael was limited but it didn’t stop the man from flexing his hips and pushing deeper into her every time he’d lower her with each forward rock. She was moaning and he was beginning to join her in what was becoming a chorus of pleasure in her backyard. His hands moved under the hem of her dress and a thumb returned to toy with her clit and the other reached around her to grab a handful of her ass. “Do I need to be careful with this dress too?” A smirk was on his cocky lips.

It was all happening. It seemed as soon as she revealed one little thing, everything else fell into place right afterwards. Sure, they were going about this a bit backwards. Their history was messy and things would need to be formally addressed come another day where her head wasn’t in the clouds... but this was it, this was happening. The universe seemed to always have a way to making things up for her as she went, but for once, she couldn’t help but feel like she was finally on the path of being on the right direction. A baby was a blessing, but with a man who she knew was ready to make every single dream she had come true... well, that was the life every single young girl dreamed of. She couldn’t help the cheesy way she smiled and let her mouth part into the kiss, his declaration of love always causing her heart to swell in her chest. “I’ve always been yours.” She whispered. “Even when we were pretending, baby, it’s always been you.”

Emotions were really high, but the simple fact of the matter was that she now was pretty much speechless. Michael always has a knack for completely shutting her up when it came to being intimate, becoming nothing more than a moaning mess of flushed cheeks and stutters of need. Now, with those thick digits, it was enough for her hips to rock forward in an attempt to get herself off with every movement he made. She moved again, only finding the brief moment of neglect before he was right back where she needed him most. This. God. This was always so much better. Every word he spoke, every move he made... Michael literally was the guy she bragged about. He knew exactly what he was doing. Naomi took account that they still were in her backyard of her childhood home, but given the hour, she had known the ins and outs of her house and that her mother was well away tucked in her own bedroom. The lights were dim and they were very much alone. Arching her back, Naomi then adjusted the cleavage of her top again and slipped her hand around the back of his neck, her lips brushing over his forehead. “Touch me,” Naomi moaned as her head ducked to breathe into his ear. “Baby.”

There was a brief moment where she took to get used to the feeling of him being inside of her all over again before she could settle down on his lap, turning her focus on him completely. His moans were music to her ears, finding the way he could grow louder incredibly sexy despite their limited resources. “Mm?” Naomi reached up and pushed her hair back, finding a smirk on her lips, enjoying the taunting as she got into it. For once, she was back with having the upper hand, and the brunette moved forward to lean into him. “You missed me, didn’t you?” She whispered as she hovered over his mouth, the entire time letting her hips rock forward. Every single movement she made allowed her walls to flutter and adjust to the feeling of his large member filling her up completely, catching the air in her throat. By that time she had reached around and grabbed onto the back of the bench while her other moved around his neck, spreading her legs to grind down against him. She moaned loudly into his ear when he touched her again, this time forcing her to bounce once or twice on his cock. “God, no.” Naomi whined into his ear before reaching around to pull the buttons open on his shirt. She didn’t entirely care much of the temperature of the February air — but that point she was hot enough, and wanted to see more skin. “I don’t care about it.” She licked her lips and bounced her hips again, reaching behind her to grasp onto his knee, her body stretched as she leaned back, giving him ample visions of her half exposed body.

Sometimes that was what it took, something to knock everything else into place. It seemed they had been going in circles and trying to find answers and meanings to things rather than just saying fuck it and being together. The news of Naomi being with child, his child, Michael had that epiphany and wanted to get off the merry-go-round. He was exhausted of trying to give a woman he loved space so she could move on with her life without him. It was the last thing he wanted; for her to be without him, for her to move on and be with someone else. Michael had been in love with her for so long that there was no way there was room for anyone else in his heart, and beyond that the blond man was selfish, he didn’t want to give her the room to have someone else in her heart. He craved that future with her that they had once planned and got so close to starting. Now a baby was created from their inability to abstain from each other and while it wasn’t the plan, it was the gift that gave in more ways that one. They were exchanging those three magical words and he had her in his arms, Naomi was his again, and the world finally started to right on it’s axis. “You’ve have,” he confirmed, heart thudding at her confession. “I think it’s been clear for me too,” his voice was a couple octaves deeper, lust and emotion caught up in his throat, “I was never able to let you go and it feels better than I know how to express to have you back, baby.”

