#everything around paraded love and gift giving. and i was just alone and not receiving anything

[asvidema]

i also should try to at least make peace with today's festivity by trying to draw ocs kissing. lmao

[shadowofchwe]

sovereign sin | vernon chwe

Lust born from a mutual loathing. All the prince wants is your crown. You'll never give it to him. But that doesn't stop you from giving him everything else.

👑 Pairing: prince!vernon x princess!reader

👑 Word Count: 3.6k

👑 Genre: Enemies to lovers (with emphasis on the enemies), mainly pwp, smut, royal au

👑 Rating: 18+

👑 Warnings: Mention of arranged/forced marriage, explicit language, mention and presence of weapons (sword/dagger), the enemies to lovers is strong, a very drawn out tension filled lead up, mention of hating each other/wanting to kill each other, hard degradation including multiple uses of whore and one use of bitch, groping, brief spanking, brief grinding, biting/marking/scratching, dirty talk, manhandling, making out, mention of blood being drawn from rough kisses, restraining hands (f receiving), explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (pls be safe), rough sex, hate sex, brief choking, these two basically hate each other but love fucking each other 🤩, the prince has a name kink 🤭, we love remembering that we still want to kill each other after post nut clarity 🫣

A/N: So I've unfortunately been stuck on Bounty for a while but the prince Vernon vibes with the new white tour outfits has really been fucking me up lately so here's this 😂 Bounty is still coming though so thank you for being patient 🫶🏻 This was my first time trying this genre and really trying to dive into the enemies to lovers trope so I hope you enjoy it if you decide to give it a read ���� Thank you as always for being such lovely and supportive readers 🥺💙

Masterlist

Your heels echoed down the halls of the palace with each step, and all you could see was red as you strode past rows of windows and tapestries. You shoved the door open to your chambers before quickly shutting it behind you. You couldn't remember the castle ever feeling so suffocating. Even with its countless passageways and rooms upon rooms, it had never felt harder to breathe in your home.

You chalked it up to mainly being an unfortunate side effect of constantly having to share the palace with the various "eligible" bachelors that your parents were determined to marry you off to. You were more than grown, but that hadn't stopped the king and queen from parading you around like some kind of prize to be won. All of your days lately had been filled with failed attempts of suitors trying to woo and charm you. Honestly, you just found all of it to be absolutely fucking exhausting. And pointless. Because you weren't even remotely interested in a single one of them.

Most of them had one of two goals. The crown. Or finding their way into your bed. A rare, ambitious few even strived to achieve both. You especially despised those entitled bastards. You belonged to no one, and you had no intentions of a forced marriage changing that anytime soon.

Your body was trembling with your anger as you stripped off the outer layers of your gown, letting the material gather in a pile around your feet. You stared back at your reflection, now clad in only your corset and under skirt, and had the urge to scream at the top of your lungs. Of course, someone would come storming into your room in alarm the moment the sound left your mouth, so you refrained.

You looked around, even though you knew you were currently alone, before stepping up to your bookshelf and running your fingers along the spines lining the wall. You suddenly felt desperate for the only place in the entire castle that you knew you could truly be alone. A gift from the palace architect. A secret project you'd had commissioned years ago. A room hidden behind your bookshelf that only you knew about. A brief escape that allowed you to temporarily catch your breath again.

The tightness in your chest loosened significantly as you slipped soundlessly behind the bookcase, pulling the door shut to conceal your hiding spot. You reached up to light the single lantern, and it bathed the room in a dim glow. The hair on the back of your neck immediately stood up as the startling realization washed over you. You weren't alone.

Your hand instinctively curled around the small dagger wrapped around your thigh, "I would suggest stepping out of the shadows, unless you fancy having your blood spilt."

"No need for violence, your highness."

The voice that came from the darkest corner of the room sent a chill through you. However, you no longer felt threatened, so you released your grip on your weapon as the intruder stepped forward to reveal themself.

"I don't know how you got in here, but I'm really not in the mood for your games today, prince." came your cold greeting.

The silver haired man smirked back at you and stepped closer.

"Aw, what's the matter, princess? Another bad day of suitors boring you to death?" he quipped back, and you scowled at him.

The amusement dancing in his eyes made your blood boil, and you found yourself rethinking going for the dagger at your hip.

"Leave me," you snapped, "I have no desire for you, or your vile company."

The prince chuckled before moving closer and taking a loose strand of your hair between his ringed fingers. You felt your breath catch in your chest.

"Oh, your highness, we both know the answer to all your problems is staring you right in your pretty little face." he taunted, giving you a knowing smile as he twirled the lock around his finger.

You wanted to slap that annoying grin right off his face, and you had done just that on more than one occasion. Your hand shot up to wrap around his wrist as you fixed him with your icy gaze. Challenge lit up in the prince's dark eyes, but he let your hair slip from his grasp.

"I'm not letting you anywhere near the crown. This kingdom will never belong to you." you spat back, unintentionally tightening your grip on him.

He frowned at you, and in the next moment the power had shifted as he caged you in against the nearest wall. You let out a surprised gasp as a subtle adrenaline began coursing through you. But it wasn't fueled by fear…

"At least you know that I can satisfy you. Can you say the same for any of these other poor bastards?" the prince pressed, his warm breath tickling your ear.

"I told you, prince," you shot back, but your voice betrayed you, coming out shaky, "I'm in no mood today."

He hummed to himself before dragging his fingertips along the much too thin fabric of your under skirt, "Tell me, princess. Do any of your other suitors make you feel even half of what I make you feel?"

You could feel the goosebumps rising up all over your skin, even without having his hands directly on you. Damn this prince. You truly despised him, and you knew he felt the same. But somehow you kept finding your way back to each other, ever since he had first shown up with the other suitors. Some unknowable, but powerful magnetic force drawing the two of you together. The only thing he wanted from you was your body, and even more than that, the crown.

You wanted to burn each other alive, but you had an undeniable attraction and chemistry that felt like the two of you would burn everything around you to the ground. It was addictive. And electric. And no matter how much you both hated it, you craved each other. Even now, you could feel it.

The prince's gaze was focused on the rise and fall of your chest, your breasts spilling out slightly from the top of your corset. His eyes flicked back up to meet your own, and the hunger you saw in them had you pressing yourself harder against the wall.

"Do any of them touch you the way I do?" he went on in a hushed voice, free hand gripping your chin before his thumb brushed across your bottom lip.

Every look, every touch, had you closer and closer to crumbling in his grasp. The way you always inevitably did.

"I wonder, do they know?"

"Know what?" you asked back, barely louder than a whisper.

His hand slid beneath the fabric, and you could feel that familiar fire starting as his fingers trailed higher and higher before coming to rest along the inside of one of your thighs.

He drummed his fingers against your skin, "That their sweet little princess is actually a filthy little whore."

Before you could think better of it, your hands were roughly grabbing hold of his shirt.

"You will not speak to me that way. Do you understand me, prince." you seethed, but his face was now so much closer to yours, and you could feel your anger evaporating as your eyes lingered on his smirking mouth.

The silver haired man leaned closer, your noses practically touching, and his free hand pulled teasingly at the strings holding your corset together.

"Tell me to stop, princess." he murmured, lips ghosting over your own and making you suck in a sharp breath.

"I loathe you." you reminded him through your teeth as a last ditch effort.

He laughed, that infuriating laugh.

"That may be so, your highness, but you're still dying for me to fuck you. I bet I could even get you to beg."

"I would never," you retorted icily, "especially not to a cocky little prince like you."

"This mess between your legs says differently, princess."

Your reply died on your tongue when his fingers swept through your folds, a gasp escaping you instead.

"Plus, you made it so easy for me today. No usual challenge of those giant, ridiculous gowns that you always wear. So many annoying layers." he continued as his hand curved around to squeeze your ass.

"Well, maybe, if you weren't such a brute, I wouldn't be running out of excuses for my poor seamstress as to why all my dresses are in such disarray."

The prince used his hold on you to yank you closer, fingers digging into your flesh, "Oh, but you like when I'm a brute. You find pleasure in the pain. The princess likes it rough, just admit it."

"What I am, prince, is growing tired of your games. Fuck me or leave, your company is beginning to bore me." you fired back, doing everything to make your tone sound convincing.

The look he gave you in return sent a fresh surge of heat through you, something truly wicked gleaming in his chestnut irises.

"As you wish, your highness."

He made a show of removing his belt, as well as the sword sheathed at his side, letting them fall to the floor with a clatter. You reached out to help pull the jeweled jacket off his shoulders, the prince raising a curious eyebrow at you as you did so. Just as your hands went for his pants, he caught you off guard by flipping you around to face the wall, his chest pressing against your back.

Without wasting any time, he roughly hiked up your under skirt to expose your lower half. You hissed when he delivered a harsh slap to your ass, the presence of his rings making your skin sting that much more. His large hand kneaded the flesh a moment later, and you could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck.

"Spoiled, bratty, little princess." he remarked before his hand came down on you again.

You bit back a moan, refusing to give the bastard the satisfaction. His fingers suddenly went to the dagger at your hip to disarm you. Your weapon joined his own on the floor, the metallic clang of the blades ringing out in the room.

"Scratches and bite marks are one thing, but I'm afraid I really don't fancy being stabbed."

You scoffed in mock offense, "You really trust me that little?"

His hair tickled your skin as it brushed the side of your face.

"About as much as you trust me." he whispered back before grazing his teeth against your ear.

You hummed and pushed your ass back against his crotch, immediately relishing in the feeling of how hard your little back and forth routine had made him.

"You know what they say, prince." you started, rolling your hips just to torture him further, "Keep your friends close…and your enemies-"

You were cut off by your own yelp when strong arms wrapped around you. One draped itself over your chest, and the other circled around your waist before roughly pulling you back to be flush against the prince's broad chest.

"Well, your highness, it doesn't get much closer than when I'm inside of you. Stuffing that insatiable little cunt of yours." he said, his voice like velvet as his lips trailed the length of your jaw.

You cursed yourself for the way your body came to life under his touch. His mouth wreaked hell on your neck, biting and sucking your sensitive flesh, while his hands went back to trying to undo your corset.

"Fucking hell, who laced this thing?" the prince growled in annoyance as he struggled with the ties.

You couldn't help but giggle at his frustration, but it turned into a cry when you felt his teeth sink into your skin.

"Maybe your seamstress is onto us. I swear this corset was tied by a member of the royal guard." he complained further, and you burst into a full on laughing fit, quickly using your hand to try to muffle some of the sound.

"Performance issues today, prince?" you teased, flashing him a smug gaze over your shoulder.

The piercing glare he gave you in return could have burned a hole right through you.

"Oh for fucks sake." he gritted out before finally losing patience and using his hands to just shred the garment all together.

You opened your mouth to scold him for his brutish behavior, but instead a moan slipped out from his hands immediately harshly fondling your breasts.

"Bet you're still sensitive from our last romp, aren't you, princess?"

He flicked his thumb over one of your nipples, and you hissed in response. His other hand came up to curl around your jaw and jerk your face to the side.

"Give me your mouth, your highness." he commanded gruffly, his lips meeting yours in a bruising kiss.

The familiar taste of him on your tongue had the flame burning inside of you stoking higher and higher. One of your hands reached up to snake into his silver locks as your mouths devoured one another. His hands roved all over your body, squeezing and kneading your exposed flesh. You were on fire, and the only thing you could do was burn, burn, burn.

His teeth nipped at your lip, and your nails scratched against his scalp, making him groan in pleasure. You dug your nails in harder. His bites turned rougher. Both of you consumed in an inferno of pleasure mixed with pain.

You tasted blood, and it was impossible to tell if it was his or yours. The prince pulled back suddenly, looking absolutely wild. His eyes were dark and blown out, hair a disheveled mess. His mouth was swollen and stained a faint red, as you were sure yours was as well.

"Fuck," he hissed, wiping at his crimson lips, "I don't think I've ever had a woman draw blood on me before."

You wiped at your own mouth, giving him a knowing look, "Looks like I'm not the only one who enjoys pain, prince."

The prince's eyes lit up in mirth, and his maroon lips curled into a wicked smirk. His tongue poked against the inside of his cheek, gaze never leaving your face as he made quick work of undoing his pants. As always, you stood there, mesmerized at the way his cock sprang up against his stomach. He didn't let you admire for long though before he was pushing you back up against the wall, his body pressing on you from behind.

He teasingly dragged his cock through your folds, one of his hands coming up to gather both of yours and pin them against the wall above your head. The other one rested on your hip, fingers flexing around your skin. You held your breath, waiting for the familiar stretch.

"Don't worry, princess." he said sweetly right next to your ear, "I'll make sure to hurt you just the way you like. Fuck you like the whore you are."

You let out a sharp cry when he pushed all the way into you in one swift thrust.

"Fuck. You're always so fucking tight." the prince grunted behind you as you felt him start to draw back out.

Your hands were already shaking in his hold, and he gripped your wrists tighter before slamming back into you. You swore loudly, followed by a string of breathy moans as the prince continued to snap his hips against yours.

"None of those other suitors appeal to you because you know none of them can fuck you like I can. I'm the only one who can satisfy you. The only one who sees you on your knees. The only one who's tasted you. The only one between your legs and buried in your cunt. You don't want anyone else, admit it, princess." he went on cockily, splitting you open with each harsh stroke.

"I didn't ask you to speak." you rasped back, "I asked you to fuck me."

You heard the prince growl, and then his hand left your waist to wrap around your throat instead. He squeezed slightly, his rings digging into your skin, "You only deny me because you know I'm right."

You clenched hard around him, and he hissed out a curse.

"Fuck you, prince."

His pace turned punishing as he increased the pressure around your throat.

"You bitch! It should be me. I should have the crown. This kingdom should be mine." he snarled out, practically fucking you into the wall.

"It will never be yours. I will never allow you to rule, you entitled, narcissistic bastard!" you spat back as your walls spasmed around him.

It always worked this way. The more hostile you were to each other, the better the sex was. The hotter the flame burned. You'd fuck until you both finished, or finished each other.

"I…hate…you." the prince panted out, his hand loosening around your throat, but his brutal pace never stuttered.

"I…loathe…you."

You were close, and you could tell he was too. Just like it always did, the anger and hostility dissolved into overwhelming pleasure as you both neared your highs. You could feel his heated breath on your bare skin, and both of his hands moved to grip your waist, fingers determined to leave their mark on you.

"Vile…prince." you breathed, your body noticeably trembling now.

The prince's head fell forward to rest against your shoulder, "My name, princess. Say it."

Your broken sob filled the air, and you quickly used your hand to try and muffle the sound. The prince moaned as he reached the deepest part of you.

"Say it."

"Vernon." you whispered breathlessly, and you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

"Fuck. Again." he requested as his thrusts started to lose their rhythm.

More cries left your mouth. You were moments away from snapping.

"Vernon."

You were falling apart as soon as his name finished falling from your lips, and one of Vernon's hands covered your mouth to quiet your sounds of pleasure. Even behind his hand, you just kept chanting his name in a hushed voice, like it was the only thing that made any sense to you in the moment.

"Fuck, princess." Vernon swore, his strokes growing even sloppier.

You hummed dazedly as you nearly went slack in his arms, "Vernon."

"Fuck, Y/N." the prince gasped before you felt him filling you with his own release.

He let out a sound of panic a moment later when you lost your last little bit of strength and collapsed in his hold. Vernon carefully helped maneuver you to the floor. This was the closest he had ever come to actually holding you after sex. It made some strange, new sensation stir in the pit of your stomach. You decided to just blame it on how out of it you were currently feeling. That had to be it.

Vernon looked down at you and chuckled softly, "You know, your highness, it would be so easy for me to kill you right now with how weak and helpless you are."

"You're right," you agreed dreamily, "but you won't."

The prince raised an inquisitive eyebrow at you before shaking his head and laughing to himself once again.

"I suppose that would take all the fun out of it. You and I both love the fight after all."

"That we do." you said back with a tired half smile.

Something flashed in the prince's eyes and you could've sworn he even grinned back at you, though both were probably just your post orgasm haze playing tricks on you. The prince got to his feet suddenly and began readjusting his clothes before retrieving his belt and sheathed sword from the floor. You slowly sat up as you watched him, surprised when he held your discarded dagger out to you. You took it, and then held onto the wall for support as you stood on still shaking legs.

Vernon turned to slip back out behind the bookcase, but you put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Don't let anybody see you." you reminded him.

He smirked mischievously back at you, "Never. Besides, I did find your secret little hiding spot all on my own after all."

"Mmm, yes, about that, prince. If I ever find you in here again I will kill you." you threatened, keeping your voice pleasant.

"God, I love when you talk violent to me. You know it gets me all hot when you threaten my life, princess." Vernon quipped back, and you felt the urge to slap his smug face resurfacing.

He pulled you back into him in one quick motion, crashing his lips furiously against yours and stealing any of the air you had regained in the last several moments. You pretended to melt into the kiss so that you could catch him off guard when the tip of your dagger poked at his shirt. Vernon immediately jumped back, staring at you in shock. You just grinned deviously back at him, "Leave me, prince, before I really draw some blood on you."

Challenge danced in his eyes. He gave a small bow in farewell.

"Until next time, princess."

The thing about the prince was that even when he left, he never really left you. His scent on you lingered, as well as his kiss on your lips. All the little marks and bruises covering your body were a neverending reminder. Vernon. You had let your enemy in again, and the worst part was that you knew it wouldn't be the last time. Actually the worst part was that you didn't want it to be the last time. You would keep feeding the flame. Even if it ended up burning everything and everyone around you to ash.

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

I Didn’t Mistake Your Finger for the Moon, I Just Chose to Look at You Instead

Tim Drake x Reader Oneshot

The title comes from zen buddhism (maybe chinese? i’m sorry I don’t know), the idea is I am pointing my finger at the moon to show you the moon don’t look at my pointed finger, look where I’m pointing.

Heavily inspired by the play Frankie and Johnnie in the Claire de Lune

***

You can’t believe it’s only 8:30pm, just two hours into the night and you’re already bored out of your skull. Around you, the huge ballroom swirls with sparkling socialites keeping themselves busy by incessantly talking shit and guzzling Bruce Wayne’s alcohol. Everybody has their lips to someone’s ear and a glass in their hand, except for you, which is quite stupid on your part. But that’s why you’re at the bar. 

Behind you, the positively charming laughs of the Wayne Gala’s guests dot the conversations that spill out through the room in concentric circles, rippling over each other in waves that ebb and flow right up until they reach you. Then they stop short, leaving you alone and trying to order a drink from a bartender who seems to be too busy to chat you up out of pity.

Not that you’d do anything with her, obviously. But still. Some attention would be nice.

Christ, you were so shit at knowing what to do with yourself at these parties. You’d think you’d have them figured out by now, but no such luck. Your funeral.

“Hey, have you seen Tim?”

You turn to face the speaker and your eyes fall on Dick Grayson, dressed gorgeous in a sharp suit complete with a dark blue bow tie. He looks incredible, but then again, he usually does. And miracle of miracles, the folks around you are now eyeing you up, trying to figure out if it’s worth skydiving into your conversation to get in a word with Bruce Wayne’s heir. Dick does that to people, has the sort of happy, positive demeanor that makes folks want desperately to talk to him, to be part of his group. You’ll probably never get used to it. Or to how beautiful he is.

“Yeah.” Yeah, you know where Tim is. You resist the urge to point across the ballroom, motioning with your chin instead. “He’s over there, schmoozing with some LexCorp folks.”

“Schmoozing? With LexCorp?” Dick’s face takes on a slightly disgusted hue in the light of the chandeliers.

You shrug. “Schmoozing, making thinly veiled threats, planting the seeds for some light corporate espionage, but not the sort anyone can prove. You know Tim.”

Dick chuckles at that. “I guess I do.” He takes a step away from you, then doubles back. “Are you all right, over here? You look a bit...”

“You can say lonely, Dick, it’s okay,” you say with a bit of bite, too many teeth in your voice, but he’s not wrong. “I’m fine, you don’t need to babysit me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Jeez, y/n, I didn’t mean--”

You cut him off. “No, it’s fine Dick, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.” You press a hand to the bridge of your nose and try to take deep breaths. Starting a fight with your boyfriend’s oldest brother is not exactly on your to-do list for the evening. “I am a bit lonely, but it’s cool, I get Tim back in...” you check your watch, a cheap analogue that clashes something awful with your cheesed-up attire. “Eight in a half minutes. Then he’s mine for at least an hour.”

Dick quirks his lips in a half-smile. “You guys time how long he spends doing W.E. business at these galas? That’s--”

“Adorable? Or just anal?” Try as you might, you can’t keep the cynicism from spreading thick over your tone.

“I was actually going to say very Tim,” he says back warmly. You grin at him, bad mood abandoning you for the moment. “It was his idea. Wouldn’t be much of a date if we didn’t spend any time together.”

Dick laughs again. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” Across the room, Tim turns away from the circle of business harpies and shoots you an apologetic smile. Dick must’ve clocked it as well. “Maybe Tim’ll turn knight-in-shining-armor and rescue you,” he suggests.

You wrinkle your nose. “I doubt it. As much as I don’t like it, the business stuff needs to get done.”

Dick eyes Tim’s back. “Yeah, something tells me you’d be the one doing the rescuing.” He clears his throat. “Well, I hate to be rude, but I gotta skip out on you.” Dick’s down-to-earth manner of speaking always surprises you, especially because he manages to get away with it at these swanky events. When you do it everyone seems to look at you sideways. “Need to go find Damian,” Dick explains further. “If he’s not antagonizing your boyfriend, he may be up to something worse.”

You nod in agreement. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

He sighs. “Yeah, wish me luck.” And then Dick makes his exit, leaving you with seven and a half minutes to wallow before Tim comes back.

You chide yourself a bit, picking up the Gin and Tonic that the bartender had just placed in front of you. Were you seriously going to wallow in self pity at a gala half of Gotham would kill to attend? With Tim Drake as your date? Hundreds of girls and quite a few boys probably daydream about being in your place, especially after he made the Forbes Thirty under Thirty list last month. Still, his spot on the list doesn’t change the fact that exactly no one at this party, striking Dick and the bartender, has said a single word to you.

You stifle a sigh. It isn’t your fault Gotham’s socialites always prove to be uninterested in Timothy Drake’s thoroughly middle-class girlfriend. They had found you just fascinating when the relationship was new and Tim’s move of dating so far below his class had actually made headlines. But, six months later, your novelty had worn clean off. God, you wished you had someone to talk to. You were feeling so small.

Swallowing a sip of G&T, you think back to your first gala at the Manor. The glitter and glamour of the evening had left you breathless, whereas now it’s making you sick. Some parts of the evening never seem to go stale, though. You still love playing dress up in gorgeous clothes and parading around with your boyfriend, who was also dressed up in gorgeous clothes. Tim usually bought your dresses for these events, since there was no way on the planet you could afford them. You’d gotten used to Tim being stupid rich early in your relationship, and it doesn’t bother you that you can never match him in the money department. 

Occasionally, Tim likes to spoil you, although neither of you are too keen on outrageous gifts that are ultimately useless. He tends to avoid getting you things that are overpriced and unnecessary. (Cheap and unnecessary is where you operate. The two of you are currently having a competition over who could get the other the smallest, most useless gift for under two dollars. Your last gift to him had been a yellow plastic shovel that fits in the palm of your hand)

Tim doesn’t like buying expensive, frivolous things on principle, and you don’t like receiving them, also on principle. But if you’re going to attend these galas, you need an expensive dress point-blank, otherwise you’ll stick out like a sore thumb. And you want to attend, you want to be Tim’s girlfriend, public appearances and all. So Tim just has to buy you the dresses, which you secretly love because they’re gorgeous, and you have to accept them, because you can’t attend the gala without them. It’s a neat way for Tim to give you something expensive and make sure you’ll have a need for it. Plus, you know he loves seeing you wear the clothes he’s bought you.

Tonight, however, you’re not wearing one of Tim’s Vera Wang’s or Alexander McQueen’s. You’ve opted instead on something you’d bought yourself, a bridesmaid’s dress you’d worn to a friend’s wedding earlier this year. It just about fits in with everyone else’s attire, and besides, the dress was expensive. You wanted to wear it at least twice. A great plan, except it isn’t as beautiful as some of the other dresses in the room tonight. You’ve recognized more than one from a runway fashion account you follow on Instagram. Nice as your dress may be, it can’t compare with any of those, and every time you see an exceptionally beautiful gown you wonder what you were thinking, wearing a dress like this.

The negative buzzing in your ears dissipates as you catch Tim’s eye again. He’s got the same stupid look on his face he’d worn when he picked you up this evening. Like he’d been punched but he didn’t exactly mind.

“Are you sure you’re my date for tonight?” he’d whispered, after doing a cartoonish double-take at the door of your apartment, because he really is a good boyfriend. “I’m not sure other people will believe it.”

“Of course they will,” you’d scoffed, cheeks glowing at the compliment. “We look good together. You’re pretty stunning yourself.”

He’d look down at his own clothes with a worried expression. “Really?” Following your advice and urging, Tim had stepped out of his comfort zone tonight and was sporting a patterned tux. It’s a dark blue checked with thin black stripes, waistcoat and bow-tie to match. “I think I look like Al Capone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you look very dapper.” You had taken his hand, then, smiling up at him and leading him out of your apartment. “Charming, even.”

“If Jason’s there he’ll make fun of me. Damian definitely will.”

“They were going to do that anyway. And besides, who cares? I think you look great.”

“I guess you’re the only one that matters.”

“Damn straight.”

He really does look incredible tonight, you think to yourself as you check him out from your position at the bar. Nothing short of beautiful, with the long lines of the tux sitting pretty on his sinuous, willowy limbs and gorgeous frame. His shoulders are holding strong under the fine material of his jacket, and presiding over everything are his sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes. Which, you note in satisfaction, are now fixed on you as Tim extricates himself from the suits and makes his way to the bar.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks, plopping down next to you and casually hooking a foot around your ankle.

