#heavy pergola

[bintkhalil]

Poolhouse - Poolhouse Pool house - large coastal backyard stone and rectangular pool house idea

[eztul]

Rustic Pool - Poolhouse An illustration of a sizable mountain-style backyard with a rectangular natural pool house.

[beeandpupcat]

Rustic Pool - Poolhouse An illustration of a sizable mountain-style backyard with a rectangular natural pool house.

[jamiecolby]

Roof Extensions Deck Large arts and crafts backyard outdoor kitchen deck photo with a roof extension

[br0kenangel]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

The Red Keep's garden was a haven of peace, its vibrant blooms and lush greenery basking in the warm embrace of the afternoon sun. You sat on a stone bench beneath a pergola, a book open in your lap. The pages fluttered slightly in the breeze, but your attention was divided between the words and the laughter of the children playing nearby.

Aegon and Aemond were chasing each other around. Little Daeron, still unsteady on his feet, toddled after them, his giggles rising each time he stumbled and was helped up by his brothers. Your heart warmed at the sight, a tender smile curving your lips. These were the moments you cherished most—when the weight of court life melted away, leaving only the simple joys of your children.

Beside you, Helaena sat cross-legged on the grass, her silver hair shimmering in the sunlight. She was engrossed in watching a beetle crawl across her palm, her violet eyes following its every movement with a kind of dreamy fascination. Helaena had always been different—her mind seemed to wander in places others couldn’t follow, and her words often carried an unsettling weight, as if she were speaking from another world.

“Do you like your new friend?” you asked, closing your book and watching Helaena with affection.

Helaena glanced up, a faint smile on her lips. “He’s searching,” she said softly, her tone faraway. “But he doesn’t know what he’s looking for… not yet.”

You chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Helaena’s ear. “Perhaps he’ll find it soon.”

Helaena’s gaze shifted to Aegon, her expression growing more serious. “He will,” she murmured. “But when he does, it will be heavy… heavier than he can bear.”

You frowned slightly, your heart skipping a beat at the odd phrasing. “What do you mean, sweetling?”

Helaena’s eyes, still fixed on the Aegon, seemed to see something beyond the present. “The sun will wear a crown,” she said, “But the crown will burn, and the throne will weep.” her voice low and melodic. “It’s made of thorns, and every rose has its price.”

The cryptic words sent a chill through you. Helaena often spoke in riddles, but this one felt different, more ominous. “A crown of thorns?” you echoed, trying to decipher the meaning. “What kind of price?”

“He will lose a part of himself, stolen by the shadows,” Helaena answered. She turned her gaze back to the beetle, her fingers lightly tracing its path. “The moon will pay the price in blood,” she whispered, almost as if to herself. “He will close an eye to gain a flame. A shadow will fall where the moon once shone, and he will see the world through only one eye.”

Your heart pounded as you tried to make sense of the riddle. “Helaena, what are you talking about? Who will lose an eye?”

Helaena looked up at you, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of clarity in her violet eyes. “And the star… he's the brightest, but he will be dead before his time” she continued, her voice tinged with sorrow, “The star will fall far from home, he will shine brightly before he falls, where no one can hear his cries. The sky will mourn, and the ground will drink his tears.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The words were like pieces of a puzzle, each one pointing to a grim fate for the children you loved so dearly. The sun—the moon—the star… You didn’t need their names to understand whom Helaena was speaking of.

“Helaena,” you said, your voice trembling slightly, “how do you know these things?”

But Helaena had already retreated back into her own world, her attention once again focused on the beetle. “The dreams,” she whispered, “but no one listens until it's too late.”

You felt a wave of cold fear wash over you. Helaena wasn’t just a child with strange thoughts—she was seeing the future, though her visions were veiled in riddles that most would dismiss as nonsense.

Most, but not you.

You gently took Helaena’s hands in your own, your voice soft but urgent. “Sweetling, please… tell me more. What do the riddles mean? What can we do?”

Helaena looked up at you, her eyes distant once more. “You can’t change the wind,” she said quietly. “It will blow as it wishes. But… the lioness can shield her cubs from the storm, if she’s strong enough.”