As it was with most men, Michael was very physical and thoroughly enjoyed sex. With Naomi though the act always elevated to a higher echelon. The way their bodies connected and worked together, their passions aligned and he knew every little thing that made her tic, and she of course knew him that well in return. He would hear stories of other men and how they’d get bored of sex with their partners, usually the wives or girlfriends they’d been with for significant amounts of time, and he felt sorry for them. The connectivity he shared with the petite brunette rocking her hips on his fingers was exalted and no other woman could compare to the way she made his heart pound and his blood rush. While he was aware of their location, Michael really didn’t care much if they got caught, they were two adults that now had a baby on the way. Not to mention she was his girl once again, finally. His digits curled and stroked, massaged her spongy walls as he pumped into while she rode. Sapphire hues kept glancing up from her heaving chest to catch all the reactions and pleasures play across her face while the warmth of her first release pooled down his finger and into his palms. The retired Marine was beyond turned on, cock aching and face buried back into the soft mounds of her chest. “Mmm,” he somewhat hummed and grunted in response to her plea. His chin turned up to snatch her lips in a heated kiss  and his hand reached into the top of her dress to cup and knead her breasts. His fingers rolled and pinched and tugged on her rosy peaks but it wasn’t too much longer before he had two free hands to tear the front of her dress open.

“Of course,” he groaned. The sensation of being buried to the hilt within her core was indescribable and his abdomen clenched with every little movement she made. She was soft, hot, and hugging his shaft so firmly that when she rocked her hips and began to ride him with a bounce Michael let out a loud groan. His large hand moved up her back and his fingers threaded into Naomi’s thick tresses and fisted a hold, taking more control of her movements. She had his two strong arms wrapped around her small body, hugging her and lifting her, working her harder and faster on his lap once he was sure that she was used to his mass inside of her. “How does this feel?”  Michael’s hips grinded and worked some kind of thrust upward, unable to fully match her movements given positioning but he pushed each stroke of his cock into her a little deeper each time. Her lips were practically kissed raw and swollen before his hands moved to her shoulders, releasing her hair but still moving her body at his will. It was his mouth, tongue, and teeth that found her exposed tits then. He sucked on her flesh and moaned against her skin feeling his balls tighten but willing it away. Michael wasn’t ready for this to be over, not yet, not when his teeth were grazing her nipples and pinching them. His lips soothed and tugged on the sensitive nubs. “Fuck you’re beautiful,” he groaned yet again as she leaned back and his mouth was redirected to her sternum and belly. His hands smoothed down her sides, holding her hips firmly once again, grinding her onto him before he snaked his right arm around her lower back so his left hand could dip to where the wet sounds of their lovemaking was coming from. He toyed with her clit at first, flicking the soaked exposed bud then pinching lightly and tugging on her wanting to make her scream.

Just like any other woman with a romantic heart, the knowledge of Michael’s love for her had been enough to completely feel the organ hammering hard within her chest. She was certain it was ready to soar right on out onto the ground, in between his little confession, the emotions over their growing child, and practically making love all over again in the brisk February air... it was a lot to take in all at once. She would have been overwhelmed if she hadn’t had something else to focus on. But in a sense, it was the perfect mixture of matter that she hadn’t realized she had been missing. No longer had she had to wander around aimlessly searching for something she already had — she didn’t have to force something that wasn’t meant for any longer. No, she had him. He was her’s, she was his. She could hardly describe how good that felt. Somewhere in between the lust of their actions, and the heat that swarmed her body, Naomi had brought her hand up to the side of his face so her thumb could carefully swipe over his stubbled jaw, taking in the man before her. Her man, ensuring that he was real. “I love you.” Naomi confessed once more, unsure how many times that evening she was bound to let the three letter sentence slip that evening. She couldn’t help it, either, not with the way he was completely swarming her every last nerve ending in her entire body. Both her physical touch, and her emotions.