“Nope,” you smile happily, thrilled to be spending time with him again. “I was saving it for you, and as you can see, I had to really fight to keep it free.” You motion around yourself to the people ignoring you. 

Tim winces. “I’m sorry, y/n, if I could do anything--”

“Stop, stop,” you wave him silent. “Don’t worry about it. You’re here now, it’s okay,” you reassure him.

“I don’t like that you end up spending so much time alone at these things,” he says, wrapping an arm around you. “If you even think I’m going to let you come to this thing by yourself,” you say, shaking your head. “Some of the other ones, maybe, but if I don’t make an appearance at The Wayne Gala, capital T, W, and G, the public will think I’m out of the picture.”

“Defending your territory, huh?” Tim grins sidelong at you. “Keeping the society pages off my back, more like.” You shift in your seat, sensing an opportunity. “But maybe I am defending my territory, hmm?” You give him an obvious once over, let lust show in your gaze. “Maybe you’re too pretty to let out of my sight.”

He flushes, color overrunning his cheeks and spilling down his neck and making him look even more edible. You let out a breath. “God, Tim, I could just...” you lean over, easily catching his lips with yours. Holding him there for a just a second, you run your tongue quick over his bottom lip and then pull back, spending a few moments just looking at him, with him looking back. 

You wait for some of the sparkling energy to fade before you speak again. “It’s important to me that you know I’m here to support you as acting CEO.”

He laughs at that, spell broken. “I know sweetheart.” He turns from you to order a drink. “I’m very proud of you,” you say to his back. He rolls his eyes at you over his shoulder.

The bartender makes the drink inside of twenty seconds, because Tim Drake asked for it, and then your boyfriend spends a few more moments staring at you, taking the glass in his hand and eyeing you over the rim.

You meet his gaze. “What are you thinking?” He presses a finger to his ear. “Going off comms,” he murmurs, then surreptitiously fishes the device out of his ear and stows it in his pocket. If you hadn’t known what to look for you would swear he was just running his fingers through his hair and then brushing some lint off of his suit.

“If I’m honest, I’ve spent the last twenty minutes fantasizing about eating you out.”

...what?

It takes a moment for his words to connect to your brain. Then--

“Tim!” you squawk, eyes darting around to make sure no one had overheard you. “You can’t just say that to me in public!”

His eyes meet yours, he looks unimpressed. Tim never has any patience for your prudishness whenever he brings up sex with other people around. “What can I say? The LexCorp people were boring,” and now he’s the one looking you over, eyes slowly working up and down your form. You shiver under his attention. “That’s a very pretty dress you’re wearing, y/n, I think it would look great bunched up around your hips.”

God, confidence is such an irresistible look on him. Despite your better judgment, you decide to play along. Leaning closer, you let one hand ghost over his crotch, cupping him for half a moment as you say “and how do you think the dress will look on your bedroom floor?”

He gasps when you touch him, then smiles brilliantly, eyes shining. You really, really shouldn’t be encouraging him, but you can’t help it. You love him like this, you love the unrelenting force of his desire. You love how much he wants you. 

With Tim, you’ve found that once the idea of sex gets into his head and he sees that you’re game, he’s like a dog with a bone, gnawing and gnawing at you. There’s no stopping him in pursuit to get you into his bed, or car, or the nearest supply closet. And you always find yourself indulging him, because the sex is usually good, but the man himself is even better. You delight in seeing Tim aroused, because as soon as that switch is flipped, the self-control that Tim rigidly keeps in place disappears, and he becomes hypnotically impulsive with his emotions. It took some time for him to get the barriers down, for him to let loose around you, but now he allows himself to be everything all at once. An aroused Tim is playful, awkward, confident, shy, ridiculous, and enthusiastic. You never know what you’re going to get with him, and sometimes he flits from one affect to the other between moments, leaving you breathless.

And you’re more than happy to provide an arena for Tim to let loose, because the only time your boyfriend allows himself to be anything less than perfect is when he’s in your arms. Control rules Tim’s life in the form of some probably unhealthy idolatrous god. As he’s explained to you several times, yes, he actually does need to be this tightly wound, because if he makes a mistake he’ll lose clout at WE. Or he’ll be too slow at night. People will die (he will die.) Insert answer here. 

Which is all true, but it doesn’t mean Tim can’t take a fucking break once in a while. And that’s where you come in. Your boyfriend spends his whole life striving for perfection and punishing himself when he doesn’t reach it, but when he’s with you, he can be anything he wants. 

And one of the wonderful things about sleeping with Tim is so often you get to see everything he wants. Once he’s finally lost control, once you’ve convinced him to put the walls down, he’s like a kid in a candy store. He can do anything, and so he usually does everything.

“Christ,” he breathes in your ear, head still in your fleeting touch, one arm coming to rest on your back. “I think you’ve given me a semi.”

“That,” you say in a sing-song voice, absolutely delighted, “sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” You turn and pretend to walk away, but Tim catches hold of your arm, reeling you back towards him. “You can’t leave now, y/n,” he pleads, eyes dancing. “People are going to look at my crotch and see I’ve got a hard-on, and I can’t endure Cass making fun of me again. C’mon, y/n,” he pouts at you. “I’m your damsel in distress. Save me from the bullies. Dance with me so no one will see.”

You roll your eyes, but come to stand in front of him nonetheless, letting him lead you to the center for the room with his hands on your waist. This isn’t the first time a gala has bored Tim to sexual frustration. “People will still be able to see your crotch,” you argue. “We’ll just dance really, really close together.” As if to prove his point, he suddenly jerks your hips to his, and you all but fall against him. “The song is too fast for this kind of slow-dancing,” you say into his neck, false protests muffled by his suit.

He leans back to make eye contact with you as the two of you start swaying. “That doesn’t matter. We’re young lovers, y/n,” he reminds you seriously. “They’ll forgive us.”

“Young lovers, hmm?” You’re struck again by his confidence tonight, how alluring it is. It’s rare that he’s this sure of himself, but he wears it so well when he is.

“That’s right.” The two of you are silent for a moment, and you contemplate leaning your head against his chest. “You really do look beautiful in that dress, y/n,” Tim says quietly, all joking gone from his tone.

Your cheeks heat at the compliment. “Thank you.” And then, because you’re immature, too, and because Tim isn’t the only one who can flash his sex drive in public, you impulsively say “I bet you can’t guess what I’m wearing underneath.”

This is probably a mistake, but what the hell. You want your boyfriend just as much as he wants you, maybe more.

Tim doesn’t even wait two full seconds before responding. “See, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I bet I can.” You weren’t expecting him to be so quick on the uptake, your mistake for thinking his boredom hadn’t already driven him to tackle this particular problem.

“It’s warm enough out that you’re not wearing any tights or pantyhose, so the suspender sets are out.”

“The suspender sets are out,” you repeat solemnly, already excited by this new game you’re playing. “Well, hang on, maybe I just wore a set without the suspenders.”

Tim is quick to shake his head. “No, you hate doing that, you’d rather just wear separate set altogether. It’s a set without the suspenders.”

You let out a low whistle. “Got me pegged there, detective.” You see an opportunity, and waggle your eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll have you pegged, later.”

He falters in the slow waltz he’s leading you through. “Really not helping with the semi here, y/n” he complains, and he’s right, you can feel it pressing lightly against you. You roll your eyes. “Fine, let’s go back to you guessing what lingerie I’m wearing.”

He nods, only half joking. Tim loves a puzzle. “Thank you. So none of the suspenders.”

“So none of the suspenders,” you repeat again, and offer him a winning smile when he glares at you over it.

Explanatory monologue in full swing, he says “You normally like to match your dress, but this one’s black, which isn’t very helpful.” All of a sudden his attention shifts and comes to rest on your face. “Are you going to tell me if I get it right, or will I just have to wait and see?”

“What would make it better for you, baby?” you ask, voice sultry as you slide your hips against his.

“I have absolutely no idea. Is it the red one?” 

“Nope!”

“Damn. I love the red one.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.”

He pouts at you, but quickly perks up again. “Here, hang on, I’m going to risk exposing my erection so I can get a better view of your back,” and suddenly you’re spinning, once, twice, three times, before Tim pulls you back to his chest and dips you as the song ends. You’re panting a bit in surprise, and from your position suspended in his strong arms, you can feel one of his hands pawing around at your hip, smoothing over the fabric of your dress.

He pulls you upright as another song begins, a grimace on his handsome face. You reach up to brush some of his hair out of his eyes. “That was inconclusive,” he mutters.

You glance over his shoulder. “I think Bruce definitely got a good look at what’s going on down south.” Your boyfriend’s father is looking rather pointedly at the ground, a pained look on his face.

“I could barely see the lines of the set through your dress,” Tim complains, and then adds “Bruce’ll get over it. Or he won’t. Whatever,” he says dismissively. “Last week I walked in on Selina blowing him under his desk, so now we’re even. What’s way more important is that I couldn’t see anything, why couldn’t I see anything?”

“Aww, poor baby,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, before brightening a bit. “I mean, it wasn’t a total loss. I did get a great view of your ass. It still looks fantastic, by the way.”

“Thanks for the update.”

He keeps going. “I didn’t see the lines, but I did get a good feel of your underwear at your hip.” He plants his tongue between his teeth, eyes closed in concentration as you sway delicately to the new song. “I didn’t feel a strap, so I can rule out some of the thongs.” You hum in agreement, arms coming up to wrap securely around his torso in an extended embrace. “It isn’t either of the black ones, or the nice blue one, is it?”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not.”

“Hn.” He shifts his arms, and you feel his slight hand flitting about at your hip again. He soon gives up, discouraged. “The material of your dress is too thick, I can’t feel anything through it.”

You decide to throw him a bone. “I’ll give you a hint: I’m actually wearing another color besides black, and the set matches it.”

Tim frowns, stepping back from you for a moment to look down at your feet. “Your shoes are black too, what are you talking about?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to ruin it for you?”

“No, let me think,” Tim says, and goes silent, eyes shut. You study him as the actual detective comes out to play. His eyes snap open again, and you clock his gaze going for your throat and ears. No necklace, but you are wearing gold earrings. Tim ignores them and takes your hand in his, examining your rings. He knows you too well to ask whether the set is gold or silver, that isn’t your style. He’s getting much closer with the rings though, and then his sharp exhale is ghosting through your fingers and his eyes are meeting yours again. You give him a proud smile.

“Good solve, Timmy.” He kisses the pad of your index finger. “Nail polish, y/n?”

“Nail polish,” you confirm.

“Why?”

You pretend to think it over, letting your eyes go wide. “Well, I just thought it would look nice, you know? My hand right over the panties, maybe even inside them, if you wanted me to do any of the work on my own.”

His eyes just about bug out of his head at that, and then he shakes his smile back and forth, impressed. Your answering grin is knife sharp. “You’ve got me right where you want me, don’t you, y/n? What am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you want,” you whisper, winding your arms around his neck. “That’s sort of the point. We can get out of here right now.”

“You know I would love, love, to do that,” Tim says, running his hands down your back, “but there’s supposedly a deal going down at 9:30 that I kind of need to be there for.”

“Well, then,” you murmur, “you’ll just have to suffer for another twenty minutes.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he says drily. The two of you sway in silence for a few minutes before he speaks again. “Hold on, y/n, something just occurred to me.”

“Yes, Tim?”

“Your nail polish is purple, but you don’t own any sets that color. What gives?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. He looks at you for a few moments before his face smooths out again. “You really have it in for me tonight, don’t you? It’s a new set?”

“It’s a new set,” you confirm.

“And I bet you look just stellar in purple,” he says to himself, a desperate edge to his voice. 

“You know very well I look good in everything.” You glance downwards. “How are you doing there, Timmy?”

“Fuck off,” he says happily. “Is it lace?”

“Tim, sweetheart, of course it’s lace.”

Your boyfriend groans, then freezes in place. You look at him questioningly. “I’m running a cost/benefit analysis on me skipping out on this deal.”

“Give it to Tam,” you suggest.

“Give it to Tam,” he agrees. “Yeah, alright, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

You let out a delighted laugh, following him in the direction of his old bedroom in the manor. Behind you, you dimly hear the orchestra finish their song. There are a few moments of silence while you make your way to the exit, and then you hear a few forlorn notes on the piano that have you turning around and calling out “Tim!”

“Whoa, y/n, where are you--”

“Tim! Tim it’s Claire de Lune, they’re playing Claire de Lune, we have to stay!” You drag him back to the dance floor.

“But,” he tries to argue, “but y/n, we were going to--”

“Tim.” You stand your ground. “It’s Claire de Lune. Please?”

He mumbles under his breath but takes you back into his arms regardless, like the good boyfriend that he is. You adore the Claire de Lune, and he’s probably reasoned to himself that no amount of arguing or pleading could tear you from the melody spinning lazily through the room.

He’s still going to complain about it, though. “Claire de Lune, huh? I can’t believe I lived to see Twilight cock-blocking me again.”

You poke him in the side. “Some of us first heard Debussy at the Gotham Philharmonic and some of us read about him in Stephanie Meyers’ blockbuster paranormal romance and googled Claire de Lune on the family computer in their Dad’s office, okay? The important thing is we’re both here, and we can both appreciate it, so shut up.”

Tim shuts up. You smile at him, and let your eyes fall closed. The slow melody envelops you like mist and settles on your skin, resting easy in your inner ear. A small part of you anticipates the notes before the pianist actually plays them, and you find yourself nodding when they finally escape from her fingers. Her performance is perfect, she isn’t messing around trying to improve Debussy’s masterwork, just picking her way through it, measure by measure. You take deep, even breaths as a sense of calm permeates your system. Eyes still closed, you let the music relax you, content to wade dreamily in its cool comfort. 

After about a minute, Tim clears his throat. “Y/n,” he says gently, “look.” You open your eyes and follow Tim’s pointed finger to one of the floor-length windows, gasping out loud when you see the stunning full moon. It sits in an overcast sky, fog and smog and clouds pressing against it like an embrace. The thin ropey clouds that drift across its slouched figure are reflecting its yellow light and giving it a warm, pearly corona, a halo. You stare at it openly for a few seconds, admiring the bone moon in its sky armchair.

Your attention drifts back to Tim’s finger, arm still hanging loosely in front of you, and then to the man himself. The ballroom lights are low enough that you can imagine the moonlight reflecting off of Tim, too, that he too is catching some of its cotton shine on his face. You’re awfully lucky to be with someone who takes the time to point out a particular moon among of a string of nights with particular moons, and you tell him so. Tim’s smile is quiet, but he presses his forehead to yours, where it stays for the rest of the song.

When it ends Tim leans back to smile at you again. You smile back, feeling filled up with the moon and the music and him. Catching his hand in your own, you start in the direction of the grand staircase that leads up to his old bedroom. Tim stops you by pulling on your arm lightly, before turning and walking towards the doors that will take you outside.

You look at him quizzically. “Can we go to your apartment?” he murmurs. “We’ve been in my world this whole night, now I want to be in yours.”

You smile softly before leaning up to kiss him, quick and light. He squeezes your hand as he leads you through the room, and then suddenly you’re outside, breathing cool, almost autumn air while you wait for Tim to get a car sorted out. You turn your eyes upward to meet the moon again, the ghost of Claire de Lune still drifting through your head.

Tim breaks your reverie by calling your name, and you follow him into the back of a car. After directing the driver to your apartment, Tim hands you an earbud. You put it in your left ear while Tim puts the other in his right, and together you listen to Claire de Lune again as the car makes it’s way through a Gotham that’s soft and shiny with moonlight. Three repetitions of Debussy later you’re standing in front of your apartment, Tim wrapping his arms around you as you fiddle with your keys, unlock your door, and lead him to your bedroom.

Later, after you’re spent twice over and Tim has made good on his fantasy of opening you up with his mouth, Tim shifts in the bed and slides himself around you, lips at your ear.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You sigh happily. “Mmm.”

“I asked the orchestra to play Clair de Lune.”

You raise yourself up on your elbows at that, leaning over him with a meaningful look into his starry eyes. You’re sure there are stars in yours, too. 

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

You lie back down. “Thank you.”

His hand comes up to stroke your hair. “Mmm.”

[elizaviento]

A Promise of Things to Come

Note:  This is for @smudgethistledraws  :)

*****

A Promise of Things to Come

(Stan Pines x Reader)

SFW -- 2650 words

*****

Before my knuckles could make contact with the front door of the Mystery Shack, it was flung open unceremoniously by the most adorable and energetic creature imaginable – Mabel Pines.

“You’re finally here, hurry up – come in!”

In fact, I was 10 minutes early.  But, try telling this ball of energy that.  

Before I could reply, she grabbed my hand and practically dragged me up the stairs to the attic bedroom she shared with her twin brother.  Catching only a small glimpse of Stan as he lounged on his worn chair in the living room, he tossed me a wink before disappearing from view.  Naturally, I could feel my cheeks burn as my heart skipped a beat.  And, naturally, Mabel was the first to notice.  

“Hey!  You’re here now to teach me to draw, not to fawn over Grunkle Stan,” she chided as she slammed her way through the attic door, startling Dipper who was situated on the floor with about a hundred sheets of graph paper surrounding him.

“Oh hey,” he greeted as he gathered his wits.  He had obviously been deep in thought, no doubt mapping out a new dungeon for his next game of DD&moreD.

Waving to him casually, I glanced around the room which was littered with half packed boxes and I was reminded that the summer was rapidly coming to a close.  The twins would be returning to California by the end of the week and my weekly private sessions with Mabel would be coming to an end.  Which also meant my opportunities to snag precious time with Stan would be coming to an end, as well.  He and his twin brother, Ford, would be resuming their seasonal sailing trip around the world, leaving the Mystery Shack back into Soos’ capable care.  And I – I would go back to my day job; art teacher at the local high school. 

“Dipper, where are my art supplies?” Mabel questioned her twin as she tossed items from boxes in search.  

“How should I know?” he asked, annoyance lacing his tone as he gnawed on the end of his ink pen so hard, I was afraid it would explode in his mouth.  “You’re the one who packed them away.”

“But you should have been watching me!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation.  Catching a hint of color from the corner of my eye, I strolled over to a box situated next to Mabel’s bed and pulled her pallet of watercolors from inside.  “You found them!”

Snatching the pallet from my hands, she then dove into the box to retrieve the remainder of her supplies.  

“Uh, Mabel – it seems like Dipper has claimed most of the space up here today.  How about we have today’s lesson in the kitchen?”

Dipper glanced up at me, displaying an appreciative smile as Mabel agreed and yanked me back toward the stairs.

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

On our way to the kitchen, I was able to sneak one more peek at the man I’d been quietly admiring all summer before settling in at the table with Mabel and all of her supplies.  For our last lesson, I gave her free reign to create whatever her heart desired as I casually day dreamed.  In the living room, I could faintly hear Stan and Ford planning their fall adventure and I mentally inserted myself into those plans; imagined myself at Stan’s side, supporting him unconditionally.  In fact, I’d do so regardless of a fantasy trip around the world, if only given the opportunity.  

And, why hadn’t I received that opportunity?  I couldn’t quite say, to be honest.  The brief interactions I’d had with Stan thus far included his poor, but endearing, attempts at flirting and my bashful giggling.  It was nearly impossible to spend time with him alone due to one of the kids or his brother constantly milling about.  And now, with the summer coming to a close, I’d probably not see him again for the better part of a year.  

Sighing to myself, I was only brought back into the moment when the snap of Mabel’s fingers, just inches from my face, pulled me from my brooding.  

“So, what do you think?” she asked, holding up the painting she’d just completed of her and her pet pig, Waddles.  Mabel had picked up the techniques I’d taught her rather well and her own unique style emerged quite early.  In truth, she was incredibly talented.

“It’s great, dear,” I assured, taking the small canvas from her hands to inspect it closely.

“Really?!  Oh, I’m so glad because it’s a gift for you!  I want you to keep it to have something to remind you of me and Waddles.”

Peering over the canvas at the young girl’s beaming smile simultaneously warmed and clinched my heart.  I refused to accept any form payment when I’d agreed to tutor Mabel but I supposed taking this token of her affection would be fine.  And, it was quite well done as Mabel was a natural talent.  

Glancing at my watch, I was disappointed that our final session was coming to a close.  It was finally time to say goodbye.

I kept the affair as short and sweet as possible, hugging each twin in an almost vice like grip.  Dipper was utterly adorable as his round cheeks flushed crimson and he stuttered his farewell.  Mabel gave as good as she got, crushing my ribs with force I didn’t think was possible within her tiny body.

And, by the time I’d made my way to the door, the living room was deserted.  I’d missed my chance.  That is, until I somberly stepped out onto the front porch and collided with something large and solid.  

“Woah, watch where you’re goin’ there, toots,” a deep and gruff voice rumbled from the object blocking my path.  A voice that was delightfully familiar and set a rush of warm dopamine through my circulatory system.

“I – I’m so sorry!” I stammered, gathering my wits as Stan wrapped his large hands around my biceps and peeled me from his front.  “I was just on my way –”

“Say, whatcha doin’ this coming Saturday?”  

Now a foot between us, I glanced up toward his face to catch him peering down his nose at me.  But, his eyes were soft; a hit of a smile playing on the corners of his mouth as he awaited my reply.

I felt a bit silly as I admitted, “I have no plans.  Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was – uh – wonderin’ if… ya know, if you’d maybe wanna catch dinner with me?”  Awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, a slight blush crept up from his neck to dust his cheeks.  It was utterly endearing.  He actually seemed anxious at the prospect of my refusal.  “The kids leave on Friday afternoon and Ford and I won’t be packing up until the following week, so I thought –”

“Of course, I’d love to,” I replied before he could somehow talk himself out of it.  “I’ll meet you here at 8:00 pm.”  Then, I stepped around him and headed to my car without another word.

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

When Saturday evening finally arrived, I spent an exorbitant amount of time fussing over my hair, makeup and outfit.  Checking the time every 15 minutes, the butterflies in my stomach seemed to be having a ticker tape parade.  Then, with half an hour to spare, I drove the path that would lead me to the disheveled shack in the middle of nowhere.

What I’d expected when I arrived was far from what I was actually presented with.  Instead of finding Stanley Pines in his normal attire, casually lounging on the ratty couch situated on the front porch, I was greeted with a dapper man in a proper suit holding a bouquet of flowers that appeared to be hand picked.  

Parking my vehicle, I was startled when Stan moved with impressive speed to make it to my door before I could open it myself.  Tucking the flowers under one arm, he fumbled with the handle until it popped open and I gawked at him in confusion.

“Hey, don’t look so shocked,” he mumbled as he offered me a hand, which I gingerly took.  “I can clean up semi-decent when the mood strikes.”  

Speechless, I took the offered bouquet and allowed him to lead me toward the shack.  But, words continued to fail me as we entered, due to the sight before me.  

Someone had taken the time to thoroughly clean.  The shack was spotless, from ceiling to floor and a pleasant aroma wafted toward me from the kitchen.  

Someone had helped him arrange this.  And, since the twins had departed the day prior, that only left one person.  However, I knew better than to give Stanley’s twin brother any credit in this matter.

“I hope you don’t mind staying in,” he hedged, shifting his eyes toward me to gauge my reaction.

“Of course not.  What smells so good?”

“Um, well –” he took the flowers from my loose grip and popped them into a drinking glass filled with water on the kitchen counter, “–chicken parmesan…?”

The uncertainty in his voice earned a giggle from me as he escorted me to the kitchen table.  Everything had already been set up and served on mismatched dishware.  There were two long stem candles placed in the middle of the display, flickering a soft glow on the meal that, indeed, resembled chicken parmesan.  Silently thanking Ford for the valiant effort, I took a seat in front of one of the placements with a smile that I was certain resembled that of a lovesick teenager.

What was all this?  Why had Stan gone through all the trouble when he could have easily taken me to Greasy’s Diner?  Why had he even asked me to dinner in the first place?  Most of our previous interactions had been brief and surface level.  An intimate setting, such as this, begged familiarity or the promise of it.  Or – or maybe I was reading far too much into a kind gesture?  

I was suddenly pulled from my inner contemplation when Stan yanked the other chair from the table and plopped down across from me.  He seemed a bit stiff and awkward and he reached for the bottle of red table wine and poured himself a tall glass before scooching the bottle toward me.  Taking his lead, I poured myself a glass as well and attempted to settle in.  

Dinner was, surprisingly, easy and carefree.  Stan proved to be an excellent conversationalist and had fantastical stories that kept me on the edge of my seat during the duration.  Soon, I found myself pouring my third glass of wine and my inhibitions were being softened around the edges as my smiles and giggles materialized with ease.  

“Ya gettin’ tipsy there, doll?”  Waggling his eyebrows, he tipped the wine bottle toward me before taking a swig directly from it.  

“I could ask you the same question,” I countered, taking a larger gulp than was necessary from my glass.  Another giggle passed my lips as Stan lowered his glasses to peer at me from above the rims.  Suddenly stunned by his beautiful eyes, I covered my mouth with the back of my hand and averted my gaze.  

“Why did you ask me to dinner?”  The words tumbled from my mouth before they'd even fully formed in my mind and the humiliation crept up from my chest to burn my cheeks.  I wanted to take them back – stuff them back down my throat and swallow them whole.  But, it was too little, too late.

Luckily, though, the wine had kicked Stan’s cockiness into high gear and he was more than willing to explain.

“You’re cute,” he stated simply, running a large hand through his hair.  “I’ve also caught you making eyes at me.  Couldn’t let that opportunity pass by, now could I?”  Then, he laughed; a booming baritone that seemed to vibrate from his body, travel across the distance between us and tingle the tips of my fingers and toes.

I had no retort.  Mostly because the wine was coursing through my veins delightfully, but the truth was undeniable.  

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

“Me too, doll.”

The conversation continued to flow, easy and effortless.  Stan encouraged me to tell a story or two of my own when his reserve had finally been tapped.  He even appeared interested as I spoke instead of the slightly annoyed demeanor he always wore.

Eventually, though, the conversation grew scarce and the wine ran dry.  It was late and I became hyper aware of the fact that the two of us were completely alone in the shack.  Briefly, I wondered where Ford could be.  But, I hadn’t seen him all evening so it was probably safe to assume that he’d taken refuge elsewhere for the evening.  

And, that realization sent a rush of adrenaline directly to the base of my spine.

“I should probably get going.  I have plans to meet a friend for breakfast tomorrow.”

It was a poor excuse, but an excuse nonetheless.  As much as I wanted to spend time with Stan, I didn’t want to move too fast and squander my opportunity for a meaningful relationship.

“Oh, of course, yeah.  I’ve – uh – got important things to do too, ya know.”

Scrambling from the table, he approached me and offered me his hand in the same manner as when he’d met me at my car.  The endearment hit me hard and actually felt tears prick my eyes as I slipped my hand into his.  Seconds later, he had me to my feet and slyly tucked and hooked my arm around his in a guise to steady me as he led me toward the front door.  Even though I wasn’t anywhere near intoxicated, I allowed him this reprieve and reveled in the warmth of his body where we touched.

Soon – too soon – we were standing on the front porch of the shack, a warm breeze caressing my cheeks and tousling the loose strands of my hair.  This one singular moment was perfect and I would have been content for it to last forever.

That is, until I felt Stan’s gaze bore into me and I was compelled to tip my face upward to lock my eyes with his.  

His expression was soft and somehow sweet – expectant.  Something seemed to crackle in the atmosphere between us, drawing us toward one another like the pull of a magnet.  I was powerless to resist it, even if I’d wanted to, so I nearly melted when Stan gently cupped the back of my neck and coaxed me toward him.

His lips were firm yet yielding as they molded around my own.  Almost chaste in their gentleness and my heart swelled with thick emotion.  I returned the kiss with as much fervor as I could muster, slightly opening my lips to encase his before swiping my tongue very lightly on his bottom lip.  It was a promise of things to come… later.

Then, just as soon as the kiss began, it was over.  The warmth and pressure now a ghost upon my lips as he pulled back and released me.  I was slightly dazed as he chucked and slung one burly arm around my shoulders.  

“Don’t lose my number while I’m gone this fall, huh?”  The uncertainty in his voice made me smirk.  Did he actually think I’d forget about him?

“Impossible,” I replied, pointing toward the bumper sticker Mabel had plastered on the back of my car with the Mystery Shack’s telephone number in large, bold font.

“Good girl.”

The End.

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 40 | Morgan Rielly

A/N:  200, 505 words later, Morgan and Bee’s story has come to an end.  In all honesty, what can I say?  This has been an absolute whirlwind and I cannot believe how much love and support and engagement this story got.  Like...you guys have no idea.  I want to thank each and every single one of you for reading, commenting, liking, reblogging, and for sending in all your canon asks for this world I have created for Morgan and Bee.  This story would not have been as successful if it weren’t for you guys.  I hope you guys enjoyed their journey.  

Like I’ve been saying, there WILL be epilogues (right now there’s four) of varying lengths detailing/outlining their future.  Keep an eye out.

My new Fred story will be launched after the epilogues.  Check out my Masterlist for the title and quick description!

“You look beautiful Bumblebee,” Morgan said softly as he watched Bee adjust her dress in the mirror of the elevator, patting it down and straightening it out and running her hands through her hair one last time.  She looked so elegant and stylish and Morgan couldn’t believe how good she looked in just a black turtleneck and tweed dress.  

“You think so?” she asked absent-mindedly.  “I made sure the dress--”

“Bumblebee, you look great.  So elegant.  You always look great,” Morgan reiterated.  “You could have worn a burlap sac.” 

“Um, Larry Tanenbaum is going to be here.  I don’t think he’d appreciate me showing up in a burlap sac,” she quipped.  She had to take a day off work for this.  She was so lucky Mark was a hockey fan and let her do stuff like this without question – if it was anybody else, she probably wouldn’t be able to afford the luxury.  

“You’ve met Larry Tanenbaum before.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know he was Larry Tanenbaum.  I thought he was just some old guy.”

Morgan snorted.  “I think her prefers that, to be honest.”

Bee took a deep breath, trying to collect herself and her thoughts.  “I just…do you…do you remember New Year’s Eve?”

“When you asked me ‘Do you like me more with all the nice clothes?’” Morgan asked, knowing automatically what she was talking about.  That night still stood out to him, all this time later, as a night they had really progressed in their relationship and their trust in each other.  Bee had expressed insecurity about her new situation; Morgan helped boost her confidence to get her through it.  That confidence kept growing and growing.  Now, she stood before him as a self-assured woman, mostly confident in her place in the world.  Mostly, because nobody was ever truly fully confident.  But she had learned.  She grew.  She adapted.

Bee nodded her head.  “I was so…different back then.  I thought there would be two different Brionys.  I thought there was like, poor and rich Briony.  Cheap Briony and…you know, old Briony and new Briony.  I never considered that like…Briony – me – I can be a progression,” she expressed.  “I don’t have to be stuck to my old self.  I don’t have to be stuck to my old thoughts or old habits.  I can be a progression.”

“Of course you can,” Morgan nodded his head.  “You can be anything you want to be, Bumblebee.”

“I want to be a progression,” she reiterated once more, her voice more confident.  “I want to be Briony McTavish who was once nervous and thought she didn’t belong, but is now confident in meeting and interacting with people as rich and influential as Larry Tanenbaum.  I want to be Briony McTavish who is confident in making her way around the room.  I want to be Briony McTavish who is confident in her position, in her job…in her life.”

Morgan smiled down at her.  He couldn’t help but lean down and kiss her as she finished her thought.  “You’re the bee’s knees, Bumblebee,” he mumbled against her lips.

Before Bee could say anything else, the elevator pinged and the doors opened, and John and Aryne appeared on the other side.  John, like Morgan, was wearing a smart suit, holding Jace in his arms who was sporting baby jeans and cardigan style top.  Aryne wore a beautiful wrap style dress, covered somewhat by a spit-up towel resting on her shoulder.  John’s and Aryne’s faces lit up when they realized Morgan and Bee were in the elevator.

“Hey strangers,” Aryne smiled.

“Hey Captain,” Bee winked, causing John to smile from ear to ear.  “Have you gotten used to it yet?” she asked.

“No chance,” he shook his head.  “My dad started sobbing on the phone when I told him.  Mom too.”

“Looks like the investment in those Leafs sheets paid off, huh?” Morgan smiled at John.

“You have no idea, buddy.”

They rode the elevator up together to the Platinum Club, where Bee assumed Kyle, Brendan, Mike, and Larry were all already waiting for their arrival.  Larry and Brendan had arranged the lunch so that the leadership core – captain John, and alternate captains Morgan, Auston, and Mitch – could talk about the expectations they had for the team this season, their leadership roles, what they envisioned for the team and their futures with the Leafs.  After their lunch – and what Bee assumed would be a relaxed afternoon – the rest of the team was coming for a cocktail and hors d’oeuvres reception.  

The season began tomorrow.  There was an excitement in the air that Bee couldn’t describe.  

When the doors opened, Bee could see Brendan Shanahan, wine glass already in hand, speaking with someone that looked extremely familiar.  As everyone exited the elevator and approached him with smiles on their faces, Bee’s breath hitched in her throat when she realized who it was: Masai Ujiri.

John greeted Brendan first, who pretended to ignore him playfully in favour of paying attention to Jace, cooing at him and pinching his cheeks like he was Jace’s grandpa.  Brendan gave warm hugs to Aryne and Morgan, who then went on to greet Masai Ujiri like it was no big deal, before focusing his attention on Bee.  “How’ve you been, Bee?”

“Good, thank you,” she smiled warmly.  “Thank you for having us here, Brendan.”

Brendan moved to gesture towards Bee as he faced Masai.  “Mr. Ujiri, this is Briony McTavish,” Brendan introduced them as they shook each other’s hand.  “She’s part of the Maple Leafs family.  Her partner is our assistant captain Morgan Rielly and she’s a junior financial analyst at Scotia--”

“Briony McTavish…Briony McTavish!  The girl who wrote me a thank you note,” Masai smiled at her warmly.  “That’s a good practice you know – thank you notes.”

“Oh, thank you sir,” Bee replied nervously.  She thought there was no way that, after everything Masai went through this summer, he’d remember her silly little thank you note over everything else.  This was a man who helped the Raptors win a championship; a man who was one of the focal points of a parade attended by over two million people; a man who finally brought a championship to Toronto – a feat not accomplished since the 1990s.  There was nothing special about her, but everything special about him, and he was the one remembering her thank you note.

“It was the only one I received,” he winked.  That explained it, she thought, although she still didn’t believe it.  She was convinced this was one big elaborate joke.  “I put it up in my office on a bookshelf.  The art of writing one is being lost and I think you’re the one who’s going to bring it back, Ms. McTavish.”

She laughed, still nervous but trying to calm down.  She had to remember what she just said in the elevator.  She could be confident.  She could fit.  “I was just trying to be polite after you gave us the tickets to the playoff game,” she tried to explain herself – as if she needed to.  “I don’t need to tell you that Raptors tickets weren’t easy to come by so I just wanted to thank you.”

“I know!  And any girl who writes a thank you note is one worth keeping,” he winked at Morgan, elbowing him playfully.  “Did you have a good summer, Morgan?”

“Oh, yes sir,” Morgan nodded his head.  “Briony graduated with her Master’s in Financial Economics from U of T, and we went back to Vancouver for two weeks.  Even spent some time up at a cottage.”

“A Master’s in Financial Economics?  Congratulations, Briony.  That’s quite an achievement,” Masai commented.  

“Thank you sir.”

“Are you excited for the upcoming season?”

“Very much so,” Bee and Morgan said at the same time, causing Masai and Brendan to laugh.  

“We have a gift for you once Mitch and Auston get here,” Masai revealed, turning towards Brendan who smiled and nodded his head once.  “I think you boys will be very excited.  A gift from us at the Raptors, if you will.”

Once Auston, Mitch, and Steph arrived, the waiters and waitresses began bringing out charcuterie boards as appetizers and decorated the tables with more wine bottles and even champagne.  After some chitchatting, Masai left the room and re-entered holding a ball.  It was a championship ball, he explained, from one of the Raptors’ games against Golden State.  Used during one of the championship games.  He was giving it to the Leafs as a gift.  To motivate them.  To drive them.  To let them know that they could achieve that success too.  That with hard work, they would be rewarded too.  The boys went nuts for it.  They were calm, but Bee could tell they loved every minute of it and were silently freaking out.  They held the ball in their hands so delicately, as if the ball would break.  They decided that they’d give the ball to the player of the game for every game they won.  Babcock would start it off.  Then the player would choose the next.  Motivation.  Drive.  Achievement.  Reward.  

Eventually Masai had to leave, which was the cue for everybody to sit down at the table and formally begin their lunch.  Bee ordered the pistachio and sunflower crusted lamb shank.  The waitress poured her a glass of wine and chilled champagne.  Once all the food came, there was a toast.

“To the MLSE organization,” Larry began the toast, holding his champagne glass up.

“To the leadership core,” Brendan said after him.

“To the Toronto Maple Leafs hockey club,” Kyle followed.

“To the best administration currently running a hockey club,” Mike Babcock followed.

“To the greatest fans in the NHL,” John said.

“To home,” Aryne said.

“To Scotiabank Arena,” Steph said.

“To Hall and Oats blasting through the speakers,” Mitch said.

“To a second home,” Auston said.

“To the greatest hockey city in the world,” Morgan said.

Everybody looked at Bee.  She took a deep breath.  “To the Toronto Maple Leafs family,” she said. 

Brendan and Kyle smiled.

***

Trying to seem so classy with that dress…everyone knows you’re trash!

That dress looks so good on you!  

U caption that pic ‘family’ but everyone from Aryne Tavares to Brendan Shanahan knows ur fake and only with Mo for the money.  Can’t believe they invited u and u had the audacity to show up!  Are they really ur family when u had to push ur way in?

Cute caption, cute photo <3 I’m so jealous of you.

You’re just showing off now.  We know you’re a WAG.  Get over yourself honey!

Notice that ur beside Jennifer Spezza and one person away from Aryne instead of being right beside her like u always are…I bet u guys already had a falling out.  She probably saw right through ur lies.

Do you really have to force Mo to cling on to you like he does in every photo?  It makes you look so desperate for attention.

Hi Bee you look very nice I bet ur happy there’s no more Cassie!!!!!

Did you buy that dress yourself or did you make Mo buy it for you?

Why didn’t the wags take a big group pic?  R u guys not getting along?

***

Bee’s cheeks were flushed red from the wine all the way back home.  She was getting antsy in the back of the taxi, but she knew she had to keep her cool.  Morgan, for his part, was also antsy.  They had been around people all day, and while he enjoyed their company, there was nothing he longed for more than to be alone with his girlfriend.  

Bee had met many new faces that night, and perhaps the friendliest – at least the faces she spent the most time with – were new Leaf Jason Spezza’s four daughters, all who were clamouring for Bee’s attention.  Morgan would watch as she interacted with them, complimenting them on her dresses and following them around the venue hand-in-hand, approaching various people, and he couldn’t help but smile.  When the entire group posed for a picture, Lucia even clung on to Bee’s leg.  She was asleep in Jason’s arms by the end of the night, which was good since she probably would have cried if she saw Bee leave.  

When the taxi finally dropped them off, they walked hand in hand into their building and up the elevator to their apartment in silence.  Bruce greeted them at the door, meowing happily at his owners’ return.

“Hi Brucey,” Bee cooed as she bent down to pick him up, cradling him against her chest.  “Did you miss us, Brucey boy?”  Another loud meow escaped him, and Bee chuckled.  She heard Morgan set his keys down.  “We missed you too Brucey!”

Morgan bent down slightly to kiss Bruce’s head, and Bruce raised his own head to smell Morgan and boop him with his cold wet nose.  “I think Brucey should get a treat for not tearing apart a curtain while he was alone.”

Bee chuckled.  “That’s a good idea.  I’ll grab one for him.”

“I’ll be in the bathroom.”

As Morgan made his way to their ensuite, Bee quickly gave Bruce a treat before retreating back into their bedroom.  She stood in front of their armoire, looking at herself in the mirror.  Her hair was still perfectly curled, thankfully.  And her body was still flushed.  She had the liquid confidence of the wine still coursing through her, and she knew she needed to act on it.

“Mo, baby?” she called out as she heard the water from the faucet stop.  “Can you come help me with my dress?”

There was silence from the bathroom before she heard the door open.  She was taking off her earrings, watching him through the mirror as he walked over to her slowly, eyeing her up and down.  “Your dress?” his voice was low.

“Do you think you can help me take it off?” she asked.

She watched as Morgan stopped all movements momentarily before understanding what she was implying.  “I can do that.”

“Okay,” she smiled at him through her reflection in the mirror.  “Go sit on the bed.”

He did as he was told, sitting at the foot of the bed, his white shirt and suit pants still worn tight on his body.  She took her time making her way over to him, eventually standing right in front of him, between his legs, as she looked down on him.  “Did you have fun today?” she asked, resting her hands on his shoulders.  

“Of course I did,” he said, his voice low as he felt her begin to massage his neck and shoulders.  “Did you?”

She nodded her head.  “I can’t believe I got to meet Masai.”

He smiled.  “I can’t believe he gave us a ball.”

“Maybe I’ll write him another thank you note.”

Morgan giggled slightly, running his hands along the backs of her legs as she continued to massage his shoulders.  “You’re so good, Bumblebee,” he whispered, putting his hands over hers.  “I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have landed you, you know that?”

Bee smiled at him.  The warmth of his hands overs hers was so comforting.  “You wanna unzip me?”

Morgan nodded his head.  Bee turned around so her back was towards him, and she felt the fabric of her dress shift as he undid the top button and zipped all the way down.  He made sure to be gentle.  To take his time.  When she turned back around to face him, he peeled it off her.  She was wearing a skin tight black turtleneck underneath – the next thing he had to deal with – but as he pushed the fabric past her hips and it fell to the floor, it revealed a lingerie set and garter holding up her pantyhose.  

There was a sharp intake of breath.  “You had this on the entire time?” he asked, his voice low.

“Mhm,” she nodded her head, the smallest chuckle escaping her.  

“The entire day?”

“It’s not like there was any opportunity to change.”

Morgan bit his lip, taking in the black lace panties and pantyhose before him.  “Jesus, Briony.”

“You like?”

He looked up at her, playfully rolling his eyes at her question.  “Come on.”  His hands wandered around her hips and the lace covering them.  His fingers hooked into the hemline momentarily, feeling her skin there, before unhooking and continuing their wanders.  “I am so.  Fucking.  Lucky,” he mumbled to himself, feeling the curve of her ass.  “Can I take off your sweater?”

“Of course.”

Again, he took his time.  His hands traveled from her hips to her stomach as he leaned forward and began kissing her there, dragging his tongue along her skin as he pushed the fabric up and over her breasts.  It wasn’t until the sweater was tugged off, leaving her curled hair a bit dishevelled, that Morgan took in the lace push-up bra – obviously matching – that she was wearing.  “Jesus fucking Christ Briony.”

She bit her bottom lip.  He was already going to go crazy.  “Relax, baby.”

“How can I?”

“Shhhh…” she put her finger over his lips.  “Relax.  Let me take care of you.”

“Let me take care of you,” he grabbed at her ass.

“You liked what I did in Kelowna, right?” Bee asked, her voice holding the slightest amount of nervousness.  The Adam’s apple in Morgan’s throat bobbed as he nodded his head.  “Let’s change the rules a bit.”

“How so?”

“Touch me this time.”

Morgan’s heart stopped beating.  A low, hearty chuckle escaped from him as Bee turned away from him.  “Oooh, Briony…”

Bee began to sway her hips back and forth slowly, not wanting to wait any longer.  She placed her hands on his thighs, steadying herself, before moving forward to shove her breasts in his face.  Almost immediately, he licked and bit the skin above her breasts before she quickly pulled away.  Turning around, she swayed again, feeling Morgan’s hands squeezing her ass.  She looked over her shoulder at him, winking.  “Better this time now that you can touch me?”

Morgan didn’t answer; he was like a man transfixed.  As Bee continued to dance, she heard him unbuckle his belt.  She flipped her hair over her shoulder again to look at him.  He was pushing his suit pants down hastily, trying to free his cock from his underwear.  “Need some help?”

“Keep dancing,” he ordered.  

A shiver ran up Bee’s spine.  She did as she was told, moving her body sensually, gathering her hair in her hands or flipping it over her shoulder.  When she finally turned around again, she saw Morgan with his cock in his hands, his pants down around his ankles.  She couldn’t help but smile.  “Couldn’t wait, could you?”

“Not when you’re dancing like that,” he admitted.  “You have no idea what you do to me, Briony.”

Eyeing his hardening cock in his hands, Bee smirked.  “Oh, I think I do.”

“Be a good girl and keep dancing,” he said, using his free hand to grab at her hip.  

As she continued to dance, they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other.  Eventually, she leaned forward to kiss him, and began to unbutton his dress shirt.  She pushed it off his shoulders, but instead of throwing it across the room, she kept it in her hands.

“What’re you--”

“It’s not your jersey, but I guess it’ll do,” she said as she draped it over herself, slipping her arms through the sleeves to wear it.  She ran her fingers through her hair before posing for him playfully.

Morgan chuckled lowly, throwing his head back as he continued to stroke himself.  “You’re a little minx, you know that?  A fucking tease.”

“You fucking love it though,” she said with a devilish smirk.  She replaced his hand with hers on his cock and knelt in between his legs, using her free hand to scratch down his thigh.  “Now let me be a good girl and suck your cock.”

“With pleasure,” he wiggled his eyebrows.  

She gave him one last look before taking him in her mouth, twirling her tongue around the tip as she heard him grunt.  She bobbed her head up and down, taking him deeper into her throat each time.  Morgan brought his hand towards her and gathered her hair, tugging on it slightly so he could get a better look.  “You look so sexy with my shirt on you,” he mumbled, inhaling sharply as she took him deep.  “And with my cock in your mouth.”

“Does it look good with the black lingerie?” she asked quickly.

“Fuck yes.”

“Good.  Because this is all for you,” she said, licking the underside of his cock before kissing the head playfully.  “All for you.  Always.”

Morgan pushed her head down so she could take more of him down her throat.  She moaned in response, looking up at him with her beady eyes, causing him to throw his head back and close his eyes so he wouldn’t cum in her mouth right then and there.  As she sucked him off, his breathing got heavier, his chest heaving more and more.  Eventually, he felt his head hit the back of her throat, and his hips bucked at the sensation.  “Briony…”

“Cum down my throat, baby.”

“N-No--”

“Please Mr. Rielly, I want to taste you so bad,” she begged.

“Briony--”

“I wanna be your good girl Mr. Rielly.  Please please please,” she begged before taking him deep into her throat again. 

Morgan huffed, unable to say anything else, too hot and bothered to deny her what she wanted to do.  The second she gagged slightly and he felt his cock hit the back of her throat, he was gone.  The noise that escaped him was guttural as he felt himself shoot his load down her throat.  Bee sucked every last drop from him greedily, keeping her eyes on him as he locked eyes with her.  He felt like the luckiest guy alive – he knew he was the luckiest guy alive.

“C’mere,” Morgan huffed, pulling her up by her arms so she was now sitting on his lap.  They gave each other sloppy kisses before Morgan bit his way down to her neck and breasts.  “You wanna be a good girl?”

“Yes.”

“I asked if you want to be a good girl,” he repeated.

“Yes,” she said louder.  “Yes Mr. Rielly.”

“Then be a good girl and make yourself wet on my thigh,” he practically demanded, gripping the flesh on her thighs and ass.  

Bee looked at him with wide eyes.  She said nothing more – instead, she began grinding against his thigh, keeping eye contact with him as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.  His hands stayed firmly gripped on her hips, and the feeling of her hot pussy rubbing against his thigh got Bee all hot and bothered.  Her breathing became more erratic, and whimpers left her mouth as her body flushed with heat.  

“I love you,” she mumbled between heavy breaths, her voice sweet but barely audible as she kept rocking back and forth.

“What’s that?”

“I love you, Morgan,” she said, only slightly louder.

Morgan smiled softly.  It was an intimate moment that brought a warmth to him that he wasn’t expecting.  “I love you too, baby,” he said, his voice equally as sweet as hers was.  

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she continued.

“You’re my whole world,” he responded with the words he always followed with whenever she said that line.  Kissing her passionately, he moved his hand to start rubbing at her clit.

A whimper left her as her lips left his.  “Fuck,” she sighed out.  “I’m so close, Mr. Rielly.”

“Make my thigh wet baby, come on.  Be a good girl,” he encouraged her.

It wasn’t long before her body started shaking and she began screaming his name out.  Morgan could feel her juices on his thigh, and at the sound of her screaming his name, he couldn’t take it easy anymore.  Bee barely finished riding out her orgasm before he picked her up in his arms, kicking off his pants bunched at his feet.  

“Mo – baby --” Bee tried to figure out what he was doing as he picked her up.  “Morgan, what are you d--”

He practically threw her onto the bed.  “Spread your legs for me,” he ordered, his white shirt still draped over her body.  

Bee did as she was told.  Morgan wasted no time diving between her legs and moved the lace material of her thong to the side to eat her out like he was a man starved and she was the last meal on Earth.  Sucking at her clit, he brought his arms up to keep her hips down so she couldn’t squirm like she usually did – again, putting her pleasure in his complete control.  As she had barely come down from her previous orgasm, it took no time at all for her to cum again, covering his face in her juices.  He lapped up every last bit as she could barely squirm from the pressure he was exerting on her hips – she grabbed and tugged at his hair instead, needing to release some pressure elsewhere.  

“Again,” Morgan mumbled against her lips.  

“Mo--”

“Again.”

“Morgan, I c – I – oh shit,” she swore as she felt him push two fingers inside of her.  “Mo-Morganmorganmorgan,” she cursed him.

“Be a good girl, Briony,” his tone was strict with her.  “You got to taste me.  I want to taste you again and again.”

“Mo--”

“Are you going to be my good girl?”

She huffed, her chest heaving.  “Y-Yes,” she nodded her head, her voice soft.  “Yes.  I’ll be your good girl Mr. Rielly.”

Morgan continued lapping at her, curling his fingers inside her.  With only one arm holding her down now, she could squirm a bit more easily, but it was still tough and her pleasure was still mostly in his control.  Between his tongue and his fingers, Bee quickly came again…and again…and again…and—

She began to lose count.  At times it felt like multiple; at times it felt like just long and continuous.  Her throat was already dry from how much she had screamed Morgan’s name, huffing and puffing and trying to gain some semblance of sanity.  “Mr. Rielly – Mr. Rielly please, I want…I want…”

“What do you want?”

“I want your cock inside me,” she breathed out.

“Do you?” he asked between licks, ignoring her request.  

“Yes.  Yes…please Mr. Rielly.  I want to feel you buried deep inside of me,” she was on the verge of begging – what she knew he wanted her to do.  “I want you to fill me up with your big cock.”

Morgan practically manhandled her as he flipped her over on her hands and knees on the bed, spanking her ass and causing her to yelp out.  It had been long enough – after eating her out – that he was able to get an erection again, so he grabbed his cock and teased her entrance momentarily before filling her up, causing her to cry out.  

“Fuuuuuuuuuck Mr. Rielly,” she breathed, looking over her shoulder.  

“That feel good?”

“Your cock always feels good, Mr. Rielly.”

She felt him tug at her hair and pull her up to his chest.  Almost immediately, his free arm snaked around her body, his fingers attaching themselves to her clit again.  His other arm held her up and cupped her breast through the lace of her bra.  “You like it when I fuck you from behind?” he asked, biting down on the skin of her neck.  

“I love it,” she breathed out.  “Fuck Mr. Rielly, you fuck me so good.”