Her words had been muffled since half way through, hanging on the you, she leaned back in and stole a kiss. Plump and bruised lips parted in order to deepen the affectionate kiss and slip the tongue along the bottom row of his teeth, practically begging for the entrance only he could grant. Once he had, there was a moan that bubbled from her throat and contrasted over inside his mouth, unable to help herself when she could feel her hips jittering out of pristine pace. That was it — that was the clear sign that it was all too much, and she was falling out of order. The single digits inside her twisted and massaged far enough that Naomi actually came after his command for the first time that evening, leaving behind flushed cheekbones and whimpering noises. Her head tipped back, fingertips moving to grip onto the back of his head, unable to help the low gasp that escaped her mouth. Between the initial shock of the first small orgasm from his hand to the overwhelming feeling of finally connecting their two bodies in the most intimate way one could ever ask for, well, it was safe to say that every single nerve in her entire body was elicited like fire. She was on fire, all because of him. 

A loud moan passed through her lips. “I bet you did. I can feel you did.” Her taunts were pretty obvious, he knew she missed him too, but her ego was fueled enough with knowing he missed her more than anyone. Her heart, as well, but her ego often took over this time around. “Did you think about me?” She breathed into his ear, lips ghosting over the shell. She was practically on full display at that point, both with her wrapped dress peeled from it’s tie around her torso and her body leaned back with a grip on his knees, giving Michael the utmost show with the position she had to deal with. “I missed you touching me.” She whispered and licked her lips, brushing her own hand down over her chest, then forward to pull open another button and touch his exposed stomach. Fuck, he still looked and felt so good. There was nothing covering her any longer, other than the remaining material bunched at her waist with no where else to go. She would have been cold from the evening crisp air, but there was something about the wet and hot kisses Michael’s mouth left against her chest and stomach that warmed her right up.

She didn’t know how he managed to completely overload her senses every single time they connected in this way, but even bouncing up and down on his lap in her backyard he had. It was a mix of both sexy lust fueled by a desire to rip one’s clothes off and an act of lovemaking with a partner she had fallen in love with years prior — how that managed to be was beyond her but made the experience that much more enjoyable. Just like that, Michael knew what he was doing when his mouth parted and left a wet trail from her breast to just above her belly button, while moving that grip from her dark hair to her clit. It tugged on her hair in the process, forcing goosebumps to rise on her skin. She whimpered at the move, her hips jerking forward immediately at the knee jerk reaction. “Jesus, baby—,” Naomi whined out, though her body couldn’t take the torture of her position any longer, immediately shooting forward to wrap her arms around his neck, fingertips biting into the fabric loose on the shoulder blades she had access to, before one moved back to his short hair. He questioned her, and she could only moan a bit in response. “It feels so good, baby. Right there, k-keep... oh my God.” There was a certain way his cock swelled inside her that had her gasping and moaning hotly, the shocking feeling being enough to straighten her back and press her chest forward against his face as it for level, becoming a bit taller in his lap. She bounced down hard on his length before bucking her hips again, whimpering into his ear as her body had jerked, unable to help her movements with the tug he gave to her clit. “Michael!"