“Your pussy always feels so good for me,” he whispered in hear ear, pounding in and out of her.  “Always such a good girl for me.”

“I always want to be your good girl Mr. Rielly,” Bee breathed out.

Bee felt the waves of pleasure wash over her again as Morgan pushed her head gently back down onto the mattress and continued to fuck her, his grunts and expletives and mumbles of her name adding fuel to the already over-stimulated experience she was having.  She lost count at how many orgasms she’d gone through.

When she was least expecting it, Morgan pulled out.  She felt an emptiness that she didn’t like.  She wined at the loss and looked behind her.  “What are y--”

Morgan manhandled her again, flipping her over so she was flat on her back, and used his hands to pry open her legs, moving in between them.  She wrapped them tightly around his torso before he slipped into her again, her breasts almost spilling out of the lace bra.  His dress shirt still adorned her body and made him crazy with desire.  Before she could wrap her arms around his shoulders, he took one and pushed up the sleeve, finding the Cartier bracelet he’d given her.  He placed a delicate kiss on the skin of her wrist right above where the bracelet was before putting it around his shoulder.  

He leaned down and smothered her with kisses as he pumped in and out of her.  As Bee’s whimpers and moans got louder, he looked her in the eye.  “I love you Bumblebee,” he mumbled, using her nickname for the first time in this sort of setting.  “I love you so much.”

Bee brought one hand to cup his face.  “I love you too, baby.”

“I’m always gonna be yours, Bumblebee.”

“And I’m always gonna be yours.”

He made sure they were looking each other in the eye as he came inside of her, her eyes eventually closing from the pleasure of feeling his hot cum inside her walls.  Slowly, he collapsed on top of her, trying to catch his breath as his body engulfed hers.  With her legs still wrapped around him, he settled onto her.  

She began running her fingers through the tufts of his hair at the nape of his neck.  “I love you forever, Morgan,” she whispered in his ear.  

***

Bee felt like she was James Bond as she manoeuvred through the hallways at Scotiabank Arena trying not to get caught in enemy territory.  There was media and cameramen everywhere because it was the start of the season, the home oepneer, and although many didn’t know who she was, she was already wearing her Rielly jersey.  All it took was for one of them to snap a picture and she could see the blogs going crazy.

Not that it mattered.  What mattered more was the person she was going to meet.

“Hey sweetcheeks,” Tyler’s familiar voice echoed down the hall as Bee saw him walking with outstretched arms.  “Get over here.”

She practically skipped over to him, hugging him tightly in his workout clothes.  His arms wrapped around her tightly as he picked her up off the floor.  “I miss you,” she said as he set her down.  The hallways must have felt so familiar to him; except now, he was in opposing territory.  The visitors instead of the home team.

“I miss you too sweetcheeks,” he said, taking a look at her jersey.  “How angry would Mo get if I gave you a Senators jersey with my name on it?”

Bee snorted.  “It could go one of two ways.  He could burn it or he could ask me never to wear it in front of him.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Bee laughed as she shook her head.  He always had a witty comment or joke up his sleeve – it’s what she loved most about him.  “Have you settled yourself in Ottawa?  Do you have a place?”

“I do.  Near the Byward Market, actually.  It’s a bit far from the arena but it’s good to separate the two,” he informed her.

“Is your fridge stocked?”

“Yes mom,” he rolled his eyes.  “How’ve you been since your birthday?”

“I’ve been good.  There was a big team dinner last night and--”

“No, Bee,” he interrupted her, looking her in the eye.  “How have you been since your birthday?”

Bee took a deep breath.  She knew what he was really asking.  She should have been better prepared, because even though they spoke all the time over text, it was different than speaking to someone in person.  “I’ve been good, Tyler.  I mean it,” she said, grabbing his forearms to assure him.  “It was all…solved.  Without media fanfare, which was a miracle.  Brendan and Kyle are wizards.  It took a while for me to feel okay again, but I do now.  I don’t feel so…I don’t know, violated anymore.”

“I maintain what I said to you on the phone,” his tone was serious.  “If I need to murder someone in cold blood, I will.  They’ll never suspect it was me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she smiled.  “You watch too much true crime stuff, Tyler.”

“I’ve moved on to podcasts now.  All I have to do is listen.”

“I’m going to convince Morgan to go to Ottawa during the by-week.  We have the same one,” she changed the subject to something lighter.  “Would you be up for that?  Or have you already booked flights back home to Edm--”

“I’ll set up the spare bedroom now,” he said, nodding his head excitedly.  “I’ll go shopping for Egyptian cotton sheets.  I know how picky Mo is.  Little diva.”

She punched him in the arm.  “You are honestly the worst.”

“Morgan loves me.  I’ll have Trailer Park Boys on for him when you arrive.”

Bee hugged him again, burying her face in his neck.  To say that it was going to be weird seeing him in a Senators jersey, on the opposing team’s bench tonight was an understatement.  To her, he would always be a Maple Leaf.  It may not be that way for everybody else, but for her, that was the case.  “I’m going to miss having you around so much.  You don’t even know,” she mumbled.  

“I’ll always be here,” he said, squeezing her tighter.  “Remember what I told you.”

“I won’t feel pain if I never truly lose anything,” she recited.  

“Exactly.  And you’ll never lose me.”

***

“You wanna go back to mommy, Jace?” Bee looked down at the little baby in her arms, sucking on his pacifier and looking up at her with his big eyes.  She looked over to Aryne, who was ready for him.  “It would be a bit awkward for me to be holding the baby, especially if they pan to you after the announcement.”

“Definitely,” Aryne nodded, grabbing Jace and holding him against her chest.  “They’re going to release that video they filmed right after.  Everybody’s gonna realize a three week old baby knew about the captaincy before any of the media did.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” Bee winked, Aryne winking back at her.  

From beside her, Angie shuffled past Monique and Steph to take her seat in between Mason and Bee.  “I didn’t miss anything, did I?” she asked.  “The line for the washroom took forever.”

“You’re good.  They’re literally just about to start,” Bee said.

As if on cue, the lights dimmed.  Scotiabank Arena, packed to the brim with people, erupted in cheers and applause.  The pre-game ceremony began, with the arena MC narrating everything.  The entire team came out one by one as their names were called out.  People cheered for their favourites and clapped for everyone.  Once the regular players were completed, Bee knew it was time to announce the leadership core.

She looked over to Aryne.  “Are you ready?” 

“As ready as I can be,” she said, rocking Jace back and forth.  “This is the moment he’s been waiting his entire life for.”

“And now, your captains!” the arena MC belted out.  “Alternate captain, from Thornhill, Ontario…number sixteen, Mitch Marner!”

Bee could hear Steph scream a few people down, and looked over to her with a giant smile on her face.  Steph was filming it on her phone, jumping around giddily as his name was called.  Bee clapped and wooed, knowing that – despite an eventful summer of contract negotiations – Mitch had been dreaming about this his whole life too.  The crowd cheered loudly for him, thankful that the hometown boy stayed.

“Alternate captain, from Scottsdale, Arizona…number thirty-four, Aaaauuuustoooon Maaaatthews!”

Bee cheered as Auston skated onto the ice, raising his stick in appreciation of the fans cheering for him.  She knew it had been a tough couple of weeks for him – and Lord knows she gave him a piece of her mind too – but she was truly proud of him and what he had accomplished.  The most skilled player on the team, he was the central franchise player.

Her heart began to beat quicker knowing what was coming next.  She was trying not to get too emotional, especially because he had been an alternate captain for years now, but she couldn’t help it.  She was so proud of Morgan – her Morgan – and she couldn’t hold back.  She felt a stray tear fall down her cheek but wiped it away quickly.  

“Alternate captain, from Vancouver, British Columbia…number forty-four, Moooooooorgaaaaan Rielly!”

Bee screamed at the top of her lungs.  The arena cheered and applauded too, thankful that somebody like Morgan – one of their longest tenured players now – was named to this position.  A lot of people would have preferred him as captain – she knew that – but that didn’t matter to her.  What mattered was that he was recognized for his commitment to the team, for his leadership role during the tough years until now, for the responsibility he took for the defensive capabilities of the team.  He was happy with the alternate captain title.  He wore it with honour.  He wore it with pride.  He wore it with courage.  He wore it knowing that this team was a part of his heart a soul.  He wore it knowing that he was the foundation upon which everything else was built.  In some ways, in being the foundation, he was the most important part.  

She was so proud of him.  And loved him so much.  

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the twenty-fifth captain in franchise history.  From Oakville, Ontario…number ninety-one, Jooooohn Taaavares!”

Bee screamed at the top of her lungs again, as did Aryne, and the entire arena erupted in the loudest cheers of the night.  John Tavares.  25th captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs.  The hometown boy who came home.  In every account except for biological, her big brother.

There was nothing better.  

Bee thought about the last year.  She thought about how she met Morgan under mysterious circumstances.  She thought about how they took things slow at first, not wanting to put a label on it, because she put her schooling first and Morgan respected that.  She thought about cooking Thanksgiving dinner and Morgan telling her he couldn’t wait anymore and her agreeing.  She thought about the break-in.  About the girls rallying around her and helping her recoup everything and more.  She thought about Naz and Ashley letting her stay in their empty apartment.  Christmas.  Bumblebee.  Auston making out with her cupcakes.  She thought about landing her job at Scotiabank.  She thought about going to Vancouver for the first time, whale-watching and telling Morgan she loved him.  She thought about her mom dying; about the sense of relief that washed over her more than guilt or grief.  She thought about Valentines Day and Morgan’s birthday and giving her utmost trust to him in their most intimate of moments.  The slur.  Moving in with Morgan.  Game seven.  Holding Morgan as he cried.  She thought about the cottage, about graduation, about going to Vancouver for a second time and feeling at home.  She thought about Naz being traded, about holding baby Naylah in her arms at the hospital.  She thought about Tyler, about Jake, about Cassie.  She thought about visiting Aryne and holding baby Jace.

And that was all just the beginning.

As she looked out onto the ice at Morgan, standing solemnly for O Canada, she couldn’t help but feel excitement for what was to come.  She knew that whatever that was, they’d get through it together.  The highs and the lows.  The mountains and the valleys.  She wouldn’t have to experience anything alone anymore.  She wouldn’t have to go through life wondering if she’d be alone forever.  Instead, it was she and Morgan.  Against the world.  

Together.

She was ready.

[darker-soft-starker]

Can you do a Starker sugar daddy au where at first it’s only an arrangement to get people to stop trying to go with Tony, but eventually they both fall in love?

Sugarbaby!Peter x SugarDaddy!Tony starker au, fake/pretend relationship, misunderstandings, fluff

Peter couldn’t believe his eyes when he’d received the offer. 

At first he’d thought the very official looking Stark Industries email had been an expertly crafted fake, like those ones he sometimes gets from Paypal or whatever. It seemed too good to be true, but he’d traced it with Neds help and holy shit - it was an actual, verified email from a person at Stark Industries.

It was kind of ballsy of them, actually, answering his ad and asking for a personal meeting from their business email. What a move, clearly this person doesn’t care if their boss knows they’re looking to buy someones services. 

But whoever hhogan@starkindustries.com was, Peter was not about to turn down down the potential of a very generous offer, as it had been phrased. They were working at Stark Industries, they had to be making some kind of coin, right? Peter was just a poor guy, doing his best. 

When Peter had first put the ad up for a sugar daddy he’d been drunk and to be fair, MJ had dared him. And when he was drunk-dared by a goading MJ he can’t be blamed for his actions. So he posted it, telling the world that a sad twink needed a benefactor. He didn’t phrase it that way online, but that was essentially the vibe. 

Peter didn’t think anything of it, mostly got a couple of creeps messaging him about his profile pic, telling him how nice his mouth was and how they’d like to stuff their cocks in it. Honestly, he’d kind of forgotten all about it after the comments died down a couple of weeks later. Untll he’d received this email, that is. 

They’d made a time and a place to meet, some expensive looking restaurant in the Upper East Side, which, yikes, Peter only brave enough to order water in case the guy doesn’t want to go into an arrangement after all. He gets there and is directed to a private booth in the back, expecting to see some balding, overweight dude, lonely and looking for a bit of touch.

He doesn’t expect Tony fucking Stark himself sitting at the table, distractedly playing with his phone. Peter is so struck with confusion that when Tony looks up at him he loses higher brain function and stops moving, mouth falling open.

The man looks him up and down and cocks an eyebrow up, a smile lighting his face up. 

Peter had already prepared some things to say but what had come out of his mouth instead was:

“Mr. H. Hogan?”

Mortified, Peter had shaken himself and immediately tried to backtrack. “Wait! Wait, sorry, I know you - I mean, not, like personally or anything, obviously - I know you’re Tony Stark, everyone knows you’re Tony Stark. Who are - wait, am I in the right place?”

Tony had looked a little taken aback by his word vomit but eventually tells him yes, Peter is in the right place and that Hogan is his employee and the H stands for Happy. 

When Peter warily sits Tony explains to him over lunch and wine that he’s looking to hire someone that everyone will believe is his lover. He’s had a string of one-night stands and a handful of serious relationships, the last one ending in heartache. Then… there was everyone else. After Tonys’ last serious relationship had ended publicly it was apparently a licence for the shameless to assume his dick was hungry and up for grabs. 

It wasn’t, he said. He needed a cover.  

Tony frankly had had enough. There was no other reason, it was that simple. That’s what he’d told Peter anyway. He needed a buffer between the world and the people pawing at him.

With a flourish of his wrist Tony had provided a contract. Peter had read it over and it was simple: be where Tony wanted him to be, when he needed him to be, and dressed the part - and be exclusive - and Peter would be provided with a monthly compensation - along with bonuses.

With his rent six weeks behind Peter could barely refuse, eyes bulging at the figure. A monthly allowance of $5000, a driver service, all the bells and whistles. He’d signed the damn thing before he could even consider the consequences.

And at first, there were none. Tony took him to events, dressing Peter up in fine, expensive suits and parading him around on his arm. Peter got to drink pricey champagne and rub shoulders with the elite who cooed over their budding “relationship”. Tony took him out to dinner, out to shows, to the baseball, to functions. It was fun meeting new people and nice being spoiled for once.

However uncomfortable it made him to be in the public eye, the paparazzi got pictures of Peter and Tony looking utterly wrapped up in each other - holding hands, sharing kisses, looking adequately in love - and Peter got paid enough to start making a dent in his student loans. 

He kinda hadn’t expected Tony to be all that… likeable to be honest, when he’d signed the contract. He’d heard of the mans arrogance, of his snarky attitude. Going off their first meeting he’d thought they guy would be, like, tolerable at the very least, even if Peter had always admired his work from an outside perspective.

Turns out Peter was wrong. Like, really wrong. 

Because it turns out that Tony is… kind of amazing. The guy is smart and charming and a genuine fucking nerd. He’s generous (nearly to a fault) and tries to hide it. Don’t get Peter wrong, Tony is also a little asshole who drinks too much and works even more - but he’s such a good guy. He always makes sure Peter is comfortable with whatever they do, even if it’s holding hands, he tips waiters handsomely and lets Peter tinker around in his personal lab. He gives to charity, makes sure his employees get leave and bonuses and pays them deservingly, he’s progressive and treats Peter like a human being.

It’s not like Peter is in love with him or anything. He’s just super fond of the guy.

MJ rails him for it ad nauseum, telling him he’s getting too close, that he should remember he is an employee who, as stated in the contract, can be terminated at any time. 

Peter does remember, and if nothing else, it makes him value what time he does have with Tony. Makes him take his studies more seriously, never knowing when his funds are going to dry up. For an ad he placed while super drunk, it’s kind of the best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

He’s fond of the guy, so what? It’s fine.

One day he and Tony are out for lunch at some rooftop diner. Tony is talking about working on one of his latest inventions, some kind of medical tech. He seems really passionate about it, talking about it at length with such fervent enthusiasm and Peter sits there, captivated, nodding and listening, the food between them forgotten. He thinks he’s just being attentive and the topic is interesting.

But then a ray of sunlight hits Tony’s eyes in a way that make them look like whiskey and Peter’s stomach does a weird swoop and his heart tingles. 

Oh shit, he thinks.

Oh shit indeed.

It’s fine, Peter says to himself, multiple times a day. He’s had infatuations before - most never reciprocated - so, what’s the big deal? He’ll just ignore this one too.

Except… it’s hard. It’s hard to tell yourself not to feel romantically about a person when you get to kiss them and hug them and be by their side. Even if it’s only because he’s getting paid for it. 

But it was also clear that it was only an arrangement for Tony and that he didn’t feel anything beyond reluctant fondness for Peter. He never touched Peter when they were alone except for some almost fatherly shoulder pats, he never initiated any displays of affection unless he knew they were being photographed, didn’t ever seem as hopelessly enamoured with Peter in the same way Peter seemed to become with Tony.

Peter finds himself pulling away just a little bit all the same, giving more and more reasons to not meet up with Tony - because as much as it makes him happy to be around the man, it begins to make his heart hurt a little more every time they’re together, every time Tony brushes his lips against his, places a hand at the small of Peter’s back, knowing it’s only for show. It was great before, when Peter didn’t feel like this - but the knowledge that the guy he had feelings for only kissed him because he was paying Peter to be his fake boyfriend made him feel kind of gross.

It’s fine.

It’s fine, he tells himself, over and over. It’s fine, he thinks, when one day Tony is photographed with a strawberry blonde, a series of shots showing them arm in arm, Tony’s smiling fondly in a way he never did with Peter as she kisses Tony’s cheek. The headlines and the tags refer to Tony as a playboy and about his boytoy being dumped, about being back together with his ‘old flame’.

They look good together, Peter concedes, even if it feels like his chest is caving in and like he’s going to throw up. He just wishes Tony had told him beforehand that he was done with him. Setting his phone down on the bed, Peter stares out into his room listlessly and tries to process the fact that it’s over, but all he sees is the way that Tony has infiltrated his life. The laptop on his desk, a gift from Tony, the watch on his wrist, the jeans on the floor, the signed Reyes baseball on his shelf, all gifts from Tony. Even the phone he saw the pictures on was  given to him by Tony. It makes Peter feel wrong in his gut to have touches of the man in his personal intimate space when the guy didn’t even have the courtesy to give him the heads up that he was about to be publicly ‘dumped’ and humiliated.

He returns everything.

Tony must receive the hastily wrapped package with all of his spoils because he tries to call him the following day, Peter’s old cracked phone blinking to life. He ignores it and hangs out with Ned and MJ, wishing he lived closer to May so she could give him one of her healing hugs. His friends commiserate and help him get utterly fucking wasted that weekend, even as they call him a fucking dumbass. 

He wakes up on Sunday with a hangover and eighteen missed calls from Tony. The calls are followed by a series of texts, the contents going from confused, to concerned to downright stern and then concerned again. 

As he’s making himself breakfast and a coffee there is a knock on his door. When he opens it he sees a furious looking Tony, the bulging parcel that Peter had sent him under his arm.

“Oh, so you are alive,” Tony drawls, shouldering his way into Peter’s apartment. 

Peter curses his stomach for the butterflies when Tony brushes against him to get inside, telling himself to stop feeling anything as he closes the door behind them. 

“Mr. Stark - “

“What’s this about?” Tony says, setting the parcel on Peters tiny kitchen table and leaning against his counter. “Is this you returning my hoodies and CD’s? I mean in this case it’s a six-thousand dollar watch and jeans I’ll never fit into, but you get the gist.”

Peter leans against the opposite counter, mirroring Tony’s folded arms. He nods to the items and says, “I only thought it was appropriate, you know, considering.”

“Considering what, Petey?” Tony says, his face perplexed, even behind his shades. “You gotta fill me in, you know, communicate. What are we considering? If you were considering terminating your contract you should have just said so.”

Peter looks at him, narrowing is eyes. “Considering that you are with someone else and don’t need me anymore…? It’s fine, Tony, I just would have appreciated a heads up, is all.”

“I’m what?” Tony says, looking like his brain is doing a hard reset. “I’m what with who now?”

“The strawberry blonde? Paprika?”

“Pepper,” Tony corrects faintly.

“Pepper! That’s it. Her. Anyway, congrats, You uh, look great together.”

Tony tilts his head and considers Peter, the intensity of his stare making him squirm. 

“So, let me wrap this all up in a nice, little bundle and you tell me if I have it right, okay? You see some news article, think I’m seeing Pepper, so you decide to send back everything I ever bought you and not answer any of my calls. Is that it?”

Peter nods, tries to ignore his stupid heart trying to beat itself out of his chest to get to Tony.

“Yeah, that’s - that’s it. I mean, thank you for everything, Tony. It just doesn’t seem right to keep any of it.”

“Why?” Tony asks, stepping closer to Peter and pocketing his shades. “They’re yours, I want you to have them.”

Peter determinedly avoids the mans gaze by looking down at his feet, tapping one against the tiles. “It’s just not right. It doesn’t matter.”

“Look at me,” Tony says, and when Peter tilts his head up the man is a lot closer. “I’m not with Pepper, we’re just friends. You shouldn’t believe everything you read.”

“Oh.”

“And I would have appreciated you asking me before losing my number.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Peter repeats, rubbing at the ache in his chest with his hand. “I’m sorry, I should have asked, you’re right.”

“So… does that mean you’ll take your stuff back and answer my calls again? Maybe join me in Florence next weekend? I know a great place you’d like.”

The small, almost imperceptible hope in Tony’s voice makes Peter’s throat go tight as his stomach drops with what he’s about to say. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr. Stark. I don’t think we should do this - I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Tony frowns and steps even closer. “Is it about the press? I can shut down every single one of those if you give me, like an hour tops, maybe two if I have to buy out Murdoch as well.”

“It’s not the press.”

“Then what is it? What, are you bored?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Then what is it?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Peter whispers, looking down at his feet again as his eyes start to prickle. 

“Peter, if you’re leaving me out in the cold after six months that’s your choice, but I gotta know why.”

“It’s just,” he begins. “It’s - I thought I could handle it, but I can’t. I can’t handle feeling like this about you when everything you feel about me is in a contract. It’s not right for me to be in love with you when I’m being employed to pretend that I am.”

“You’re in love with me,” Tony says.

“I’m sorry, I know I wasn’t supposed to - “

Anything else he was going to say is cut off when Tony bridges the distance between them and presses his lips to Peters in a soft kiss. 

“Well thank god,” Tony says. “Otherwise that would have made my feelings for you kind of awkward.”

“Your…huh?”

“I probably should have fired you the moment I fell for you? I don’t know, the logistics are kind of weird, but we both know I’m selfish and a little morally bankrupt, so. I didn’t. But you fired yourself anyway.”

“Huh?” Peter says again, a little dazed by the turn of events. “Am I still asleep? Did you say you have feelings for me?”

“Okay, you are not a morning person,” Tony says, taking one of Peter’s hands and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss it. “Yes. It’s kind of embarrassing but apparently you love me too, so, I guess we’re both losers.”

The burst in his heart propels him forward to kiss Tony again, wrapping his arms around the mans neck. 

“So,” Tony prompts when they pull apart some time later, breathless. “Florence, yes or no?”

“Yes, but no more payments.”

A kiss.

“Fine. But I still get to buy you things.”

Another kiss.

“… fine.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Loser.”

[bellemorte180]

If I Die Before I Wake: Chapter One

Vengeance is defined as punishment or retribution for a wrong committed against another. A single curse could derail and weaken the most powerful being in the world. A single massacre could change the entire world in one go; but it could centuries to execute the perfect vengeance.

A/N: This is an OLD story of mine from like two years ago. I find the writing a bit..rough but I figured, what the hell. Post it anyway. 

Chapter One:

Mystic Falls

April 2010

Damon Salvator strutted across the parking lot of the Mystic Falls high school. Cars were parked in spaces and shouts could be heard echoing from inside the gym. Sports. Even in a town littered with the supernatural, pastimes such as high school sports were still cultivated as a religion. In the century that Damon had been alive, it made him smirk that such things had not changed. However, what has changed was the fact that Katherine fucking Pierce was now locked in the tomb that Damon once sought to free her from.

Irony really could be a bitch.

Damon couldn't lie and say that he wasn't enjoying these turn of events. He despised that bitch. Spending a hundred and forty-six years in love with her just to learn that she wasn't in that tomb at all, really felt like a gut punch. The moment he realized that she was gone and he had been lied to for the entirety of his vampiric existence was hard to swallow. Damon was proud and Katherine wounded that pride, so now she was stuck in that tomb and he had the mind to let her rot down there for the rest of her eternity.

What was it exactly that Anna had said? That Katherine had known exactly where he was the entire time? Did she know that where he was in the fifties? Did she know that he was imprisoned at Whitmore? A wave of fresh hot anger shot through him. If he wouldn't be trapped inside the tomb alongside her, Damon had the mind to spend the rest of the time torturing her just like he had been during those times. He might have forgiven her lies, if she had strolled in and let him out of that cell. Maybe he could have even saved Enzo. Maybe things would have been different.

“I must say, that was really impressive.” Damon paused and turned. A tall woman leaned against a dark Ford Escape with her arms crossed. She had short brown hair that flared out at her chin and light hazel eyes. She wore a reddish brown leather jacket with tight jeans and boots that went up to her knees. Damon couldn't help but admit that she was attractive despite the fact that she was clearly a vampire; and a very old one. Older than him and older than Katherine; so old that Damon didn't even sense her at first. “Imprisoning Katerina Petrova in the tomb.”

“I don't know what your talking about.” If Damon hadn't been on his guard before, he was now. Only few people called Katherine by her given name and those who did, were around when she was first turned. He learned of it briefly when he was human and called her that once-it didn't end well for him. She left him and went straight to his brother's bed. She hated that name and therefore, Damon never called her it again. However, if this vampire would willing call Katherine by her given name, then this vampire was far more dangerous than the one he just imprisoned. “And who are you?”

“Rose-Marie, but my friends call me Rose.”

“Well Rose-”

“We're not friends.” Rose cut him off with a smile. She pushed off the Ford Escape and strolled over to him slowly. Cheers echoed in the background as one of the teams scored something, causing the crowd to go wild. Rose stood in front of him directly and his first thought was to attack; but he knew he couldn't win. Perhaps if Stefan was there, the two of them together could take her down but the closer she got, he could feel the age vibrating off of her. That was the thing with vampires, the young ones could always tell who their elders were. “I'm here to offer a warning. He is coming and it would be best if you stayed out of his way. He may even give you a gold star if you leave the first doppelganger in the tomb.”

Suddenly Damon felt himself panic. Elena. His brother's girl. The girl who he couldn't help but feel something for. She was everything he wished Katherine had been and wanted her to be. However, just like the rotting bitch, Elena preferred his perfect saint of a brother. He wondered if Elena would like Stefan if she knew what he was really like when he lost control. Damon didn't know what answer he wanted because neither would be good for him. Either way, he wanted nothing to happen to her. He wanted Elena alive.

“Who is coming?”

“Klaus.” Rose flashed off before Damon could ask who in the hell was Klaus. He stood there completely frozen, unsure exactly what he should do. All he knew was that he was going to have to discover who Klaus was and what he could possibly want with Katherine; and how that related to Elena.

He didn't hear where Rose flashed off to; not over the screams of the crowd. He didn't see her enter the gym or weave through the crowd and leave at the other side of the building. It wasn't until she reached the town square that she slowed to a human pace. She closed her eyes and came to a standstill. It was on a whim that Trever wanted to come here. She was hesitant because it was Klaus's birth place; but she would never second guess Trever again. After five hundred years of running, it was about to end. Rose reached into her bag, pulled out her cellphone and dialed one of her contacts. Perhaps one day soon she would be able to see her friend again.

*

New Orleans

April 2010

Klaus stood over the balcony watching the endless parade flow past. Some celebration that Klaus didn't care enough to participate in. Once upon a time he relished in the flow and life that always was present in the city; his city. He built this town from the ground up and he built it for her. After shoving the white oak stake into the heart of his father, they were free. They no longer had to run and they decided to settle. She always wanted a home so he built her a city.

She loved Paris; so he ensured that the french were prevalent here. She loved color and life and exotic foods. She loved magic and the raw darkness of it. This was everything she could have ever wanted. Klaus would have laid the world at her feet if she had asked. She never did, only ever wanting him but he always knew that he could never be enough for her. And now he was alone. Living nothing more than a shadow of a life for the last one hundred and forty six years.

Klaus continued to listen to the cheering of the party goers below. He could smell the alcohol and the spices from the creole dishes. This had been his home and now he only came back once a year; except that time in the fifties and sixties where he secluded himself from the world. This was a time that he cherished and would lavish the most important person of his existence with gifts and his affections. An anniversary of when he became hers. Now, he came to mourn her. To allow that hallow hole in his chest to take center. He allowed himself to fully feel it.

He gripped the railing of the balcony that overlooked the street until his knuckles turned white. His eyes closed and he breathed deeply. He let the pain flow through him and he tried to imagine her smile; how she laughed and the very first moment he laid eyes upon her-over a thousand years ago.

That memory burned inside of him.

“This isn't healthy.” Klaus turned and saw the figure of his protégé leaning against the doorway. His arms were crossed and his shoulder rested upon the wood. Normally, vampires congregated to his home for the lavish and fantastic parties he threw. But the supernatural community knew by now that this week, the manor was draped in black and no one was to enter. “The whole of New Orleans knows why you're here. Some of them are afraid that you are going to go off the deep end like you did last year.”

“Marcel, those witches-”

“Did nothing more than simply be witches.” Marcel argued. “They practiced magic. Now, you know I have that rule that witches cannot practice magic without my permission. They did wrong but to massacre their entire coven?”

“It wouldn't be the first time I annihilated an entire coven.”

“I know. I was there in 1914. I helped you and watched you dagger Kol when he was collecting those dark objects.” Marcel replied but shook his head. “Look, you're more than welcome here. You know that. This is your city. You built it and I will keep it standing until you are able to take the keys back. But know this, I don't do it for you Klaus. You are not the only one who misses her.” Klaus flashed to him and gripped his throat.

“Do not for one second compare your pain to mine. She was my reason for breathing. If there wasn't a mere chance that I knew that she could come back to me, I would have ended my life a century ago.” He threw Marcel backwards and the vampire hit the wall. A dent was formed in the brick and the dark vampire looked up at the man who raised him.

“She was my mother. She made me into the man I am today. Don't forget that.” Marcel fired back. Klaus was all but ready to attack him again but his phone buzzed. He saw his sister's name flash on the screen and he scowled. She knew not to call him here. She knew that he was unreachable during this time. He ignored it; but before he could continue his assault on Marcel, she called right back. Klaus felt his temper flare but he pressed the answer button.

“What Freya?” He hissed into the receiver with clenched teeth.

“They found her. Mystic Falls.”

“What?”

“Mystic Falls. I'm in New York. I'll be there tomorrow around mid day.”

“Are you certain?”

“A contact called me. I'm positive. She is there.”

“Who was it?”

“Rose-Marie.”

“I gather she wants her freedom then?”

“And that vampire friend of her's.”

“I see.” If this was real, if this was finally happening, Rose could have whatever she desired. He would gift that pathetic friend of hers an entire country if she wished if it brought her back to him. He had been searching for over a century for this and here it was, all but being handed to him; and so close to their anniversary. “If she is really there, tell Rose-Marie that she is free. Call me when you arrive, I'll be there shortly.”

“Oh and Klaus. Katerina is buried in a tomb beneath the town.” Klaus smiled and ended the calls and Marcel was on him with wide eyes. With his vampire hearing, he heard everything. He was searching Klaus's face for any sign of breaking. Marcel wanted nothing more than to break this curse but he wasn't sure if this would break Klaus. If this didn't work, Marcel wasn't sure if Klaus would keep his humanity on this time. Klaus was dangerous but without his humanity, Marcel wasn't sure if New Orleans, Mystic Falls and the world as a whole would be left standing.

“They found her?”

“Yes.” Klaus wasn't looking at him but Marcel could see the wheels turning in his head. “I'm leaving at first light for Mystic Falls. I'll meet Freya there. Would you make arrangements and bring the coffins?” Marcel nodded. “Leave the daggers in tact if you would. At least for right now.” Marcel nodded but in the back of his mind, he was shocked. He never thought that Klaus would consider ever removing those daggers for all of eternity.

“Well, Rebekah and I are still on the outs so that one is safe and Kol hate me so trust me when I say that one will stay put.” Marcel joked and Klaus smirked at him. It was the first smirk that Marcel has seen since that fateful night. Klaus didn't say anything but instead flashed to the chamber he used when he was in residence. The master suite still remained untouched.

*

Mystic Falls

April 2010

Elena and Bonnie stumbled through the woods towards the old Fell Church. Bonnie trailed behind Elena, not completely sure that this was a wise idea but Elena was determined. She wanted to speak with Katherine and no matter how much Bonnie tried to convince her otherwise, she wouldn't change her mind. Once they reached the edge of the tomb, Elena looked towards Bonnie who nodded and magically maneuvered her into the tomb.

When Elena touched down on the bottom, she put the black duffle back that she had been carrying on the ground and called out for the vampire. Slowly, she could hear something rustling and moving towards her. It sounded like a horror movie and that moment when she felt as though she should run but she stood her ground. Soon enough, the pale and boney figure of Katherine appeared at the entrance of the tomb.

“Hello Elena.” Her voice was raspy and horse. It sounded as though she had not spoken for days. “You come to watch me wither away?” Elena couldn't look away from her. It was as though she was looking into a mirror. They were identical but it was as though she was looking into a mirror and hating what she saw. Looking at Katherine made her feel a sense of self loathing Elena only felt when she thought of her parents. “Stefan know you're here?”

“I brought you some things.”

“You can't bribe me. What is it that you want?” Elena pulled out a blanket and a pillow and tossed them into the tomb. Katherine didn't even look at them but kept her gaze on her doppelganger.

“I want you tell me about Klaus and what he could possibly want with me.” This surprised Katherine and for the first time since entering that tomb, she seemed amused. Elena pulled a thermos out of the black bag and sat it down onto the ground. Katherine could smell the blood but refused to move or break. She would not grovel for a drop of blood. She was Katherine Pierce. She was stronger than that.

“You've been busy.”

“I also brought you this.” It was a thick leather bound book and suddenly Katherine forgot about the thermos sitting on the cave floor. “Its your family history. It says in here that the family line ended with you. Obviously that is not true.”

“You think that if you brought me some family keepsake that I'd open up?” Elena reached down and cracked open the thermos full of blood. Katherine's instinct took over and she lunged forward, only to be stopped by an invisible barrier separating her from Elena. Elena poured a tiny bit of blood into the cup and pushed it towards Katherine, who greedily took the cup and drank.

“More blood? Start talking.”

“You have the Petrova fire.” Elena said nothing. “It is a long story. Klaus and I. Goes all the way back to 1492 in England after I left Bulgaria....or I was thrown out.” Katherine took another sip of blood and Elena tossed her a questioning look. “I had a child out of wedlock. My family, your ancestors disowned me. My baby, my daughter was given away.”

Elena wanted to say that she was sorry but found that she couldn't say anything at all. She didn't want to feel sorry for Katherine. She wasn't willing to show pity for the woman who tormented both Stefan and Damon for almost a century and a half. “I caught the eye of a nobleman named Klaus. I was taken with him at first until I learned what he was and what he wanted from me. Then I ran like hell.”

“What did he want?”

“Klaus is one of the first seven vampires to walk this earth. We are all descended from one of those vampires, but Klaus was more. He had the werewolf gene that was locked away for centuries. The blood of the doppelganger unlocked that curse. He wanted to sacrifice me on an alter to lift his curse.” Elena froze. “So I ran. I killed myself, became a vampire and infuriated him. He then massacred my entire family in revenge.”

“Is that what he wants with me? To drain my blood.”

“No. He killed one of my decedents, another doppelganger, in 1702. The same night she gave birth to her son. Klaus was always one for a backup plan and it was best to keep the Petrova line alive. His wolf side has been unlocked for centuries and then he killed his father shortly after that.” She gave a merciless laugh. In truth, Katherine never cared for her descendants and cared even less for the one standing in front of her. They only made her bitter. It proved that her daughter had a full life that she was never apart of. “He is coming here because another curse haunts him now. He wants back what I took from him.”

“What did you take?” Elena asked in a whisper. Confusion filled her. There was so much she didn't know and so many questions she wished to ask.

“He massacred my entire family because I disobeyed him. He took them from me so I took the one person that meant everything to him.” Katherine smirked and Elena could tell that Katherine thought this was her one greatest achievement. “Did you ever ask yourself why I was in Mystic Falls in 1864? It wasn't because of Damon and Stefan. They were nothing more than a distraction.”

“Katherine, what did you do?”

“I took his wife.”

“What?”

“I took Caroline.”

*

England

April, 1492

The garden only bloomed at night. The flowers that were all closed during the day and it made many of the servants wonder why Lady Caroline wanted the flowers that could only be seen by the moon. It was a request she made of her husband and Klaus was nothing more than obliging to Caroline's whims. Truth was that Caroline cared deeply for those she deemed worthy enough, and Rose was one of her friends that she held close.

Early in their friendship, Rose had stated that she missed seeing the flowers bloom. Since Rose became someone she cared for, but didn't trust enough to give a daylight ring too, she asked Klaus to have an entire garden planted with just flowers that bloomed at night. The two strolled with linked arms as the moon was high in the sky. It was just over a week away before the full moon and Caroline could could stop pretending.

“How long will the doppelganger be your guest?” Rose asked and she could see Caroline scowl. She hated the doppelganger and Rose knew that it wasn't just because of the girl herself. Truthfully, Caroline hadn't actually met her in person yet. She was less than pleased when Klaus suggested that Katerina stay at their home. She was was even less pleased when Klaus told her they shouldn't flaunt their marriage. The row that followed had been one of their worst in the five hundred years they had been married, only surpassed by the fight of epic proportions they had when they turned the very first vampires only a few years after they were turned themselves. There was so much more to the story of the doppelganger and the Mikelsons but Rose knew better than to pry. She adored Caroline. She was giving and bright and had this light that was rare from vampires who were as old as they were. However, that light could go out just as quickly as her husband's temper turned.

“Just another week. Then Klaus will drain her and I will never have to suffer seeing that face again.” Caroline replied as she picked an evening primrose. She turned towards Rose and smiled. She pushed Rose's dark curls behind her ear and placed the yellow flower in her hair. “There, you look beautiful. Now tell me, has Trever professed his undying love for you yet?” Rose laughed. Caroline always tried to convince the two of them that they were made for one another when neither Rose nor Trever saw anything romantic in one another.

“No. Not at all. You know that he is nothing more than a brother to me.” Rose chuckled and Caroline laughed with her. Caroline had this laughed that was musical and Rose couldn't help but feel uplifted when she heard it.

“Of course. Then again he is far to busying bedding the doppelganger.” Rose froze with wide eyes. She wasn't sure if Caroline knew and if Caroline knew then Klaus did as well. “I do hope that his habits won't become a distraction.” Rose nodded negatively. Caroline gave another wide smile. “Good. I would hate for my husband to be forced to end him. If you tried to stop it, Nik would kill you too and I would hate to lose one of my best friends.”

Rose couldn't respond. Laughter could be heard in the gardens. The two turned their heads and saw Katerina running towards them. Her long dark brown curls bounced behind her and she turned her head towards the man who was chasing her. Elijah. Caroline rolled her eyes and looked at the pair. She turned to Rose but muttering.

“Another reason Trever shouldn't become too attached is the fact that Elijah will probably take her to bed before the full moon.” Caroline hissed. The dark haired girl stopped in front of them and Elijah was quickly on her heels. If Katerina was paying attention, she might have noticed that Elijah caught up to her far to quickly for a mere human.

“Hello.” Katerina said as she looked between the two. It was clear that she wasn't sure who they were but intended to find out.

“Katerina, may I introduce my sister, Caroline and her friend, Rose.”

“Oh! I was so hoping to meet you. Is Rebekah with you?” Caroline plastered a fake smile on her lips and her ice blue eyes traveled over the girl. Clearly Elijah has been speaking of the family, which was fine as long as they kept the important parts a secret. Apparently her marriage to Klaus was one of them; much to her distain.

“No. Rebekah is away for the time being.” In a coffin. With a dagger in her chest. Because she sided with Caroline on Klaus's idea of hiding their marriage. While Klaus would never dare dagger Caroline, Rebekah was fair game to him and her displeasing him in such a manner was enough for Klaus to put her to sleep. “But she will be back soon, I am sure.”

“Oh, that is a pity. I was hoping to get to know both of my new sisters.” Katerina smiled at her and it took every ounce of control Caroline had to not rip out her throat. While the doppelganger may not realize how violent Caroline's thoughts were, she could tell that the blonde did not like her very much. Elijah had stated that Caroline and Klaus were close and that she was protective towards him. She could only hope that over time the blonde would grow to accept her as Klaus's wife because it was clear that he was going to offer for her.

“Rose.” Caroline turned. “Would you mind stalling our stroll to another time? I would like some time to get to know Katerina.” Rose nodded and bowed slightly. She turned to walk away at a human speed but Caroline called out to her again. “Do think on what we discussed. It would mean a great deal to me if you do.” Caroline smiled when Rose nodded. She turned back towards Katerina and linked their arms together. “Do not fret Elijah, she will be perfectly safe with me.” Elijah looked at her wearily and turned. He knew that Caroline would not harm her because she was important to Klaus and that was all that mattered to his wife.

The two strolled a little while, admiring the flowers and making small comments about them. Caroline wanted to ensure that Elijah was far enough away that he could not hear them. That last thing she needed was her brother to be gaining too much attachment with the doppelganger, as she was soon to die anyway.

“Tell me Katerina, how are you finding England?”

“Very well. It is much different than Bulgaria certainly but it has its charms.” The girl smiled, trying hard to get the other to like her. Katerina was never a people pleaser but she needed to at least try and form a friendship with her.

“Charms? Like Niklaus?”

“Yes. He is quite charming.” Caroline stopped and rolled her eyes and Katerina stopped, shocked at the reaction. Caroline had enough of her after only a few words. She turned and bent down slightly since she was a bit taller than her. Her eyes dilated and Katerina became entranced.

“What do you really think of Niklaus?”

“He is handsome but he doesn't pay me any mind but everyone says he will make me offer of marriage. It is as though he doesn't notice me or want me at all, only to do what is expected of him. Elijah is much more pleasing.” That made Caroline smile. She wouldn't lie and say that she had some worry over Klaus and the doppelganger. It was clear that Katerina would sleep with anyone that would let her but Klaus was hers. No other woman was to touch him. Ever. There was that small rough patch in France a few hundred years ago but they had grown since then. Yet, she had been worried. While this wasn't Tatia, she looked like her. Klaus had been infatuated with her once, and here she was in the flesh again. The narcotic part of her brain couldn't help but be jealous.

“Anything else?”

“He scares me. I don't know what he would do to me if he found out.”

“Found out what?”

“That I allowed Trever to bed me and that I had a child out of wedlock.” That made Caroline pause.

“A child? Where is it?”

“She was taken from me. My father took her from my arms just has I had given birth to her. I have no idea where she is or whom she was given too. She would be two years old now.” Even in the mist of compulsion, Caroline could tell that she thought of her daughter often. Caroline felt a pang of sympathy in her heart as she thought of the child she never got to know. The one that never even had the chance grow inside of her but that she so desperately wanted to give Klaus.

And then that pang was gone.

“You will go to bed and sleep until the sun comes up. We spent most of the night strolling through the gardens, getting to know one another. You heard me laugh and believe that we have become great friends. You never told me of your daughter or your relationship with Trever.” Katerina repeated her instructions and turned on her heels, making her way back towards the castle. Caroline stood there, watching as Katerina fled back into the castle.

[ftpthemovement]

THE BEST ONE YET

Speak as if it is so. Do not speak problems, speak solutions. Pray the power of the Holy Spirit to be put into motion. Faith is not for what we can see, but to the unseen. For we know that God lives in us through his spirit, and we have the ability to operate in the same power as Christ.

The vision God has placed in your heart is not by mistake. You must feed it and nurture it. It’s not your dreams, or passions in your flesh that I’m talking about. It’s the vision he places in you to see his will be done on earth as it is in heaven. It’s for you to identify the difference between a spirit of love and discernment.

Does the vision God have you have to do with spreading the gospel to all nations, making disciples, and baptizing in the name of The Father, The Son, and the Holy Ghost? Do the things you visualize have a use as a resource to help further God's will for your life, or are the personal desires you have that wage war against your spirit? You will know the vision is of God when it lines up with his word and his calling for your life.

The Bible says the sheep know the Shepard’s voice, and that the enemy parades himself around as an angel of light. Though the children of God will not listen to a stranger's voice, they only respond to the shepherd's voice. This is a major indicator of knowing the difference between God's word, and the word of the world. One will lead to eternal life and a reward in heaven, the other leads to death.

Once you understand the vision, you must speak to it, as though it already was in existence. Just as a baby is produced in the womb and must be pushed out through action, so is the vision God gave you. The Holy Spirit gives life to the thought, and you must birth it through faith working itself out through action. Some thoughts are of God others aren’t of the flesh, the word of God, the spirit of God, and prayer will always keep you inline.

Once you have spoken it into existence, you begin the process of birth pains. These are leading up to the glorious moment of accomplishment, where the struggle will disappear the moment you lay eyes on the completed task at hand. But unlike any other example, I can find, once you give birth to that idea and it becomes a reality, you will quickly be given another to bring into existence.

This is what I believe our life cycle is all about. We were created to walk in relations with God and participate in the ability to have visions and make them a reality. Just as we have been called to multiply and subdue the earth, we have also been called to do the good works God has pre-destined us to do before he laid the foundations of the earth. Notice that the work was Preakness before we were?

That means God had a mission, a purpose, and a calling for us to walk in relationship with him through the finished works of Jesus Christ. So at the appointed time, God would provide the opportunity for us all to come to repentance. Based on where we are in all of creation, we have the opportunity to finish the mission of completing the good works God has for us before Christ return.

Now when you get visions from God, and you know they are from him and not of your own fleshly desires, I personally believe this is God giving you a flash look at the work he had prepared for you. He is encouraging you to have the faith to bring his mission to fruition. I’ve also noticed for me personally, he will give me visions much larger than what I personally can accomplish myself. This requires me to step out of my comfort zone and operate on the faith he has called me to walk in.

This is where we have to have a relationship with our Father in Heaven because without faith you will fail. He says when you pray, believe that you have already received what you are praying for, and then you will have it. Notice how that leaves absolutely no room for doubt or failure. You are simply speaking to the vision God birthed through the Holy Spirit. When you speak to that vision, you take authority over it through faith. Faith is the key that gives that thought the ability to come to fruition. The actions that follow, will bring that vision to completion.

Many of us have a thought that God gives us and we let go of it just as quickly as it came to us. Often times it’s because we choose fear over faith. Fear kills the vision, faith activates the vision because faith is the authority needed to start the working process. Without faith, you could just write your visions off as a daydream, because the enemy comes and snatched the vision away because you gave him the authority to do so through fear. How so?

The enemy comes to steal, kill, and destroy. He is the chief of liars and parades himself around as an angel of light. God's power is activated in your life through faith, and you give the enemy power to operate when you choose fear. When you have faith, you have the ability to walk in the supernatural gifting of the Holy Spirit. Faith activates that ability because the spirit of God is not limited by the realm of the flesh. However, whenever you operate in a spirit of fear, you are activating the authority of the enemy, because fear is rooted in a lack of God's provision.

Scripture say's the one who operates in fear, has not been perfected in love. Fear itself is rooted in punishment, but Christ paid the price for us to be free from sin, death, guilt, and condemnation. When we place our faith in God's finished works through Christ, we have the ability to walk in relationship with God through the Holy Spirit he placed in us. That means God works in us the same way he did Christ to bring his world to completion.

That means we are partners in God's harvest. This partnership allows us to freely walk in faith, void of fear, guilt, and condemnation. This freedom comes from denying ourselves daily picking up our cross and following God. We do so by putting to death the ways of the flesh and its self-seeking thoughts, and we live for the good of others through Christ's finished works.

I hope you are beginning to see what all this looks like. When you have faith, you walk in relationship with God. When you walk in relation God gives you the vision (a seed) of the work he has called you to do. When you come into agreement with him through faith you plant that seed in your mind and you begin to take action. Your action is you nurturing and watering that seed through your actions of faith. Then at God's appointed time, it will sprout out and grow up into full fruition.

Once the harvest comes it will feed you and those that God has intended it for. Then another season comes, and more thoughts are given to you by God. Now that you have seen and tasted that the Lord is good, it is an encouragement for you to bring faith to the next thought because now you know the fruit that each vision from God bears.

It’s the work hard, of course? But his yoke is easy and his burden is light. What’s hard is always doubting your vision. Doubt is the beginning root of fear. Where God has called you to plant wheat through your faith, you give authority to the enemy to plant weeds through your doubt. Doubt then becomes fear, fear leads you to isolation, and isolation leads you to death. You take a man's faith, he’s left with fear. You dwell on fear long enough and it produces anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, and thoughts that are unnatural. Those unnatural thoughts lead you to believe no one understands or gets you and then you feel alone and isolated.

Scripture says it’s not good for man to be alone. Given enough time, left to your thoughts that are rooted in fear. The enemy will come to try and destroy you. Why? Because he knows the power that you are capable of when you walk in faith, and that’s a threat to his plans. His plans are to destroy what’s good. He spreads lies, he is the accuser, he is the lack of forgiveness in a world full of hate. He is the spirit of iniquity that is at work in all of us that choose not to walk in accordance with God's love, by being living representatives of Christ's finished works.

So there you have it. Those are the two opportunities that we have here on earth. Walk-in a relationship with God and have a bold faith-filled life of opportunity and fulfillment. Or, deny God through our actions and live a life full of fleshly desires, fueled by doubt and fear. Leading us to be complacent and ineffective for the kingdom of heaven.

Through it is natural to have the feeling of doubt and fears, you have been given the Great Comforter, the Holy Spirit as a deposit guarantee reminding you of your enteral inheritance. That means you should not give a moment's notice to fear and doubt. Instead, when God gives you a vision, and you feel doubt and fear, you should allow it to thrust you forward into action. Why? Because if the enemy wants you to feel that feeling, that means God has something prepared for you greater than where you are now.

Yea, I said it. God placed everything amazing on the other side of fear. It’s the test that separates the flesh from the spirit. God has not given the flesh the authority to operate in the power of God, only men of faith can do that through the spirit God placed in them through the finished works of Jesus Christ. When you feel the fear, it’s an indicator of the enemy being present. You overcome him by resisting him through faith. Faith activates the thought to come into fruition, and your actions bring it to completion.

So to make it simple when you feel fear you crush it with faith. How do you crush? By activating your faith through taking action. When you know God has brought you to it, he will bring you through it. He gives you the opportunity to use your free will to choose him and crush the devil by completing the finished works he has predestined for you before the foundation of the earth was laid.

Yea, every time you crush fear in the face, you are honoring God through your obedience to his call of faith. To love what he loves, to hate what he hates, to walk in relationship with your Heavenly Father and sharing in communion through a life lived well, by honoring his son's sacrifice. That’s the opportunity you have as children of God. To walk in a life of love, excitement, and opportunity; and to crush hell for a living! How amazing is that? Christ died because he knew that you would have the courage to look fear in the face and say, “Not today, through the finished works of Jesus Christ you have been conquered!”