She was such a stunningly sensual woman, and Michael’s sapphire gaze was glued to her moonlit features in the backyard of her childhood home. Her small frame swayed and her hips writhed while her swollen lips parted to release shaky moans, all signalling the man that had experienced Naomi in every way that she was close to tipping over the edge. He elongated the thrusts of his doubled digits within her pussy and his wrist strongly emphasized the twist to stroke her quivering walls. While his thumb toyed and manipulated her clit, he did his best to return the wet kiss his woman planted on him. He groaned and panted a little as the muscles in his arm displayed and his veins pressed up against the surface of his skin, signs of his continued ministrations all in the goal of giving this little goddess all the pleasure she desired in the world. Her movements rubbed against the pressure his rock hard cock had created under the zipper of his pants and his lids fluttered every time he got a spark of a reaction, something that sent jolts down the length of his shaft, through his balls, and down his inner thighs. His rigid girth was envious as she finally muttered her three little words that meant everything to him and came on his stroking fingers. “Fuck, baby, I love you too,” he muttered against her mouth, grabbing her chin and pulling her lips to his so he could practically plunge his tongue into her mouth and kiss her so wildly.

Finally buried balls deep within her, hips rolling upward and working to drive his cock deeper within the massaging spongy wet walls of her core, Naomi taunted and teased him. Michael loved it though, and smirked at her while she fueled and riled herself up, enjoying the show as she owned just how fucking sexy she was. He watched and practically salivated as her tits bounced with her movements and his rocking into her. The blond even lowly growled when her hands teased over her own body, the one that Michael had long ago claimed as his own, but again, thoroughly enjoyed the display she offered him. Visually he devoured the beauty, and physically he felt he couldn’t get enough. “How much?” He inquired at her missing his touch, one palm smoothing up from it’s firm grip on her hip over her flat stomach to cup and knead each supple breast. His fingers collected her nipples and gently rolled and squeezed them, his hand moving from each warm mountain of flesh to the other and then back. Michael’s grip on her hip snaked his arm around her lower back as he lowered his mouth to his flesh, unable to resist tasting her. “I missed every fuckin’ bit of you,” he finally gave into her taunts, telling the truth. He wanted them each other of their clothing, wanting his hands all over the body he claimed and vice versa, yet there was something so exhilarating about making love like this in her yard.

Times like this the man wasn’t sure how he existed without the constant access he once had to be inside of her as often as they wanted, but the way she rode him and bucked and bounced, Michael was sure he’d never go without again. One month prior they had spent a whole night making love over and over because it was a reunion of their bodies from well over a year, and that month had been excruciating, no matter how dramatic it sounded in the blond’s head at that moment. His cock spasmed the moment his tip touched her cervix and he let out the most guttural groan into the valley of her perky breasts . Michael’s fingers curled in and gripped her flesh a little tighter for a brief few seconds as he rode out the urge to just blow his load and fill her with his hot sticky seed right then and there. Her pussy hugged him like no other and her moans and panting breaths were like a song hitting his ears. Every movement she made rocked his world and when she pressed forward against him his mouth opened and sucked her tender flesh into his hot mouth once again. His face could live in her perfect tits for eternity for all he cared, and his hands yanked some of her dress material aside to grip handfuls of her ass to guide her ride as she bounced on his thick length. Michael moved her fast and hard, and began groaning louder into her chest, turning his mouth to suck on each nipple, biting and tugging on the tender peaks too.

When his hand slipped between them, all it took was one tug on her raw and exposed clit before she was hollering his name in that backyard and he growled, “yes!” in response. “Come on, baby. Look at me.” He was peering up at her. “I wanna see you face when you cum again.” This time she’d cum on his grinding shaft as his hips pistoned like a well oiled machine and worked himself in and out of her. Michael’s favorite thing was to watch her face when he’d make her come, especially when it was coupled with the sensation of feeling her walls spasm and grip him. His fingers teased her eight thousand nerve endings a little more before both hands wound back at her hips to guide her harder and faster up and down his length, ready to pick her up and carry her on inside once her body was quaking with her impending orgasm rolling like waves through her petite body. “Come on, mama. Let me feel you,” he coaxed, smirking at her new title. His sapphire stare was fixed on her, shifting between her face to her bouncing chest, and occasionally to the wet sounds their bodies were making.

There it was. Right there. Hell, she even moaned out loud a little plea of him not to stop and to keep on pressing forward to drive her up the wall. That sweet, hot sensation that Naomi hadn’t realized she had been craving until she had got the little tease of what it felt to be touched by Michael again. She knew by now there was no going back — she simply couldn’t taste the fruit and return it. Almost like an addict, Naomi was hungry for what Michael had been offering. Somewhere in between his fingers deep inside her, her hands moving over her own body, and his fingers grasping her hips to guide her all while he whispered those taunting words to her…well, she was practically breathless. There would only be so much she could take before she was left to be a little hot mess — from both moaning pathetically and quivering in his lap. At this rate, she was pretty damn close. There truly was nothing like Michael, not physically or emotionally. She couldn’t even say there was a single man in this world that made her feel an ounce of what he did, and shake from an orgasm that quickly. Tilting her head back, Naomi let out a brief hum that doubled as a moan and a whimper, finding the way the words left his mouth incredibly sexy. It turned her on, as if the thick member that had slipped inside her like a glove hadn’t done the trick. “Mm,” Naomi moved to slip her hand over the palm that traveled up over her chest, moving his hand toward her mouth, slipping a single digit of his into her mouth. Another moan, this time as she sucked the tip. “You’ve got no idea.” He truly didn’t. His touch, there was nothing like it. All he had to do was tease her and her body responded like she was being sent to heaven and back. Now, with her legs spread and rolling in his lap, ensuring she had felt every single inch of what her man had to offer, was no exception.

She couldn’t take it anymore. Not with the way he was taunting her. Quickly, Naomi found that her hips had rolled that much faster every time his mouth came in contact with her skin, sure enough leaving a promise of a little bruising from the sick. “Baby, that feels so good…” Naomi trailed of with a whine, sure enough certain that the world around them could hear he loud pleas. She just prayed to God her mother or brother didn’t wake up for it, or were even home. But alas, she couldn’t care, because within a split second a fueled desire took over her and her hands flew to grasp onto his chin, angling his face to kiss him hard. Her tongue swirled over the seam of his lips before she was allowed access, moaning inside. It was just a distraction though, just the move she needed before her body was bound to betray her. He wanted her to come with his demands, and who the hell was she to not oblige? Naomi never seemed to be able to deny herself the satisfaction when Michael’s hands roamed her body and he was buried entirely inside her, anyway. At the way he used a new title, it sparked Naomi’s attention away from her bliss, unable to help but smirking over it. “I’m gonna, baby, I’m—,” Goddamn. He was overloading her senses here. It was so sudden but sure enough, Naomi’s jaw slacked to allow her lips to part and a loud moan to escape, hand moving forward to grip onto the side of his neck. When that wave of sweet heat washed over her, her hips did nothing but buck out of time in an effort to ride out the wave, but elicit that satisfaction of clenching around his thicker cock. She grumbled softly and even tilted her head back, unable to help but thrash forward against him, so her chest was back in his face and her body was tense and straight. “Michael, Michael...” Naomi purred a mantra of his name, cheekbones hot with a flushed glazed. “Mm…”

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Viridian Vanguard (Part 32)

Elsewhere in the Grove during the duels, Weiss was in her nest, Penny snuggled up to her chest, Cheese and Winter’s summons around her for company, menial tasks, and/or food as she watched holos through Penny’s projector. (The quality was far superior than her comm-crystal’s.)

��I feel it… the purity of their love…!” screamed the monster of the week. “This is it… the power, of YURI!”

A wave of purple-black miasma shot out of the monster, washing over the convention floor, reality itself beginning to warp and change as bright, prismatic energy was sucked out of them.

Hina gasped. “Akane, Aoi, look! All the couples, the anime and manga, even the doujins and the fan art—they’re all losing their gayness!”

“You monster!” Aoi screamed. “Do you know how long that slow-burn was between Diya and Nene?! This is an affront to all of Girls Love!”