Sin and death have lost their sting. Christ has paved the way to victory! Though we have trials and troubles, the tribulations of this world do not supersede the love, grace, mercy, and forgiveness of the finished works of Christ. You have the ability to walk in all the power of Christ Jesus. As Christ is in heaven, is how you are on earth in Jesus name. Take the reigns of faith and conquer hell for a living. Pulling others back from the flames and equipping them and empowering them to walk in the fullness of the Holy Spirit. The love of Christ has made manifest in us a spirit that cannot be overcome by the evil of this world.

That’s why the enemy tried to cause you to doubt the word of God, to get you distracted with the ways of the world. If he can get you focused on temporary desires, get you compiling about shortcomings, can place doubt in your heart, he knows that you yourself will use your freewill to thwart the mission God has for you.

But, when you surround yourself with true men of God who do not lack zeal of the Holy Spirit, it compels you forward, spurring you to do the good works God has prepared for you. Today you have the option of fear or faith? Obedience or disobedience? Crush hell for a living, or let doubt stop the plans God has for you? Take hold of the vision and activate it through faith, or written it off as a daydream and stay living quietly in fear? God or the enemy? Life or death? It’s up to you to choose.

God loves you so much he gave his only begotten son that whoever believes in him shall have enteral life. Those that believe in him will walk as he walked. They will be men of faith who are here to finish the mission Hod has placed in their life. They will be known for their love through action, and they will be perfected in love. Which means they will not operate in a spirit of fear or doubt. You will know them by the fruit they bear. Will you be numbered amongst the righteous children of God, or trade your internal inheritance for a life of cowardly fear? -ES

[gaytrashgoblin]

Merry Pitchmas!

Merry Pitchmas and happy holidays @anotherbechloeshipper​ from your secret santa! Have a wonderful winter break and I hope you enjoy the fic :)

It had been an ongoing mystery in the Bella House who decorated for Christmas. After trying for literal months their first year in the house receiving nothing, the girls gave up, assuming it was Chloe, no matter how adamantly she denied it. The second year, the girls were still just as curious, but kept their speculations and questions to themselves mostly, knowing that whoever was decorating wasn’t going to give themself up. It became something of a running joke in the house, wondering who the decorator was and why they skipped all of the other holidays. And while the secret would remain a secret for the Bellas as a whole, Chloe was going to learn come the third year. 

Beca and Chloe had started seeing each other the summer after Beca’s freshman year. Since the relationship was so new when the holidays came around, they went their separate ways for Thanksgiving and Christmas with plans for Skype dates and promises of calls. During Beca’s Sophomore year, they stayed in Barden for Thanksgiving with Beca’s father and step-mother, then spent Christmas in Florida with Chloe’s family, each welcoming the respective girlfriend with open arms. Having spent this Thanksgiving with the Beales, Beca and Chloe found themselves headed for Portland, Oregon, where Beca’s maternal family waited. 

“Rebs!” Shouted two rather short brunette women, who quickly made their way to where Beca and Chloe were waiting for their bags. 

“Mama, Aunt Shan,” Beca responded excitedly, hugging both women to Chloe’s surprise. “This is my girlfriend, Chloe,” she continued, grabbing her hand and pulling her forward. 

“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you! I’m Beca’s mother, Dianna, and this is my sister Shan,” she said, embracing the redhead as she had done her daughter. 

“You too! Thank you for having me for the holiday.” Dianna waved her off while Beca and her aunt grabbed their bags. Chloe watched happily as Beca chatted animatedly with her mother and aunt the whole way to their home, telling them about school, her budding relationship with her father, and, of course, their relationship. Chloe chimed in here and there, but she was content watching Beca and how happy she seemed around her mom. It was a refreshing change from how uncomfortable she was around her father. The surprises didn’t seem to stop as they arriuved at the modest home, and Beca was attacked by her family with greetings and affection. She returned greetings and hugs and introduced Chloe to Shan’s husband and their children, Beca’s cousins. After brief introductions, Beca showed Chloe upstairs to her childhood bedroom. Chloe took in the room with a look of contemplation. The walls were light blue and, obviously, had several music posters and vinyl records on them. But for the most part it was bright and happy. 

“So… surprised?” Beca asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. 

“Mmm, a little. I was expecting it to be pink,” she teased. Beca shook her head with a laugh.

“Ok nerd. C’mon, mom and Shan said they’d leave some of the decorating for us to do.” Beca pulled Chloe by her hand back downstairs and to the living room, where her family was chatting, patiently waiting for them.

“Ah, there she is! Now we can get this tree decorated,” Shan stated, moving to grab a few boxes labeled “xmas tree.” Sitting down, Chloe watched as they all grabbed ornaments with their names on them and placed them on the tree, when a little box came into her line of sight. 

“For you,” was all Beca said, dangling the box lightly. Chloe shot her a puzzled smile as she opened the box and found a little angel with her name on it. Beca pulled her up and led her to the tree, then pointed to a spot next to one of the ornaments. Chloe noticed then that all of them had an angel with their name, and Beca had left a space next to hers for Chloe to place her own. Tears filled her eyes as she glanced at Beca and Dianne. Beca placed a hand on her back and nodded, so she carefully put her angel up on the tree.

“Alright, the little ones are going to do the tree, Rebs if you wanna do your thing, with Chloe, of course.” Beca smiled, which did not help Chloe’s confusion. 

“I’ll be right back,” she said, pressing a kiss to Chloe’s cheek. She returned a few minutes later with a large plastic bin of Christmas decorations, and Christmas music had started softly playing from a speaker on the mantle. “Alright, you ready to decorate?” She asked, gesturing to the box. 

“What are we decorating exactly?” 

“Uhh, I’m not sure what all mama left for me- us. For us. But usually the banister on the stairs, doorways, and mantle, and tables. Garland on the banister and mantle and lights and fake candles on the tables.” The more Beca rambled, the more pieces fell into place for Chloe. 

“Wait wait wait, you do this every year? Like all out decorating? And Christmassy?” 

“Yeah?” She asked, tilting her head. While she had never paraded around her love of the holiday, she hadn’t particularly hidden it. Chloe looked at her for a moment before her face lit up.

“O-M- aca-G! You’re the mystery decorator!” 

“Well, yeah,” she said smiling. “I figured you knew that. I never like, hid it from you.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, pouting. Beca cupped Chloe’s face with one hand, running her thumb across her pouted lip. 

“No one asked if it was me, so I never said anything,” she shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Now, are you gonna help me decorate or not?” Chloe nodded, beaming. Together, they decorated the house while singing along with the music Beca had playing, some mixes some just the regular songs. After decorating, they had dinner and hot chocolate. Beca took two mugs and gestured for Chloe to follow her outside, where she sat down on a porchswing, haning her the second mug.

“So, do you have anymore Christmas secrets to share?” Chloe asked coyly, taking a sip of the cocoa.

“Well, now that you mention it, I do, actually.” Beca stopped their, sipping from her own mug. Chloe stared at her, waiting for her to continue. When Beca was unable to hide her smirk, she slapped her shoulder.

“Out with it woman!” 

“Okay, okay! Geez,” she said, rubbing her shoulder. Looking out over the yard, she continued, voice soft, “Shan’s first kid, Maddy, got really sick when she was little, like six, I was 15 or something. She was in the hospital for a long time. They hoped she would be able to go home for Christmas, but it didn’t end up that way. Christmas was always mama and Shan’s favorite, mine too, so it we wanted to do something for them. Mom and I arranged with the hospital to let us come in on Christmas day and deliver all of ‘santas’ gifts to Maddy. She was so happy when we got there, all in costume and everything with a bag that had her presents in it,” she paused, emotional from the memory. 

“Anyway, I remember seeing all the other kids light up when we passed their rooms dressed up. Maddy got better after a few more months, but, I don’t know, I just couldn’t stop thinking about all the other kids in her situation. Stuck in the hospital sick and miserable, you know? And how happy Maddy looked when we got there. So mom and I made it a tradition for Christmas to bring a bunch of toys to the kids’ unit of the hospital dressed up as santa’s helpers,” she explained. “I wanted to ask you if you’d come with us? Usually it’s just me and mom, but I thought maybe mom could pass out gifts and we could sing some Christmas songs for them? If you don’t want to you don’t have to-”

“Beca,” she said, cutting off her rambling,” I would be honored to come with you.” 

“You would?” she asked, smile growing. 

“Yes.” They were both quiet for a moment, just smiling at each other. “I always knew you were a good person, but this makes me love you more than I already do,” Chloe said softly. 

“I love you too, Chlo,” she responded, kissing her sweetly.

 Chloe was filled with nervous energy. She, Beca, and Dianne, were all in the elevator dressed up like santa, about to give presents and holiday cheer to a floor full of sick children. Dianne had a bag of various toys, Beca had an acoustic guitar strapped to her back, and Chloe had a box with coloring sheets and Crayons, all ready to spread some happiness and give these kids a moment to be children again. There was an area on the floor for the more mobile kids to sit and play, which is where Beca and Chloe set up, while Dianna went to the rooms with the not so mobile kids with presents first. Chloe was helping get the kids set up with their pictures and crayons when Beca had started double checking the tuning of her guitar. There was a little girl, who looked rather worse for wear, sitting on a little chair alone, and Beca went and sat next to her, leaning down to speak quietly. Chloe watched as Beca coaxed a smile and a little giggle from the girl, then nodded her head in Chloe’s direction. The little girl looked up at her with wide eyes, then turned back to Beca, who nodded again. A moment later, a familiar tune filled the room. 

As Beca began singing the lyrics to White Winter Hymnal, Chloe’s absolute favorite Christmas song, the smile on her face only grew. She picked up and joined after the opening, making her way around the room of happy children while doing so. As Chloe swayed her way toward Beca, a few of the children got up and started dancing, so she made her way to them and danced with them while singing with Beca. She noticed that some parents had joined in singing and even dancing. The nurses were smiling and singing, and a warmth spread in her chest as she looked around at the scene they had managed to create. How something as simple as a Christmas song and some coloring could bring these children and their parents so much joy so easily. Chloe found herself having to force her tears back as she continued dancing and singing with the kids. It wasn’t until they were getting ready to pack up their things that Chloe found a moment to speak with Beca. 

“Thank you for bringing me with you.” 

“Of course, thanks for coming willingly,” she joked, placing her guitar down to help clean up. 

“No, I mean it. This… this was such an amazing thing, and I’m just… I’m really happy you shared it with me,” she said, tearing up again. Beca ran her thumbs under her eyes softly, catching the lone tear that had fallen. 

“There’s no one else I would share it with but you. You nerd,” she said, getting a small laugh out of Chloe. “I love you, Chlo. And… I’d like to keep this tradition with you, if you want,” she said hesitantly, resting her forehead against hers. 

“I love you too. And I would love to keep this tradition with you.” They stood with each other for a moment, enjoying their closeness, before Chloe smiled teasingly. 

“I can’t wait to tell the girls who the mystery decorator is.” 

[kyouxa]

Diabolik lovers Lunatic Parade: Shu Sakamaki (Chapter 2)

Welcome back!! (ﾉ≧∀≦)ﾉ This chapter was super interesting and I really liked it!? More translations upcoming soon!  Honestly, if anyone still has someone they want me to translate from Lunatic Parade in the future please type an anon ask and I will definitely see it! **Disclaimer: だるい = Darui (I wrote 『bothersome』 instead of it’s actual meaning “dull or sluggish” because I felt like it sounded more like Shu so please don’t yeet at me, thanks)

Place: Yui's dream — Mysterious church

Yui: (Where is... this place... )

???: Hello, so we do meet again.

Yui: This voice ... I think I‘ve heard it before ...?

???: I'm highly honored to be remembered by you.

There is something I have that I want to ask you today.

You are... from the bottom of your heart, you are madly in love with that man, right?

Yui: (That man? Does he mean Shu-san... ? In that case—)

Yes, I really do love him.

???: You do?

Then why did you refuse his offer of turning yourself into a vampire?

Becoming a vampire would mean to spend endless time with him. Staying beautiful and not getting old...

It wouldn’t be a foolish idea. But yet you still refused him ... Why?

Yui: That is...

???: That is?

Yui: (... That is... ?)

Place: Outside — Cave

Yui: ..... !

(Mm... I seem to have fallen asleep for some time)

.....

(I wonder why I was dreaming about that?)

(The person I had dreamed of, I’m sure I met them before already, which means that it could be a coincidence?)

(B-But... if it really was so, why would I try to test my own feelings?)

(I do love Shu-san. Those feelings won‘t change anymore... at least they shouldn‘t...)

... Hey...

*wind blows in the cave*

Yui: (It’s getting cold...)

Hey Shu-san. We might catch a cold if—

(Huh? Where is he... ?)

Shu-san... ! Where are you... ?

.....

(There is no reply. Just where did he go? I wonder if I’d meet him outside)

(I want to go and look for him... but if I make a mistake I might not find the way back anymore, I should maybe wait a little)

*time passed*

Yui: (— It’s been a long time since then and Shu-san still hasn‘t come back)

(What should I do… what if something has happened before I went to sleep?)

...Ngh

(No, if I think that something might’ve happened, I won’t be able to do it!)

(Let’s start searching)

*Yui runs off*

Place: Outside — Forest

Yui: Hah, Hah, Hah...

Shu-san... ! Please reply if you hear me!

Shu-san!

.....

(He’s nowhere, just what should I do!? There must be something after all!)

(I need to find him, no matter what... !)

*Yui runs off*

Yui: (Huh... there is a mysterious house)

(If I look closely ... Is it made of sweets?)

(There is nothing else around, perhaps Shu-san might be in there)

(Let’s give it a try. I just need to get a little closer...)

Place: Outside —  Mysterious house

Yui: (If I get closer... I really was right that it is made of sweets)

(It also has a sweet scent ...)

(I wonder if someone really lives in there?)

*Yui knocks*

Yui: G-Good evening

.....

(There’s no answer... is there really no one inside?)

*Yui knocks again*

(What should I do…)

*something moved inside*

Yui: ..... !

(Looks like someone actually is inside there)

*Yui knocks twice*

Yui: Excuse me... ! I have an important question.

I’m looking for a certain person... ! Did you see a vampire man coming near here?

???: .....

Don’t come in.

If you’re looking for Shu, go find another place to search.

Yui: (Such...)

(Huh? But...)

Please wait!

Why did you know that the person I was looking for was Shu-san?

???: ...ngh

Yui: Please let me know if you know anything!

???: .....*sigh*.....

*door opens*

Shu: Yui

Yui: Shu-san!?

Place:  Outside — Forest

Shu: I already thought it’s about time that you wake up... but I didn’t know that you‘d start looking for me.

Yui: T-That’s because... I was worried if something might have happened to you...

Shu: Well ... I know it was bad to go alone. But I was planning to go back home soon ...

Yui: (Home... ?)

What happened then?

Shu: Actually, the man who lives here is the guy I was looking for.

I remembered it while you were sleeping.

Yui: ..... ! So that’s why you left.

If you just woke me, I would’ve come with you instead...

Shu: You looked like you slept well. In addiction...

Rigel really hates human beings.

That's why I thought it would be better to go alone as well.

Yui: ......

(That means, it’s my fault for showing up...)

I’m sorry, I...

Shu: No.

But...

That guy Rigel, he seems to know something about the Earl ...

But as long as I have a human being with me, he won’t cooperate.

Yui: ...But, that is...

Shu: Anyway, let's go back to the town.

Yui: But...

(We’re just going back to the beginning)

Place:  Demon World — Saint nore park street

Yui: (People really are showing a lot of excitement for the parade, we aren’t far away from it)

Hmh ...

Shu: .....

...Well, the situation didn’t change even if we got lost.

Yui: ... Yes, that’s right.

By the way, why isn’t Rigel-sama comfortable with humans around him?

Shu: Well... it‘s obvious that you’re curious about his background as well as I am.

Yui: Is there like, anyone who knows the circumstances about him?

Maybe someone who is close to Rigel-sama...

Shu: ...ngh

... Do you want to know the familiarities from him?

*familiar flies by*

Yui: ..... !

Shu: If this isn’t enough, I’ll cover up with Happo... well, it’s probably worth waiting awhile.

Yui: (Like this we might get a clue)

Shu: ... Then anyway... it’s a bit sloppy to just stand around here, maybe if we go to the parade it would change our mood.

Yui: Huh... ? Is that really okay?

(I thought Shu-san didn’t like it)

Shu: It’s not going on forever. That means...

I honestly think you need a complete distraction.

Now, let’s go.

*Shu leaves*

Yui: Oh, y-yes!

(He’s doing that for me... thank you, Shu-san)

*Yui follows Shu*

Yui: (Wow, it was really amazing. It was also very prosperous to be honest)

Shu: Where should we go next?

Choices

1) — Mirror house ♡♡♡

2) — Game Center

— Mirror house ♡

Yui: (I’d really like to visit a quiet place as much as possible)

How about the mirror house over there?

Shu: Oh... it seems to not have many people there.

Yui: (Haha, looks like it was the right answer)

(That’s the mirror house... it really is as quiet as I thought)

Place: Demon World — Mirror House

Yui: (It‘s really complicated. It seems to be way more difficult than I imagined)

Shu: ...*yawns*...

Yui: (Ah! He went this way—)

Ah, please wait!

(I’m relived... I caught up with him)

Shu—

Shu: — Hey, that’s a mirror.

Yui: Kya!

Shu: Haa... you absolutely believed in what you saw and ran after a false copy of me...

You really reacted like I imagined you would.

Yui: (Uhh, he’s laughing at me)

(But, I’m happy that Shu-san has at least a little bit fun in here... right?)

— Game Center

Yui: It’s a little far away, but what about the game center over there?

Shu: Out of everything you chose a place with lots of noises...

Yui: (H-He doesn’t feel like going there at all)

Shu: Well whatever... let’s go.

Yui: Y-Yes

(It possibly would have been better to choose a quieter place for Shu-san ...)

Place: Demon World — Game Center

Vampire man A: As expected, there's only one small parade and it's already crowded everywhere.

Vampire man B: Yeah. Well, we don’t have it everyday either.

Yui: (It is certainly crowded ...)

Shu: Haa...

Yui: Oh, about that ... should we maybe change the place after all?

Shu: No, it’s fine. You were the one who wanted to come here.

I will... I’ll be sitting on the back bench.

*Shu leaves*

Yui: (He is gone……)

(What should I do? Maybe I should at least bring a drink for Shu-san)

Vampire man C: Hey woman.

Yui: ..... !?

Vampire man C: You yes you. Who else is around here?

Yui: (A-After all... he really meant me)

Vampire man C: Even though there’s a parade running outside, it‘s not likely for someone like you to be here alone.

Anyway, are ya free? If yes, I will bring some time with me to play with you.

Yui: No, I‘m not...

Vampire man C: Ha? Don’t fool around.

I’m doing this with a special kindness right now.

Just show a little obedience and come to me already.

Shu: Hey.

Vampire man C: ... ngh

Yui: (Shu-san... !)

Vampire man C: Tch... what's up with this dude... aren’t you from the Sakamaki family...

Shu: Yes, that’s right.

I know that guys like you really aren’t good with listening to what a woman says at all.

Now go away.

Vampire man C: Hah...

*he leaves*

Yui: (I-I was saved)

Shu-san... ! Thank you...

Shu: Good grief ... even without having any specific smell from your blood, you can’t manage to avoid getting in any trouble.

I can't help it... I’ll take a nap on the bench over there.

Don't hang around without my permission. Stay with me.

Yui: Y-Yes...

(Somehow I'm glad that he said that, but let's keep that a secret)

end Choices

Place: Demon World —  Saint nore park street

Yui: (Uhh, the next one is—)

*someone shot sth*

Yui: Wow!

(They really got everything... even a shooting stall is here)

Shu: ... Do you want to try it out?

Yui: A-Are you sure?

Shu: I‘m interested in it. We still got some time to spend so why not trying it out?

I‘ll carefully watch if you actually got any skills.

Yui: (Yeah, I’ll try my best!)

*minigame starts*

— If you won: (+CG)

Yui: I won! I did it!

Shu: ... Ngh, to be hugged from you that surprisingly is nice once in awhile.

Yui: I’m just so happy, because I got such a satisfying result.

Shu: Hmh... if you're already that happy, I don’t think you need this anymore.

Yui: What is "this"... ?

Shu: It’s a free gift ring. I thought it would suit you pretty well.

Yui: (Eh!? For him to do such a thing!)

Shu: I don’t need it. That’s why I thought about giving it to you, but you seemed to be already satisfied enough with the game.

I wouldn’t mind you throwing it away if you don’t like it either.

Yui: P-Please wait! I’m not satisfied yet. I really want to have it!

Shu: What a greedy woman you are...

But well, if you really like it that much... haha.

Yui: (I really received a ring from Shu-san!)

— If you lost:

Yui: (Uh, what a failure ... I still need more practice ...)

Shu: ...*yawn*... I didn’t think you really have no shooting talent at all.

Well don't worry about that, I didn't expected anything from the beginning.

Yui: (Uhh... I feel like he made me try it to see me failing on purpose...)

end Game

Shu: Haa... let’s go and look around for awhile.

It’s about time for the familiar to come back to us...

*familiar flies by*

Yui: (Oh! It came back!)

Monologue

The report the familiar brought us was the sad story of Rigel-sama and his now deceased wife.

— In the past, Rigel-sama loved this human women, who became his wife.

They seemed to love each other deeply, even across different species.

Rigel-sama has been building a house of sweets which his wife has always wanted,

so they could live happily together.

But, those days suddenly ended.

His wife saw a vampire man who got lost in the forest and invited him to their house, because she had a good heart.

But the blood-thirsty man sucked her body completely dry and with that he killed the human woman.

Rigel-sama's sorrow when he saw his wife's dead body was so deep that no one could heal him.

And it is said that he closed his heart ever since that incident happened—

Place: Demon World — Saint nore park street

Shu: I understand.

Yui: What a terrible message...

Um, Shu-san.

I... I just can't drop the idea of Rigel-sama, even if he didn't give me any information of the Earl yet.

This situation is serious for me.

I want to try and help him, I know there may be nothing I can do, but...

Shu: Haa... I already felt like you would say something like that.

But, what especially do you want to do?

Yui: I uhm...

Yui: ...Ngh, that’s right!

What about, throwing a special party for Rigel-sama?

Shu: ... Why did you think about that? 

Yui: I wondered why Rigel-sama's wife wanted to have him built a candy house for them.

Maybe ... but just maybe because she wanted to make a house where many people can be gathered ...

So she maybe didn’t want to live alone with Rigel-sama there.

Shu: Well… If nobody wants to get in there, I wouldn't even build such a house.

Yui: Exactly.

If that’s the case, it might be comforting for Rigel-sama to make exactly that happen.

Shu: ....

Yui: I am sure... that Rigel-sama has been suffering because of his dead wife.

So he continue to live in this candy house where no one else exists ...

(Vampires and humans do live differently)

(That's why even I know that a farewell would come someday ...)

(If my husband would die like this, I’d also always stay alone ...)

Shu: Well, there is certainly a reason.

That means...

As you said, it seems that maybe Rigel does feel loneliness like everybody else. 

…Someday I might also end up being like him.

Yui: (Shu-san...)

Shu: —Anyway

If you want to throw a party, you have to start preparing.

Yui: So you agree with my idea... ?

Shu: It's seems bothersome ... but I have to do it.

I'll try it again and listen to what Rigel likes and dislikes.

*familiar flies by*

Yui: Thank you!

Meanwhile I'll be thinking about what kind of party we want to make.

Shu: Yes, do that.

Yui: After all, I think it would be nice for him to share some nice memories before his own death.

Shu: ...Well, if that's the case, there seems to be a lot of work.

Yui: Yes!

(Good! Now, let's do our best!)

[boldly-fxcking-go-bitches]

Solo Para | Bones & Carol | My Front Porch Looking In

Word Count: 3,556 Trigger warnings for: Kidnapping, disappearance/loss of a child, hearing loss

“Hannah,” Carol said, as she looks at their baby girl wrapped in a blanket, in her arms, and looking back up at her husband. “What do you think?”

Leonard smiles softly, leaning over her to get a better look at their daughter, nodding with a smile at Carol, kissing her head. “I think it’s perfect. What do you think, Hannah?”

As if to settle the matter, the baby girl chooses that moment to wiggle a bit in her mother’s arms and get closer. Now as a doctor, he knows that it’s not something she’s consciously doing but dammit, it’s so cute he’s deciding to ignore that, smiling softly at both of his girls, his family.

And the first year is hard, especially given his work and home balance has never been fair, and he has to be out in San Francisco more often than he’d like (and that’s with them limiting his duties so he could stay in Georgia, it’s a damned nightmare how often they decided they still needed him in person), but it gets to be a bit worse when Carol announces she’s pregnant again.

While they’re in the hospital, he gets communications from Starfleet that they’re appointing a new fleet admiral. This time, though, Leonard completely ignores the message, electing to stay at Carol’s side through the birth of their son. It’s as he’s offering, “Frey,” he receives the notice that effective immediately he is to dedicate time to his family and his family alone, by orders of the new Fleet Admiral. And he’ll be damned if it’s not Jim’s name staring up at him on the signature of those orders.

Of course. But he’ll give his old friend credit, at least he’s not an idiot.

He hates how many of Hannah’s firsts he’d missed, but he’s at Carol’s side for all of Frey’s.

He goes back to work sometime after the birth of their third daughter. Madeline is almost like the best of both of them, he thinks, and he loves her with all his heart, but he needed to get back into things lest he risk issues about abandoning his position. Carol understood, but he still hated leaving her with three young children.

But nothing beat the times he got to go home. He’d walk up on the porch, and look in the window and see Carol playing with Frey and Hannah in the living room waiting for him.

Frey would usually be chewing on his sippy cup instead of drinking from it, and Hannah would parade in and out in various outfits she’d put on herself... always with her shoes on the wrong feet. She always makes it some kind of fashion show, but she’s always the first one to see him in the window, and go tearing over to see him before running to the door as he walked over to it, throwing herself at him as he’d open it, screaming an endless stream of, “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!”