“You’re going down, Yarama!” Akane screamed as she whipped out her spear, Hina and Aoi doing the same with their weapons.

“Piper, this show is so fucking stupid...” Weiss muttered.

“Would you like to change to something else?” Penny asked through an annotation on the holo.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t enjoying it!” Weiss said.

A fight sequence began, the tables and displays being torn up and destroyed from the empowered monster, the heroes trying their best to spare the panicked, confused convention goers, and the merchandise, too, if they could help it.

“Face it, Spiral Hearts!” the Yarama cried. “The power of women loving women is just too strong!”

“That is true…” Hina replied “… but it’s not as strong as the true fans of yuri, those who make and support new content for fans everywhere, not filthy parasites like you! Akane! Aoi!”

“On it!” they both cried, before they all joined their weapons into one giant cannon. “For the love of all that makes our lives worth living… SPIRAL PIERCER…!”

The projection suddenly stopped, Penny’s eyes flashing green.

“What happened?” Weiss asked amid the disappointed growls and groans of the summons.

“It seems there was a serious accident during Jaune and Pyrrha’s training!” Penny replied, untangling herself from Weiss’ arm, then hovering towards the window. “I’m afraid my medical expertise is needed on-site, apologies, Weiss.”

“Don’t you just have first-aid equipment right now?” Weiss asked as she sat up.

“Yes, but I still have my treatment database, patient history, and high-precision scanners,” Penny replied. “I’ll inform you of any new developments as soon as I can!”

Weiss sighed, frowning as she watched Penny fly out the window and out of sight. One of Winter’s summons gently prodded her on the side, and gestured to her comm-crystal charging on a dock in the corner; she turned to them and shook her head. “You’ll have to find out what happens next later, I’ve got a hunch I need to investigate,” she said as she stood up. “Help me get dressed, everyone!”

The summon sighed, before everyone available either fetched Weiss’ garments from the closet, or helped her put it on. “Cheese, you’re coming with me,” Weiss said as she scooped what remained of him from his plate, now just a small blob no bigger than her hand.

c:

“I’m heading out to the training grounds!” Weiss said as she passed by Winter in the living room.

“Don’t try to squeeze in more exercise when you’re supposed to be recovering, I really did mean that was the only time I’d carry you back!” Winter replied, not looking up from the Nivian-Actaeon book she was reading.

“I won’t, sheesh! It’s been what, four years since that happened?” Weiss said as she opened the door.

“I know you, Weiss, it takes a long while for you to give up on something you’ve put your mind to,” Winter replied as she turned the page.

Weiss shook her head as she shut the door behind her, called for the elevator before taking a bite out of Cheese.

He was down to just his soulstone by the time she arrived, by which point Jaune was securely strapped to a spine board and being carried away by Taiyang and Nora, Ren and Penny following them with medical supplies.

Futher away, Yang was on a bench, comforting the rather glum looking Pyrrha sitting beside her. After a few moment’s consideration, Weiss stepped over and asked, “May I ask what the hell happened to Jaune this time?”

“We were dueling, and I accidentally threw him far harder and further than I intended,” Pyrrha replied. “His landing was… ugly.”

“Should I…?” Weiss asked uneasily.

“In short: he looked a human pretzel,” Yang said. “Just so you know, the un-pretzeling process wasn’t pretty, either.”

“Uh... huh...” Weiss mumbled. “Do you need me to stay, or should I just leave…?” she asked, thumbing behind her.

“If your brain is functioning enough again for Pit Fighter business, sure!” Yang said.

“I’ve made quite a lot of progress on the weapon choice front, it’d be a shame to waste this time,” Pyrrha added.

Weiss nodded, and sat down with them. “So how’s it going, exactly?”

“If we’re being thorough about it, I’m halfway through the process,” Pyrrha replied. “I still haven’t explored any of the Fae firearms that weren’t almost-complete replicas of AFA armaments, but now I know for sure that I have a solid idea of what I’m looking for in melee weapons.”