But one day, he walks up on the steps, and sees Hannah isn’t playing as hard with Carol. Carol looks up and sees him in the window and smiles, nudging Hannah a bit and pointing to him.

Seeing the little girl’s dark eyes light up, he smiles and opens the door, but this time when Hannah runs over, she pulls on his hand. “Daddy sit! Daddy sit!”

So he sits on the couch next to Carol, noticing Frey curled up asleep in his armchair, and raising an eyebrow at Carol... who only smiles. “Darling... I’m pregnant.”

He’s floored, but he lights up, kissing Carol and scooping up Hannah, who points to Carol’s stomach and babbles, “Baby there!”

Well, she’s right and she’s wrong. Their final pregnancy, Carol and Leonard welcome twins.

Unfortunately, something’s not right with their little girl, and he wants to go with the doctors to try and help but a nurse stops him and he, somewhat defeated but understanding, goes back to Carol and the little girl’s twin brother, trying to soothe his wife as she cries shakily. He doesn’t think that the little girl isn’t going to make it, but...

Well, he doesn’t have to worry about it, when a nurse motions for him to step out. When he does, she sighs. “Admiral, your daughter is alive and with one exception, perfectly healthy.”

A weight lifts off his chest. Except... “What’s the exception?”

“We’re running some tests now to determine the cause, but she had a growth on her vocal chords. You gave permission at the start, as you have with all the previous births, that we do whatever is necessary to save the baby’s life. We... had to remove her vocal chords. Your daughter will never speak.”

His heart sinks, but he focuses on the positive. She’s alive, and she’s healthy. “Can I see her? Before I go back and tell Carol?”

“Of course,” she answers, leading him back to meet his third daughter.

Older than her twin by three minutes, and he sees her actively moving and squirming, mouth open and face squished up... and no sound comes out, but a monitor alerts a nurse to check on her right away.

They’d picked out names in advance this time. Hannah had helped them by casting her vote on an array of options. So he stares in, at all the small children in there, at the little girl with a unique monitor to alert if she’s trying to get attention, and presses his hand against the glass. “Be strong, Angie.”

This time, it takes two years before he goes back to work. And even when he does, Jim is concerned. “Bones, are you sure you’re ready to do this? You can take more time, you have five children, and the twins are only two. Not to mention Angie--”

“Jim, I love my family more than anything, and I’d give anything to be there with them, but there’s nothing more I can do for any of them. Carol’s been telling me I need to get out from under her feet and come back, and when your own wife who carried and bore all five of those kids is telling you to go back to work, it’s a sign you need to get your ass back to work.”

Jim chuckles and sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you do it, Bones.”

“I’ve gotta, Jim. Those kids are the greatest gifts I’ve ever had. But I want them to come up the way I did, and they love it there. My job is here. Their home is in Georgia. We make it work.”

He takes sign language courses in San Francisco, during the stretches where he has to stay in the city. He comes home and sees Carol and Angie practicing sign language (while simultaneously working on speaking with Jared) on the floor of the living room, while Madeline plays with Carol’s hair and Hannah chases Frey around the house... but always comes to a stop at the window when she sees him, eyes light up bright and waving at him before going to meet him at the door, to fling herself at his legs and scream the same, “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” when he opens it.

His gorgeous wife, his five wonderful children, are everything he could ever ask for.

On his birthday a couple years later, he’s forced to work from San Francisco and he hates it, he misses being home, misses Georgia but...

He’s surprised at his apartment when he opens the door to be met by a blonde 7 year old, still flinging herself at him and yelling out, “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” when he opens the door.

“Oof! Hannah? Darlin’, what are you--”

But before he can finish the thought, more voices chorus a cheerful, “Surprise!” and he looks up to see Carol and the rest of the kids, as well as a number of old friends, with a birthday cake on his counter, and he just tears up a bit, scooping up his oldest daughter and making his way in properly. “What on earth is all this?”

“It’s your birthday, daddy,” is the solid answer from the five year old who has clearly put herself in charge of the party.

He chuckles a bit at that. “Is that so, Madeline? Well, what’re you doing here? Last time I checked in, you were still in Georgia, young lady.”

“Well, we’re not anymore,” she replies matter-of-factly, a response that earns a bit of laughter around the room.

Carol gets up and walks over to join him, kissing his cheek. “We left about five minutes after you hung up on us this morning so we’d have time to get here and get everything ready. Happy birthday.”

Smiling, he kisses her, and Hannah wrinkles her nose and swats at them both. “Ewww!”

He laughs a bit at that. “Oh, is that so? Is that so?” And as he starts repeating that, he wrinkles his nose back at her and presses his head against hers, rubbing their noses and smothering her with kisses until she’s squealing and laughing and pushing at him, whereupon he finally pulls back and smiles at her. “I missed you guys.”

Hannah giggles. “We miss you, too,” and just as abruptly as she’d answered him with that soft Georgian accent, she looks at Carol and asks in the chipper British accent, “Mummy, can we tell him now?”

“Tell me what?” He asks, and Hannah looks a bit guilty.

Madeline crosses her arms and pouts. “That was s’posed to be a surprise!”

“Well, cat’s pretty much out of the bag,” Rebecca remarks from where she’s sitting at the counter.

“Darling, we’ll be staying a few days. It was the kids’ idea for your birthday gift, from us to you,” Carol says, and he pauses as her words set in and smiles, pulling her in close and hugging her, before squishing Hannah in between them and motioning for the other four to come join them.

The last day is when it all comes crashing down.

He has one quick thing to do at the office, today was his deadline and he needed to finish the paperwork. Just a few signatures.

In the meantime, Carol took the kids to a park out by Starfleet HQ. It was a hot day, and the three elder kids were behaving so well but the twins... the twins were fussy, Jared wanted to sit with Carol at the bench under the tree because he was too hot, but Angie wanted ice cream and in the time it took to try and settle them, in the minutes she’d looked away...

Madeline was still on the swings.

Frey was still on the monkey bars.

But there was no call from a small blonde with brown eyes for Carol to “Watch me!” as she went down the slide.

Carol shoots up from her seat, eyes darting around the playground.

Just Madeline on the swings.

Frey and a couple other boys his age on the monkey bars.

But no footsteps running around the play structure. No blonde running over to her to talk about being hot or tired. “Hannah?”

No response. “HANNAH?”

But there’s nothing, no little girl yelling back, as Carol grabs the twins hands and rushes to Frey. “Frey, have you seen Hannah, where did your sister go?”

Frey looks over in confusion and looks back at the slide where Carol had seen her last, too. “I don’t know,” he answers, and that sends her heart beating faster, her blood roaring in her ears--

“HANNAH! THIS ISN’T FUNNY, DARLING! HANNAH!”

Madeline climbs off the swings and runs over, as Carol turns in circles, looking around, searching, pleading-- “HANNAH OLIVIA MCCOY!”

He’s signing the last page when his wife calls for him. “I’m just about to leave, I’ll see you--”

But she’s sobbing, hysterical on the other line and he sits up in shock. “Carol, what is it, what happened?”

His heart drops to his stomach as she chokes out the screams. “It’s Hannah-- Hannah’s gone missing from the park, I can’t find her anywhere--”

He stands up sharply and startles his assistant who’d just opened the door. “Where are you? I’m on my way. Call the police.”

That night, he doesn’t come home till 1am, and there’s still no sign of her. Carol is determined, and gets them a proper place in the city-- his little apartment was nice for visiting, but it was really meant as just a place where he could crash when he had to stay in the city for work. The farm in Georgia was their home. But Carol gets them a bigger place in the city, refusing to leave it until they have closure on Hannah’s disappearance.

Three years pass without anything, but neither of them give up hope... even as life hits them hard again, when a regular checkup determines Jared is losing his hearing.

His twin sister holds him and teaches him better sign but it’s not enough, he’s scared and he just wants Carol and Leonard to hold him all the time. He wakes up crying in the middle of the night, and usually Carol is with him in seconds... because Leonard is out, again, as he always is, looking for Hannah. Even if there’s no hope, he has to believe she’s there. Jared cries into his mother’s arms as slowly but surely his hearing is fading, but he refuses anything to aid him even with how scared he is, and Carol can’t make sense of it.

One day when he’s at home, Carol asks him to talk to Jared about it. So he goes to his youngest son, sitting in the window of their living space, looking out over the city below, and sits with him. “Hey, Jared.”

Jared jumps and turns to him, and Leonard winces at how far gone his hearing is, but Jared just smiles, trying his best to bare it. “Hi, daddy.”

“How are you today?”

His son thinks about it. “I’m okay. Is this about the hearing aids?”

Leonard pauses and nods. “It is. Your mom’s been trying to figure out why you don’t want them. She’s worried about you.”

“I don’t want them. If they can’t make something to help Angie, I don’t want to have something that can help me. It’s not fair.”

“I know, bud, I just--”

Jared sniffles. “None of this is fair. I barely remember our old house anymore, or Hannah. You always talk about how good medicine is now but nothing can make Angie better. And you’re always gone looking for Hannah and mommy’s trying so hard and none of this is fair. It’s not fair. I just want everything to go back to how it was before. I want Hannah back, and I wanna go back home, daddy.”

And it’s like a dam breaks in him, as Leonard pulls his youngest son in tightly and hugs him, crying as silently as he can, feeling Jared hug him back and cry against him. “It’s not. You’re right, it’s not. None of this is fair. I wish things could go back to the way they were before, too, buddy, I wish we could go back and keep your sister safe and that we were all back in Georgia together. I wish you and Angie could have the aid you both need, I wish neither of you even needed medical aid. I wish I could just wave my hand and fix everything, buddy.”

But he can’t, and they both know it, so they just hold onto each other and cry for a while before Jim calls him to say they’re going on another search party, even Spock with all his damned logic is ignoring the odds after all these years to help him find his little girl and sometimes the man might drive him up a wall but he’ll give him one thing, that he’s been amazing help during these past few years.

And he continues to be even as the odds get slimmer and even Carol is losing hope. Nine years since their eldest (biological, anyways) vanished and not a trace of her, they have no idea what to do anymore, everything says they need to just give up by now...

But that all changes the night Madeline wakes them up with her screaming. Angie’s missing, her screech says, propelling them both into action. He’s already in contact with Jim and the rest of the Enterprise crew in San Francisco, organizing an immediate search party as they spread out looking for the thirteen year old, and this can’t be happening again, he can’t go through this again--

So he’s relieved enough when the mute thirteen year old flags him down from the sidewalk as he zips through the city streets, rushing over to her as he’s calling Jim to call things off because he found her, calling his wife and...

“Carol, I found... her, hang on she’s with someone else,” he finishes the cross as Angie half carries a blonde teenager into the light and he freezes. Surely--

But the teenager looks at him, with hollow brown eyes and unwashed, messy blonde hair, eyes red and puffy with tears stains cutting through dirt on her cheeks, and she sees him in the light and slowly, slowly, a word creeps out of her mouth. “Daddy?”

He hears Carol gasp but his world narrows out, focused on one thing. The tiny teenager in front of him, with blonde hair and dark brown eyes, a light Georgian twang in her voice when she calls him “daddy”, and it’s her. “Hannah?”

And Hannah smiles very slightly, very shakily, and she pulls away from Angie, stumbling forward a couple steps into his arms, holding onto him and trembling. Leonard looks at Angie, who smiles somewhat and, with the light of the streetlight on her, signs to him how she’d thought she’d heard something on her walk home, and her gut said it had to be Hannah, even after all these years, and he pulls her in close and hugs them both, sobbing weakly as he holds onto them.

He doesn’t even know when Hannah got ahold of his communicator but he hears Carol trying to talk to him and then her small voice answering some questions, and before he knows it Carol and their other three kids are barreling towards them and Carol pulls both of the girls in tightly, peppering Hannah with kisses and crying, and they’re okay and together again and--

The remainder of their search party arrives with the police about ten minutes later, and are shell shocked by what they find. Spock is the first one to ask. “Is that--”

“Yes,” he says, and it’s like a burden lifts from his shoulders, after nine long, impossible years. “Yes, you idiot, it’s Hannah.”

And Jim lights up with joy, and that’s when he sees how much of a burden this had been on his old friends for the past nine years, something he’d managed to be completely blind to.

It’s not easy. Hannah struggles to readjust to so many things-- ordinary light (they assume she was kept in darkness by the way she handles most lights), human interaction, the questioning she has to deal with to try and find the man who took her was torture for her, even sitting curled up in his lap she cries, and that doesn’t start on the recovery that she’ll have to take from the trauma she’s experienced.

But Hannah is home.

The twins are healthy and adjusted and extremely happy. Their kids are happy. Especially when the day comes that the sixteen year old sits down at the table for breakfast and asks, “Can we go home? Back to Georgia, I mean?”

And Bones looks up from his PADD where he’s reading the news, and smiles softly and with a chuckle answers, “Just say when.”

It’s good to come back. Sure, there’s a lot of work to do on the place, after nine years, but that’s the best part in his opinion, the hard, hands-on work of fixing up and cleaning up their home. The kids flourish here.

And, days after a meeting regarding the Orions, nothing beats walking up the porch and looking in at the six beautiful people inside.

There’s a fourteen-year-old girl baking what smells like a peach pie and laughing as a pair of twins race by chasing after a dog that appears to have someone’s hairbrush in its mouth. There’s a boy with dark curly hair playing a video game of some kind but turns it off and heads out the back door to take care of his chores at a reminder from his mother as she passes him by.

And standing on the couch, tracing the lines of what’s going to be a beautiful mural of the family on the wall, is a 4′11″ goth teenager, with purple hair that she’s been coloring to cope, but stops sketching when she hears a tap at the window, turning around and seeing him, smiling brightly and rushing to meet him at the door.

He opens it to hear the familiar sound of that teenager screaming out a series of “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” with joy before hugging him tightly, and he hugs her back knowing somehow, all is well again.

[classicdaisycalico]

For the ship writing thing... 5 with Luigi + Daisy?

send me a ship and one of these and i’ll write a mini fic

Hi I’m sorry about how appallingly late this is??? I had work in the middle of the day and I couldn’t finish it before my shift began so I worked on it some more after I got home and uhhhh here’s the finished product!

I set this a week after the events of “Super Mario Land”. Hope you like this!

5: “Things You Didn’t Say At All”

Flowers.

Daisy had long been used to receiving flowers as gifts of affection from wealthy young men that sought her out as a potential bride, often to the point where she sighed dismissively at the mere sight of a bouquet. More often than not, they contained mostly daisies, accompanied by the occasional folded-up letter hidden inside. Even the letters were annoying; time and again, her eyes glossed over every letter of every meaningless word detailing her “unparalleled beauty” as the Princess of Sarasaland. If she had to read yet another account of how “unabashedly lovestruck” another self-centered wealthy snob was after “seeing such a priceless gem”, she was going to vomit, without a doubt.

Was a pretty maid in a dress all these men...no, BOYS...ever saw her as? Would these chauvinistic CHILDREN only ever equate her to just another woman to parade around like some sort of prize? Most importantly, had it never occurred to them that there was more to a girl than just looks alone? Or had they been driven by other motives related to ruling her kingdom?

Tatanga definitely seemed to think so just last week.

She couldn’t help but laugh at their stupidity. Clearly, they knew nothing of Sarasaland’s matrilineal ruling system, which had been in place for centuries, long before the 4 kingdoms merged into the nation she knew today. It was the QUEEN who was at the helm of governance in her country, particularly due to an old magic that traced back to Easton’s first ruler, Flora. This magic, said to come from the stars themselves, granted its wielder “a deep connection to the earth”, that manifested itself in the creation and manipulation of plant life. It was also the reason why every queen since Flora had been named after a flower. Several historical accounts in the royal archives back home looked upon this ability with great reverence, equating this power with peace and prosperity. Needless to say, they believed it to be nothing short of spectacular.

Conversely, there was nothing spectacular about these people, foolish enough to believe they could subvert such a long-established tradition for their own personal gain. Like her ancestors before her, Daisy also possessed this old magic, making her, firstborn daughter and only child of Queen Rose and King Edward, heir to her mother’s throne. Call it the prideful nature of the Sarasi citizens, but she knew such avarice and arrogance would be the downfall of anyone who sought to usurp her rightful place, especially Tatanga.

So one could imagine her surprise when Peach called her down to the main entrance of the castle early that morning for something left at the gate for her.

“Coming!”

While scurrying down from the guest room, she spotted her best friend at the foot of the staircase, a puzzled look on her face as she carried a strange, multicolored bundle in both of her hands. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“It doesn’t look that way,” Peach said, violet eyes looking away from her friend, almost uncharacteristically. “One of my guards said someone left these for you. He couldn’t get a good idea on who, though...it must have been too dark to tell!”

The Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom then proceeded to hand the bundle over to Daisy, which the latter could now see as...yet another bouquet of flowers.

Yet, for some strange reason, rather than repulsion, something drew her to these flowers. Maybe it was the fact that it wasn’t a huge assortment of daisies, for once, but a tinier one with smaller flowers, instead. A single oxeye daisy was nestled in the middle of a careful arrangement of lilacs, pansies, primroses, dahlias, forget-me-nots, and one blue rose. Nestled in between the spaces in between were white clovers, and all were tied together with a little orange ribbon. Folded over the ribbon was a little piece of paper that dislodged itself, fluttering clumsily to the floor and opening face up. Bending over to pick it up, Daisy caught only a single word written in green ink that stood out amongst the blank white space of the paper.

Principessa.

A tiny grin made its way across her face. If the Italian word for “Princess” didn’t give it away, then the green ink certainly did a good enough job. It was probably a gift as thanks from a walk-turned-quasi-date from three days prior. She and Luigi had only met that morning, the latter looking to retrieve his lost hat from the castle grounds. After introducing themselves, they had walked through Toad Town together, getting to know one another. Their outing lasted far longer than expected, ending with watching the sun set over the Mushroom City skyline from a cliffside. Not only that, but he had taken it upon himself to walk her back to the castle, mustering up the courage to shyly kiss her hand underneath a starry sky just before they parted ways.

That green-clad, dark-haired plumber, with his warm brown eyes and timid smiles, never left her mind since. It seemed impossible to fall in love with someone upon first meeting, but apparently anything was possible after almost getting forcibly married to a powerful alien explorer. Besides, she recalled Luigi mentioning the same thing happening to his own parents.

Maybe the answer lay in the bouquet...

She peered closer at the flowers; there was definitely a meaning behind them. Nobody like this man could just throw a bunch of flowers together without putting some thought into it. Knowing what she learned about Luigi those three days ago, he was far more intelligent than that, In addition, she was almost certain he’d rather let his actions speak for him any opportunity he saw, seeing firsthand how shy he was.

Racking through her knowledge of plant symbolism, she started with the oxeye, a symbol of patience, and worked her way out from there. The forget-me-nots were obvious. The lilacs were purple, noting the feeling of first love. The pansies represented “lovers’ thoughts”, while the primroses stood for eternal love. The dahlias symbolized elegance and dignity, and the little white clovers held the meaning of “I promise.”

Lastly, her own green eyes focused on the blue rose for a good minute, her breath catching in her throat as she finally recalled its meaning.

Mystery. Attaining the impossible. Love at first sight.

He could have conveyed this all in the note, but instead he left it to the flowers to speak for him: “I will never forget you, if you don’t forget me. I promise to love you forever like I first loved you, no matter how long the wait.”

The princess felt her heart skip a beat. For all his talk of being afraid of most everything, the fact that she lived so far away did not seem to intimidate him at all. No ragamuffin noble of any caliber put such deep meaning into a bouquet the way this gentleman of a plumber did.

“Daisy, are you okay?”

Her head snapped up. She had been so engrossed in the flowers she forgot Peach was even here. “Do you have any idea who could have given these to you?”

The brunette picked the note up off the floor and gave it to her friend. “I think this should help you figure that out.” She giggled, and began making her way back upstairs. “Now excuse me while I find a good vase for these...”

Peach watched as her giddy best friend hurried away, and looked down at the note. Upon seeing the green ink, she smirked, almost knowingly. “I knew it.”

[branda]

A Knitter’s Dictionary of Wool Words

A

awe: wonder and amazement [about knitting, knitters, handknit objects]—Vicki.

I’m “in awe” that you made such a beautiful item. I’m “in awe” that you took the time to create this for me.

C

a cozy of knitters [collective noun] A group of knitters.—K.T.

Much to her delight, a cozy of knitters was gathered around the campfire.

G

gratitudiknit: A deep appreciation for everything associated with knitting.—Mary Lou

We nearly burst with gratitudiknit when we received her gift of wool, unspun and rich with possibilities.

H

high plains knitter: Knitting set in the old West.—Ann Hagen

She adored Clint Eastwood, the famous high plains knitter, and never missed a chance to catch a glimpse of him knitting on horseback.

hugknit: A handknit item that feels like a hug.—Lisa

She left everything else behind; taking only her favorite hugknit, the blanket her father knit for her when she was a baby.

J

joyfulknit: A knitter’s joy.—Karen Bond

Grandmother chose a pale rose for the joyfulknits she made, two matching cardigans that her little granddaughters wore to their mother’s wedding.

K

knittinsmitten: To be deeply in love with knitting and/or handknit mittens.—Diane

Knittinsmitten, she filled her closets with skeins of alpaca, merino, and cashmere.

knitter-by: When the sound of knitting needles are a lullaby.—KT

After the story, the water, and the night-nights, I’d sit on the corner of my girlie’s bed with my needles and wool for her knitterby.

knitlifted: When a handknit goes missing under circumstances suggesting foul play.—Elizabeth

She suspected her favorite sweater had been knitlifted from the dry cleaning pile.  

knitter’s high/knitting nirvana/knitvana: That place in a project where it all makes sense and the knitting just flows. —Mary Ellen and Karen

After frogging the lace shawl, he cast on again, and soon was in knitting nirvana.

a kindness of knitters [collective noun]—Margaret

A kindness of knitters was greeted by a parade in their honor.

knitgape (nit-gä′pā):A love that encompasses both knitting and receiving knits.—Sarah W.

She slipped the shawl on the stranger’s shoulders, the spirit of knitgape entwining them.

knitworthy: Describing one whom you love dearly, and who will also love what you knit for them.—Cat

He was a keeper, and knitworthy, to boot!

L

lovehugs: Handknit object that gives the wearer the feeling of a hug.—Uleedog

We wrapped our baby gently in the softest of love hugs, and took her home.

loveknits: Handknits made with love for the recipent.—Betty Danzi

Her loveknits could warm the coldest hearts.

M

memorystitch: Remembering a knitter through the things that they knit.—Jennifer Johnson

She could never give away the sweaters her beloved grandmother knit her, every bit of them was a vivid memorystitch.

mommyhug sweater: Sweaters that when worn feel like a mother’s hug.—Regina Mary

The mommyhug sweater she knit the boys in her life gave them the courage to be brave.

P

peaceknit: A handknit which calmed the knitter’s soul during the making of it.—Karen Bond

He was a young homesick sailor when he received his favorite peaceknit, a sky blue scarf his mother made him to keep him warm at sea, and soothe her own troubled soul.

portable hug: Feeling a hug from a handknit.—Marilyn Rybarczyk

It was a tough time, and the lucky ones were those with a portable hug, wooly and warm on their shoulders.

R

returnknits: Handknits returned to the knitter after the original recipients are done with them or have outgrown them.—Beccary

One by one she mended and washed the returnknits, still rich with memory of her children when they were young.

S

sadknit: Handknits made for or worn at sad or solemn occasions.—Karen Bond

I made a sadknit to wear to my dad’s funeral; it had a rainbow stripe running through it, because it would have made him smile.

shknit-list: A temporary list of ungrateful or careless recipients of a knitter’s hard work.—Karkilic

I love my family dearly, but when they lose a knit I made for them, they’re on my shknit-list for a while.

strickenfreude: 1. [mangled German] The deep wish that someone had knit that for you.—Kay Gardiner

She looked with strickenfreude at the Savage Heart Cardigan; it was the sweater of her dreams.

2. [actual German, in which freude = joy] experiencing fun while knitting.—Sigrid

Turning the heel of her lacy sock was a moment of pure strickenfreude.

strickfreunde: Knitting with friends [German, in which freunde = friends]—Sigrid

She enjoyed knitting alone, but she preferred strickfreunde.

a swatch of knitters: [collective noun]—Judy Welles

A swatch of knitters meets every Saturday morning at Home Ec Workshop in Iowa City, Iowa.

W

warmthful: Handknits that warm the body and soul.—Marilyn Rybarczyk

How could he forget to pack his warmthfuls?

whipstash: De-stashing, followed immediately by re-stashing.—Cristina Shiffman

She took the Marie Kondo pledge, emptying wool from the closets, the drawers, and the hiding places in the cupboard. One late fall evening, on a unplanned visit to her local yarn store, she whipstashed, refilling her home with wool.

woolery: 1. Abode or haunt of wool. 2. Storage space for a knitter’s stash.—Mary Ellen Cortizas

Like an owlery, the woolery is the place our wool inhabits.

[lastbluetardis]

Chemical Potential (1/11)

Summary: Slightly homesick and stressed about her abysmal chemistry grade, Rose Tyler meets quirky James Smith, the boy who sits in front of her in their chemistry class. They become fast friends as James makes it his personal mission to help Rose get through the semester.

Ten x Rose University AU

This chapter: ~2100 words, all ages

Notes: This was written for the lovely @thegreenfairy13 as part of the @dwsecretsanta gift exchange. I’m so sorry this is so late, but the holidays were a little more insane than I’d anticipated. I hope you enjoy chapter one of your gift! I’m not sure how long this will be, but I’m hoping to write a little bit of it per week and share that week’s progress with you.

AO3 | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | epilogue

Rose shoved the graded exam into her school bag, not caring about crumpling it, before she slung her bag over her shoulder and half-ran out of the lecture hall. The circled red 47% on the exam was still burned into her eyes, making her chest constrict and her stomach bottom out.

47%. Failing. She’d just failed the first exam of the semester, just like she’d failed the first quiz of the semester.