“And what would that be?” Weiss asked.

“Something versatile with reach, coupled with a shield and elemental mediums for an all-rounded offense or defense,” Pyrrha replied. “Weiss’ temporarily limited powers aside, both of you are highly specialized fighters, and I’d rather not lose a good chunk of our effectiveness, or expose glaring weaknesses in our defenses should one of you be downed, or otherwise indisposed. Whether it’s defending against attacks from any range, leading a charge into our enemies, or wreaking some elemental havoc, I’ll be ready for it.

“That being said, I haven’t seen what Fae ranged weapons can bring to the table, and if the melee weapons were any indication, they should be quite the learning experience.”

“You should probably join us at the firing range later, Weiss!” Yang said. “Get a feel for how the Fae deal death from a distance.”

“I’d rather not,” Weiss replied. “After all that training at the Terrace, my arms will definitely become too sore to even hold a gun as soon as I’m hit the recoil.”

“I meant in a mental, tactical sense, see what you might go up against in person!” Yang replied. “You’ve barely seen anyone really use a ranged weapon outside of all-out war where tracking who fired what was the least of your worries. Plus, the special ammo will give you a great idea of what happens when you mix elements up—nothing wrong with your using pure, but you miss out on useful things like Melty Wash that way.”

“’Melty Wash…?’” Weiss asked.

“Melty Wash,” Yang repeated, nodding. “It sounds just as stupid in Actaeon, don’t worry.” She winced as her stomach growled. “Ugh, all this drama made me forget how hungry I am—come on, let’s go get some grub and a nap, then on to lighting shit up!” she said, getting up.

Weiss shrugged. “Alright, fine, I’ll go!” she said as she hopped up. “I figured I needed to get out of bed and do something productive today, anyway...”

Jaune was left in the cabin he bunked in, Taiyang and Penny stayed behind to take care of him and keep him company. Everyone else had lunch and rested a while, before discussing Pyrrha’s firearms training.

As elementally-infused ammo, alchemical grenades, chemical weapons and the like needed to be specially ordered by and used under the supervision of a senior watcher or other qualified individual, and Qrow was far too drunk at the moment, they started out with the standard Fae firearms.

In contrast to the practical, sleek, and streamlined AFA guns Pyrrha was used to, the Fae practically made it a point to have their guns as flashy and embellished as possible. Every one of them seemed to have as many engravings, stylized components, and decorations as they could possibly add without compromising function too much, like an iron sight made out of some long-dead predator’s skull, the gun barrel coming out of its jaws

Metal and wood were the materials of choice for most of them, all manner of colours, grains, and sheen from the varieties, mixtures, and treatments, with the rest of the parts made from bone, rock, crystal, plant fibers, and whatever else the Fae could get their hands or hand-equivalents on. There was barely any built-in magitech to be seen, no small-form targeting systems, recoil adjusters, or ammo management systems, just physical springs, levers, hammers, revolvers, and whatever else.

And almost all of them were powerful, even the quietest guns having massive impact.

Thip. Crack. Thip. Crack. Thip. Crack.

Pyrrha fired her “Fang Gun” into a log target, each bone projectile lodging an inch or two deep into the wood, splinters flying out from the holes, the cracks clearly audible to Weiss even as she watched from well away to the side.

She stopped after six shots, putting her rifle down and massaging her arms. “Not the kind of gun you fire just for fun, is this?” she asked Ren.

“Not unless your idea of ‘fun’ is accuracy competitions, or clean hunting kills,” Ren replied calmly. “Shall we focus on lower-caliber weapons that are easier to fire for sustained periods, such as repeaters? Most every Fae firearm hits the user almost as hard as they do the target.”

“No,” Pyrrha replied, picking the gun back up, and aiming for a farther target. “I suppose I’ll just have to learn to make every single shot a hit from here on out!”

Ren nodded. “One well-placed bullet’s all you really need, most of the time.”

“And the rest?” Pyrrha asked.

Ren smiled. “Two bullets.”

After Pyrrha started getting used to the intense recoil, and firing far less frequently than she would have with human guns, they started planning which weapons she was to try out, how she was going to test them out, and who would be involved.

Everyone except Weiss donned a set of armour; a small arena was built by a copse of smaller trees with the help of deployable cover, ballistic shields, and the foliage; and several dozen crates of ammo were carted out of storage, their contents transferred to smaller boxes set around the area, or to loaded into all manner of belts, bags, and quivers just waiting to be strapped on.

Before Pyrrha’s first live-fire exercise, however, Ren wanted to demonstrate how Fae opponents would be using firearms themselves, exchanging his usual sickles for two “Shredders,” Fae-style SMGs.

“The first thing you need know is, except for heavy weapons like Hailstorm cannons or extreme long-distance weapons like Shardslingers and Farslingers, Fae tend to prefer shooting on the move, and most can shoot quite accurately and survive getting shot at also,” Ren said as he loaded one of his guns with a clip.

He dashed towards some training dummies, shredding their canvas coverings with short, accurate burts. He maneuvered around their cover and shot them from behind, slid on the ground to slip through tiny gaps and holes in defenses, even leaped off a ledge and fired the last of his clip in mid-air.

“Predicting your enemies movements and firing where they will be in a second is a helpful skill in lower ranks, and absolutely vital as you move up,” he said as landed, pulled out his second shredder and loaded them both.

“The second is that, thanks to our biology and engineering advancements, dual-wielding guns isn’t as stupid and dangerous idea to us Fae as it is to you humans,” Ren said as he adjusted the stocks, shortening them and fitting them over his forearms. “In fact, it’s actually quite popular inside the Pits, both as a stylistic choice and a significant combat advantage.”

He calmly crossed a bridge lined with target dummies, both guns blazing and ripping apart targets on both sides, casually bending his arms further and more dramatically than any human could to shoot behind his back, over his shoulders, and even under his leg.

“And the third and arguably the most important is: we Fae are far, far more mobile and agile than any of you are right now, or will be in the immediate future, so do consider any way your enemies can outmaneuver and flank you,” Ren said as he holstered one gun, replaced the empty clip with a drum magazine.

He moved towards one of the “bases” in the arena, a tight cluster of trees with platforms rising up two stories above him, a small sniper’s nest on the third. Several dummies stood behind cover, well-protected from any shots angled upwards, free to pump Ren full of bullets if they were actually armed and alive.

Then Ren started jumping from branch to branch, running up and along the trunk and the walls, swinging from the ropes or running on top of the ziplines, raining metal hell down on all of them from above and behind.

Ren zipped down from the base, gracefully landing back down to the ground. He unloaded the empty drum, turned over to Pyrrha and Weiss said, “Generally speaking, never forget to look up. Now, any questions or concerns?”

“None,” Pyrrha said, smiling as she put on her helmet. “Let’s get shooting.”

“Oh yeah!” Nora cried as she shot out of her seat. “We about to get all John Woo up in here!”

Note: Aside from the tendency for special ammo and the like to deteriorate over time, to the point of being unusable or dangerous to use, it’s also expensive to produce, and capable of causing severe injuries to folks and damage to property that oftentimes require urgent, specialized treatment, thus the many hurdles to legally acquiring and using them. Due to the nature of the Keeper and her team, restrictions are a bit looser and relatively easier, but not by much.

The shardslinger is the non-elemental version of the farslinger. Though they use many similar designs, the key difference is in the loading mechanism and the insides of the barrels, with the latter being specially treated and much, much, MUCH more expensive, to be able to handle the severe wear of high-power elemental mediums. It’s not unknown for substandard barrels to simply explode or melt during stress testing.

This chapter was coded “Shooty Shooty Bang Bang.” The next chapter is coded “John Woo-ing It Up In Here.”