Hot tears stung at her eyes and she blindly pushed past all of the students in the corridor until she reached the ladies’ room. There were a few other people in the loo—upperclassmen, it looked like—and they all looked at her sympathetically before she entered one of the stalls and slammed the door shut.

Her head pounded with her anger and frustration. She’d tried so hard—so hard—and it still hadn’t been enough. Chemistry simply did not make a lick of sense to her, and she hated herself for signing up for the stupid class in the first place.

But she needed a science credit, and she figured she would get it out of the way before she had progressed through her program and into the more difficult classes. After all, she’d thought, how difficult could a general chemistry class be?

Very, it turned out. She wished she could drop the class, but if she did, she no longer had enough credits to be considered a full-time student, and without that status, she would lose all of her financial aid. She couldn’t stay at the university without her scholarships. And she was beyond the add/drop period, meaning she couldn’t replace her general chemistry class with something else.

So, unless she wanted to completely drop out of school, she was stuck.

Unbidden, her ex-boyfriend’s words cropped into her mind, telling her she never should have tried to go to uni in the first place. That she should have stuck to what she was good at (which wasn’t school—hence her dropping out when she was seventeen) and not reached above her station. That she should have stayed with him, stayed working in that little London shop, stayed his. His trophy that he paraded around when it suited him, and leaving her alone in their tiny one-bedroom flat when it didn’t.

She knew she was lucky to be shot of him—the lying, cheating bastard—but maybe she had reached too far. Been too lofty in her goals. Her mother had certainly thought so.

After Rose had moved back home with Jackie when her relationship with Jimmy had utterly imploded, she’d worked at the department store, Henrik’s, for three years, saving up her money and finishing her A-levels. When she’d begun applying to universities, she’d applied to a few in the United States on a whim. Her childhood mate had moved there the year before when his job had relocated him, and he loved it.

Rose hadn’t told her mother about the American schools she’d applied to, figuring nothing would come of it. But when she’d received not only an acceptance letter but a full academic scholarship to a school in southeastern Pennsylvania, she knew her decision had been made for her.

Jackie had not been as thrilled as Rose. Rose knew her mother wished she would just be happy with her job and settle down to start looking to make a family, but that wasn’t what Rose wanted. Even though three years had passed since the Jimmy fiasco, Rose had sworn off relationships until she was happy with where her life was headed.

Rose mostly ignored her mother’s diatribe about airs and graces and moving too far away and how Jackie wouldn’t be there to bail her out again should everything fall apart. Instead, she’d mailed in her acceptance to the Pennsylvanian university, and had begun the preparations for moving across the Atlantic.

Now, though, as she stifled her sobs into the palms of her hands, Rose thought she may have made a huge mistake by going to a university in America. She hardly knew anybody, apart from the few acquaintances she’d made in her classes. She didn’t live in the dormitories on campus, so she didn’t even have the typical friendships that came with living in close proximity.

And if she failed out of university, not only would her student visa be revoked, but she wasn’t currently able to afford a plane ticket back to the UK, and would be stuck in a foreign country until she saved up enough from her part-time job.

Though her mother frustrated her beyond belief, Rose found herself more homesick than she’d ever been before, and she wished she could teleport to her mum’s flat and cry that she regretted leaving home.

She was about to prove everybody right that she wasn’t cut out for a life of academia, just because she couldn’t pass a bloody general science course.

Rose’s eyes ached, but finally her tears stopped. She sniffed hard through her clogged nose and was glad that the girls in the loo had departed by the time Rose finally stepped out of the stall. She didn’t need that added embarrassment to her already fragile state of mind.

Her face was a wreck, with her mascara bleeding down her red, blotchy cheeks. Rose turned on the faucet and washed her hands, then cupped cold water in her palms and splashed her face. The water stung her skin, but it made Rose feel a little more invigorated than before.

She spent the next several minutes scrubbing off her ruined makeup and giving her eyes a minute to look less red and puffy. Finally, when she was satisfied that it wasn’t overly obvious she’d been crying for the past five minutes, Rose took a deep breath and stepped out of the loo.

Someone was standing just outside the door. A tall, lanky boy with a messy shock of brown hair was leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom. He must be waiting for someone… but the loo had been empty, apart from her. Perhaps she should tell him?

She looked into his face, and furrowed her brow. It was the boy who sat in the row in front of her in her chemistry class.

“Er… hi,” he said a little awkwardly. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked up onto his toes, then back onto his heels. “I’m James. James Smith.”

Rose’s heart squeezed as she recognized his accent: soft Estuary. It reminded her so much of home that she had to clench her teeth to stop more tears from welling into her eyes.

“Hi,” she said, her voice a little raspy. “I’m Rose Tyler.”

His face lit up into the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen. Sheer delight radiated out of every inch of his face, from the too-wide, too-white flash of teeth, to the way the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. His eyes sparkled, looking so warm and inviting that Rose desperately wished she had her sketch pad with her. No matter. She tried to commit every shade of brown in his eyes to memory so she could try to draw it later that evening when she got back to her flat. 

“You’re a Londoner!” he crowed, beaming. Rose felt her own lips twitching in a responding smile as his voice went high and squeaky in excitement. “Oh, brilliant! I haven’t met a Londoner yet! I met a woman from France in my French class—though that’s cheating, in my opinion. Why can she take French for credit when she’s literally French? And I’ve met loads of people from all over the United States, including someone from Alaska! But you’re the first human I’ve met from the good ole UK! I love it!”

Rose’s smile widened and became more genuine the longer James rambled. He made her feel as though they’d known each other for years and were best mates reconnecting after a time apart. The ache of sadness began to fade from her chest and belly, and she wished she could thank him, even if he didn’t realize he’d done anything.

“Nice to meet you, Rose!” James yanked his right hand from his pocket and extended it towards her. Rose saw the red crease from where the top of his pocket had pressed into his skin.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” she said, wishing she could tell him just how nice it was.

She reached out and took his offered hand. His palm was warm and soft against hers as she wrapped her hand around his.

“Ooh, your hands are cold,” he said.

Her cheeks flushed, but before she could withdraw her hand from his grip, his other hand cupped hers, trapping it between his palms. He rubbed her hand vigorously, warming her skin. If it had been any other person, Rose would have been deeply uncomfortable. Hell, she probably should have been deeply uncomfortably anyway. But there was just… there was something about James. Something she couldn’t put her finger on that made her feel so safe and at ease with him, despite having met him only two minutes ago.

“Can’t neglect the other one.”

Rose bit her lip against a laugh as James dropped her right hand to scoop up her left one. He warmed that one, too, then released it. Rose let it fall limply to her side, then looked up at James.

“If you’re waiting for someone, I’m afraid the loo was empty ‘cept for me,” Rose said gently.

James furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side. Then his eyes widened slightly and he said, “Oh! No, thanks, but I, er… I was actually waiting for you.”

Rose raised an eyebrow at him, suddenly more suspicious of James than she’d been in the last few minutes. His cheeks went pink and he gave her a shy, sheepish smile as his hand went up to rake through his hair.

Well, at least that answered her question as to whether he’d intentionally styled his hair to look as though he just rolled out of bed. Or as though he’d just had the most fantastic snog of his life.

“Er, you see… I’m in your chemistry class. With Professor Young,” he said. His hand moved from his hair to scratch at the back of his head, before he rubbed his fingers against the nape of his neck.

Bit twitchy, ain’t he? He ought to lay off the caffeine, Rose thought to herself.

But instead, she said, “Yeah, I know. You sit in the row in front of me.”

His face lit up in a surprised albeit pleased smile. It disappeared slowly until his face was serious again.

“I, er, I couldn’t help but notice you seemed a little upset,” he said quietly.

Rose pursed her lips, trying to push down her embarrassment. “I’m fine. Exam didn’t go as well as I’d hoped, is all.”

James nodded, a short jerky bob of his head, and seemed to be entranced with watching the toe of his trainer scuff against the shiny tile floor. It made a sharp squealing sound every time he kicked his foot; the noise grated against Rose’s frayed nerves.

“Would you stop that?” she snapped. His body stiffened, and he planted his foot firmly on the floor. Rose sighed and pressed her fingertips into her closed eyes. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m not in the best mood right now.”

“That’s all right,” he said immediately. They were silent for a few uncomfortable seconds in which Rose debated just running away from him when he asked, “Have you had breakfast?”

Rose snapped her gaze back up to his face. He didn’t seem bothered by her rapid changes in mood, and he’d begun rocking on his feet again in lieu of scuffing his Chucks against the floor.

“Well, it’s already ten,” Rose said. James’s cheeks went pink again, much to her amusement. She’d never seen someone blush so easily. “But no, I haven’t.”

James grinned. “C’mon! Let’s go to the dining hall. It’s pancake day and they stop serving breakfast at ten-thirty.”

He held out his hand for her, wiggling his fingers in invitation, but his face looked solemn and vulnerable, as though he wasn’t sure whether she would accept his invitation. Rose wondered what he would do or say if she declined, but a small voice in the back of her mind was confident he would let her go and leave her alone.

But she didn’t want to be alone. Not when she finally seemed to make a new friend, one that could maybe relate to her homesickness, and one that made her feel as though everything would always be okay in the world.

“Yeah, all right,” she said, and she slapped her palm down into his awaiting hand.

His eyes widened, as though he hadn’t really expected her to agree, but his mouth slowly morphed into a wide, manic grin.

“Brilliant!”

He threaded their fingers together. The feel of his hand in hers felt so right, so perfect, and she gave his hand a squeeze of thanks. He giggled from high in his throat and returned the action before he guided her to the door.

[alj4890]

Under the Stars

(Thomas x Amanda) requested @alleksa16

"I don't mind giving to charity. I despise how my profession makes us parade around to do so." Thomas muttered to Amanda.

"People claim they wish to be anonymous, yet there are quite a few here that are posing for photos." She said behind her champagne flute.

It was the night of "Our Hearts" charity gala to raise money for one of the local hospitals. With Valentine's Day just around the corner, many of the ladies were dressed in reds and pinks. The men were decked out in their tuxes and most sported a red heart pinned to their lapels.

Thomas snorted as some more people rushed to the reporters while trying not be obvious about it. "How much longer do you think we have to remain here?"

"We have barely been here ten minutes." She dryly replied.

He slipped his arm around her waist and guided her over to a corner of the room. "We could escape." He lowered his voice and pulled her closer.

She let out a laugh. "You're horrible." She placed her glass on a table and put her arms around him "If you can sneak us out of here without one person noticing, then I will be highly impressed."

He began to scan the area for an exit, causing her to shake silently with more laughter. "If you make too much noise, we will be spotted." He whispered, his lips brushing her ear.

"I think we will be spotted because people want to know more about your next project."

He frowned when he saw a few people looking toward them. An idea came to him. "Amanda?"

"Yes?"

"Remember that scene in Captain America: Winter Solider?"

"Thomas, I remember a lot of those scenes. You are going to have to be more specific."

"Steve and Natasha were on the escalator." He turned her to face him. Her eyes widened and then she moved her hands up his chest.

"People look away from public displays of affection because it makes them uncomfortable." She said once her arms were around his neck.

He leaned down and gave her a long tender kiss. One of his hands moved to tangle in her hair, while the other tightened around her waist.

Amanda broke away for a moment and glanced around the room. "I think it worked." She closed her eyes when he kissed her again and completely forgot about their objective. After a few moments he released her. With her hand firmly clasped in his, they left the gala.

A couple of days later, Holly and Addison walked into his study. Addison sat down smiling while Holly shook her head, smirking.

"Well boss, you and Amanda made headlines again." She handed him her tablet.

"You nearly broke Twitter as the most romantic couple in Hollywood." Addison held up her phone. "I'm still receiving messages about what it is like working for two people so in love."

Thomas colored at all the ridiculous headlines and the picture of their kiss at the gala. Why his relationship with Amanda was in the news again he would never know.

"Speaking of love, what are your plans for Valentine's Day?" Holly asked.

"Oooohhh. Something amazing right? We already told her about the super thoughtful gifts you give" Addison propped her elbows on his desk and and placed her face between her hands, waiting on him to tell them something swoon worthy.

"I--"

"Wait! Where is she? We don't want her overhearing the surprise." Holly cracked open the door and peeped out.

"She is upstairs working on her new novel." He explained. He tapped his pen on the desk as he thought about the surprise he had in store for her.

"Tell us!" Addison demanded, ignoring his cocked eyebrow.

"I'm creating an outdoor theater for her."

"What!!!" Addison squealed. "A movie theater for just the two of you? Under the stars?,

He nodded after the ringing in his ears stopped. Addison could reach octaves that only dogs could hear.

"She is going to love that. Do you need any help setting it up?" Holly stood ready with a pen and paper.

"No. That won't be necessary." He cleared his throat and went back to the screenplay he was contemplating using for his next film.

"What about food? Drinks? Blankets? Seats? Oh! Candles?" Addison began to trip over her own words.

"Addison. I have everything under control." His lips quirked into a smile. "Thank you, though."

Holly and Addison deflated in front of him. They continued to stare at him with the saddest expressions known to man. He let out a defeated sigh. "What is the matter now?"

"It's just..." Addison looked up at Holly.

"We feel like we helped the two of you get together and after all our hard work..." Holly trailed off.

"We should get to do the fun stuff like Valentine gifts!" Addison finished dramatically.

Thomas leaned back in his chair and considered their argument. "Very well."

"Really?" Holly sat down, the excitement growing.

He wrote down some items and directions and handed it off. "Your help with these would be appreciated."

They hopped up and left without another word. Thomas shook his head and went back to reading.

A few nights later, Thomas knocked on his and Amanda's bedroom door. She opened it and stepped out. "Are you going to tell me now where we are going? And am I dressed appropriately?"

Thomas took a step back and let his eyes move along her figure in a black, short sleeved sweater dress. The way the soft material clung to her curves called for his hands to touch and explore.

"Thomas?" She felt her skin tingle with the way he looked at her.

He held his hand out to her and kissed her hand when she gave it to him. "Beautiful hardly scratches the surface with how you look."

Amanda took a step into his arms and kissed him. "Are you sure you want to go out?" Her finger moved down the buttons of his shirt. "Be around people when we could be alone here?"

He captured her wayward hand and pulled her along. "The place I am taking you is very exclusive."

They stepped out to the backyard and began to walk along a path that Amanda had never noticed before. She looked around and asked again about where they were going.

"It is a surprise." He stated. As she continied to ask for hints and even attempted a few guesses, he stopped and caught her in a steamy kiss. He held her tighter when she moved even closer. After taking a step back, he led his dazed lady down the path.

Their path became lighted with lanterns holding candles. Amanda's smile grew the closer they got to their destination. When they came to the theater, she covered her mouth with her hands.

"Thomas..." She whispered as she took in the lounge cushions, hammock, small fire pit, and cooler set to the side of the main lounge area. The screen had flickering images of old theater snacks being advertised.

"Happy Valentine's Day." He said as he wrapped his arms around her.

"This is the most thoughtful gift I have ever been given. You combined my two favorite activities, watching movies and star gazing." She looked up at him, her eyes shining with an emotion he had come to love to see directed at himself. "I love it. Thank you so much."

He led her over to the center seating area and started the movie. "Casablanca?" She said, grinning. "Does this mean you are going to tell me to get on a plane after tonight? Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon." Her teasing smile glowed in the candlelight.

His dark eyes locked with hers as she got comfortable beside him. "If I ever tell you to get on a plane, it is either because I am going with you or it will bring you to wherever I am." He took her hand and simply held it. "With how I feel about you, I can't contemplate the notion of sending you away."

Amanda moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder. She pressed her lips against his jaw. "I feel the same way. I'm afraid we are stuck with one another."

Thomas kissed her forehead and let his lips linger as he spoke. "I can think of no one else I would rather be stuck with."

@walkerinfolkvangr @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @fullbeaumonty @cocomaxley @darley1101 @hopefulmoonobject   @krsnlove @littleblossom357   @annekebbphotography @gibbles82   @bella-ca  

[sw124]

Mythtale:Female! Child!Reader p3

Maid from a princess

Weightless....dizzy.....floating.....

The air smelled of sweet pipe tobacco, flowers and bamboo grass; everything that made your body feel heavy and weak. Your mind wandered in the haze for sometime before...before the aroma began conjuring memories in your head, memories you wish were forgotten...but...you couldn't forget...out of all of these memories there was one you wanted to hold on so tightly...

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

[One year ago]

One week, that was it, one week and you'll be seven years of age and in turn your childhood would end..so to speak. Truth be told you never had a true childhood from the start, since birth you were groomed and prepped for a life best suited to the needs of the greedy people you called your family.

Your the youngest of seven children, all girls. Your eldest sister Tabatha is 22, Silvia is 20, Lillian is 19, Matilda is 17 and finally the twins Fiona and Leona are 16. All six of them were beautiful, long locks that spilled down like waterfalls, cheeks that held the warmest of color. Their eyes were bright, their skin so soft and radiant, you on the other hand...sadly were too young to have such beauty...what made it worse was that your sisters flaunted their beauty at every chance they got.

You unfortunately had to sit and endure this torture day in and out, if that wasn't bad enough you were the target of their vindictive pranks. Always the butt of their insults and jokes, to others you'd think it simple sibling rivalry or tom foolery; what part in life does it say siblings were allowed to humiliate you for no reason other then for the sake of their own amusement. Oh how you wanted to just wanted to scream at them, tell them they were ugly....but that would be horrible. Not because they are your sisters but because of what they could do to you afterwards.

Your mother and father never did anything about the demeanor of your sisters, as a matter of fact sometimes your parents thought it was amusing at times. But as long as your sisters didn't do lasting damage to you they didn't care, how many times have you wanted to run away....you tried once but chickened out...you didn't want to get hurt...by anyone in your...so called family.

You didn't have friends to speak of, not even distant relatives that could help you. Your lovely Grandmama's and Grandpapa's on both sides of your family died leaving you alone, they were the only ones of this entire family who loved you...you knew this from the gifts they gave you before they all died. From your grandparents on your mothers side they secretly gave you dresses that were simple, never ornate or gaudy, perfect to play in. However on your father's side your grandparents gave you only one thing but you cherished it deeply, it was a pocket watch made of silver. Inside was a picture of your grandparents in their younger days....you loved it so much you hid it away in the only place your sisters or parents would never find it. A tiny cigar box tucked away in a secret passage in your closet where you hid everything you didn't want your sisters destroying or stealing.

....Though you say you didn't have any friends to speak of, that was a bit of a lie, you did have at least ONE friend. One you were eagerly awaiting...one who made you a promise, you met this stranger a while back when you found him passed out in the garden early one morning. The poor stranger was so weak and lost, you were the most merciful person in this family so naturally you had to help him. You helped him to his feet and using your body like a crutch lead him to your window, your room was on the ground floor; your window in direct view of the flower garden and its large hedge maze. So getting him to your closet and secret passage/hiding space was relatively easy.

You watched over him as best you could, sneaking away from your many lessons to sneak him food and water....this particular trip you made to your weary visitor he was conscious but somewhat dazed.

"Hello, glad to see your awake." You greeted, he turned to you.

"Where am I?" He asked.

"My home...well your in my secret hiding place in my home, sorry if its small...and dark...my parents would have thrown you back in the woods if they found you instead of me." You presented him with some bread, water and a few slices of cheese.

"You must be famished, you might wanna eat it all."

He only stared at the food, you tilted your head...was he not hungry? Maybe he wanted something different, perhaps he wasn't a fan of cheese. Taking the plate back your hand made contact with a nail jutting out of the wood work, it was a rather sharp nail...the cut was a tiny bit deep. You wince and held your hand close in your other one...you could feel the dripping in your hand.

"Ow ow ow....sorry I-!?"

The stranger was suddenly close to you, his eyes glowing a deep sunset orange..his mouth opened slightly as it dripped with saliva...you were frozen for a moment before reality hit you. The stranger wasn't human at all....looking down at your wound and then back at the stranger....fear was replaced again only with your merciful kindness...you lift your hand to him.

"I-If you need some....take what you need...its ok." You put on a brave smile, of course you were still a little shaken by what you now knew to be true...but you were a host to this weary traveler and you wanted to give him what he needed.

He took your hand and gently pulled it to his mouth, opening his mouth he hesitated..then turned to you. He stared at you for a moment before gently closing his mouth around your wounded hand and began to lap away at your blood. You winced feeling a slight sting from the wound but..other then that you felt nothing. He was drinking slowly at first....that is until you felt a halt in his feeding..you looked to see his eyes grew wider. You wondered what was wrong...before you could answer he bit down hard on your wound digging his fangs deep. You yelp a little and shake...but you kept your hand still, tears stung the back of your eyes.

He finally released you....you shiver violently as you pulled your hand back...looking down...the wound was gone?! You couldn't believe it, the wound was gone without a trace. The stranger was wiping his mouth clean, his once sleepy, drowsy nature was eradicated. He now looked far more alert, you escorted him back out into your room.

"The sun is setting soon but you should wait till the sun is completely down before heading out, just so-" you felt the stranger put a hand on your shoulder, you turn to him wondering if he was still weak....instead he was staring intently in your eyes before he spoke. "Little one, do you like your life here?"

You blink up at him...turning away your answer came out with no restraints to them. "No, everything you see here is nothing but a cheap attempt to keep me appeased. They belittle me, degrade me, parade me around like a stupid show pony or prized dog....if I could I'd abandon this place and let it rot!"

You shivered....you meant every word you said but at the same time you regretted uttering them, they were your family....a family that treated you with such disrespect....you felt your new friends hand on your shoulder....squeezing it gently.

He then asked you "Would you like to come live with me and my master instead?"

[One week later]

This was it...the night in question, the night where you'd leave this decrepit place and live with your new home. You sucessfully snuck out of your room with one suitcase filled with the gifts your grandparents gave you, a few dolls, a small writing set with stationary and lastly your silver pocket watch. You didn't have to worry about anyone checking up on you...they were to busy with the party supposedly being thrown in your honor. Despite it being for you, you weren't allowed to attended; an adult only party as your sisters and parents had said.

You had received instructions from your friend to walk to the edge of your family's property, there a carriage would come. You walked out, into the deep wooded area of your family's property. No lantern did you carry for the moon lit your way, it was only a crescent moon but it glowed as bright as if it was still in its full state. It took a fine bit of foot work to avoid the roots and rocks but you managed, you made it to the roadside. The carriage wasn't there yet...you stood there and waited. You pulled out your pocket watched and with the light of the moon checked the time...two minutes to midnight.

You watched the hands of the watch tick by...the final seconds and midnight would come. You counted down to the very time, when the longest hand landed perfectly atop the twelve you heard the church bell ring...and in the distance up the road a strange violet glow. It grew closer and closer...before long the violet glow came from lanterns atop a carriage...its wood as if carved from pitch blackness. Veils of poison colored lace hung around its windows, its door opened...out from it...stepped your friend....and his young lord.

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

Your eyes stung with fresh salty tears, oh stars how you wished the memories of your family would disappeared already; you wanted to erase these horrible thoughts.

"Human!"

You jump, blinking you looked around.....who...what....where on earth....oh thats right ...you were....you...you're in Muffet's Inn. Your body felt cold an was beading with sweat. A sharp sting came from your hand, looking down...your hands balled into two fists, clenched so tight your hands had turned white. Slowly your fingers unfurled..the tips of your fingernails were painted red...the inside of your hands were now sporting deep puncture wounds.

"Human are you alright?" Blue comes over to you and examines your hands...you whimper a little bit.

Your mind was washed in bad memories.....recalling every bad feeling you got all those years ago....you sniff...before you knew it your eyes turned into torrents of tears. You couldn't stop them...every horrible emotion felt over those years just came spilling out of your eyes.

"OH oh human don't cry shh shhhhhh." Blue threw his arms around you and cradled you, letting you cry your fill....you turn to look at Pap...

....His expression was dark, his ears were twitching...one of his folded legs was bouncing and his many, many tails...were all puffed up..each strand of fur standing at full attention. You could hear his teeth tapping the metal bit of his pipe....

"Wh-what happened....?" You softly asked yourself aloud...Blue answered you. "You dozed off telling us a story, we were about to just put you down in your futon when you started muttering something...you were shaking and doing all sorts of strange things. Then you started squeezing your fists, Pap said he smelled blood...so....I woke you up."

You look at your hands again...Blue took them back and proceeded to heal them. "It...must have been a stress dream..." you mutter.

"Maybe, if thats the case you should lay down and try to go back to sleep...weird suggestion I know but..." Blue gently laid you against the soft futon and proceeded to tuck you in. "Perhaps a proper sleep will do you some good."

Blue gently pushed the blanket around you to make sure you were safely tucked, you were so focused on you didn't notice Pap getting up...but you did feel his entire body flop down right next to you.

"Pappy you have your own bed!" Blue scolded him, but he turned and put his hand on you and gently rubbed your belly...Blue paused...then copied him only curling up next to you.

"Um...what are you doing?" You asked...they didn't answer instead Pap blew out the candles in the room and laid back down next to you.

He was facing you, his masked facing towards the ceiling...you were about to ask again when...you heard him humming. It was low at first but grew...it rumbled a little and shifted in its tone almost like a monk's prayer..like before your mind felt hazy...but unlike before you didn't smell the sweet tobacco...you shook your head refusing to be lulled. Then...he started whispering to you..softly.

"Your eyelids are getting heavy...like bags of sand their beginning to close, your body is filling with water staring from the tips of your toes up to your head...slowly...slowly."

Your body...was complying with what he was saying...your eyelids felt heavy and were closing..your body felt heavy..in...a good way....his voice began echoing in your head.

"There are no thoughts...nothing in your mind.....empty...empty....nothing but fog and haze...."

Your thoughts began to drift away, sailing on a imaginary ocean into a large fog....and....before you knew it....you were...asleep.

End

[Reminder Mythtale is made by @melle-d please check out her blog along with @mythtale for more, all other names belong to me]