You pulled Helaena into a tight embrace, your heart aching with a mix of love and fear. “I’ll protect you all,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to Helaena’s forehead. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Helaena rested her head against your shoulder, her small arms wrapping around you. “The darkness is coming,” she murmured, “The lioness is strong.” she murmured, her voice muffled against your dress. “But the storm is stronger.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you held Helaena close, the girl’s cryptic words echoing in your mind. You glanced over at your sons, who were still playing, oblivious to the dark future Helaena had glimpsed.

For now, all you could do was hold them close and prepare for the storm that Helaena had foretold. You would be their shield, even if the dragons themselves came to tear them apart.

“Everything will be alright,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Helaena. “I promise.”

Part 1 ♡ Part 3 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 5 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[cosmichymns]

Devouring Desire

Not my gif. NSFW. MDNI. I’ll eventually put this on AO3. Smut. Just smutty smut.

She pulls you closer and encourages you to rest your forehead on her bare shoulder with a kiss to your temple. You sigh despite yourself. Her scent, the dim light of the corner she pulled you into, and the soothing rhythm of the music has lulled you into a state of pure contentment.

“Don’t get too comfy over there in that dark corner!” Morgan yelled over, catching Emily’s attention momentarily. She smirked, rolled her eyes, and playfully flipped him up. He shook his head laughing and swatted at the air in her direction before turning back to the group.

It was just supposed to be another casual night at Rossi’s mansion on the hill but after dinner, people quickly paired off. Alex and Reid. Morgan and Garcia. Luke and Lisa. Tara and JJ.

You and Emily. Oh, you and Emily.

Rossi’s outdoor patio and garden had always been spectacular but you had a sneaking suspicion that Garcia had coaxed him into letting her string fairy lights across the yard to the pool and down the pergola near the fence. Which was currently where you and Emily had found yourselves.

Emily’s arms wrapped possessively around your waist, hands sliding down to grip the sides of your hips as she lead you in an impromptu intimate sway. You ran your nose up along the length of her long, pale throat and inhaled deeply. Her signature jasmine and clove scent, which you have now begun to associate with safety, intimacy, and peace, filled your nostrils as you let out a heavy sigh.

“You okay, my sweet girl?”, she cooed into your ear as she ran a hand up your spine to cup the back of your neck gently.

“Mmhmm”, you mumbled before remembering she liked you using your words. “I absolutely am”.

Emily hummed pleasantly at that as you moved to drop chaste kisses along her throat where your nose had just been. She pulled your bodies impossibly closer as she brushed your hair to one side and gently started stroking circles along the nape of your neck.

You felt it was too needy to admit out loud but you wanted to be pressed against her always. You wanted your bodies to melt into one. You didn’t want to know where she stopped and you began. Never have you found a love like this. These thoughts in combination with Emily’s swaying and beyond gentle touches had you tearing up. You felt your face begin to flush at your embarrassment as you tried a few deep breaths to try and regulate yourself.

Emily must have felt you shudder against her throat because she pulled away slowly and inhaled sharply again at the sight of your tears.

“Oh baby…” she spoke softly, bringing up her hand to swipe a warm thumb across your cheekbones. She kissed the corners of your eyes, the rest of the world shut out as she focused solely on you. “Wha… oh, sweet girl, don’t cry, baby. How can I help? Hmm?”

You let out a self deprecating laugh at your less than sexy sniffle and looked up into her intense, dark eyes.

“I’m okay just…” you tilted your head as you thought. “I never imagined I would have this. Have… you.”

You dropped your gaze and brought your hands to her upper chest, playing with her small white gold dainty celestial padlock necklace that you had given her after a year of dating. Without knowing it, she had gotten you the corresponding key necklace in the same celestial fashion. You remember the words “disgustingly sweet” coming from Garcia’s mouth.

Emily’s expression softened even further at your confession. With one hand still securely wrapped around your hips, the other threaded through your thick, natural auburn curls reassuringly. She knew you well enough to know words were wind.

Holding the back of your head in place, she closed the small gasp between your lips tenderly. She explored your mouth for a few minutes, the two of you lost in each other, and bit down on your bottom lip gently as she pulled away smiling. Despite having seen it a hundred times, the sight of her beautiful smile always took your breath away.

Your chest heaved now as you watched Emily’s face flush slightly. Your hands caressed down her body, stopping underneath the swell of her heavy breasts. You raked your fingers against the underside of them, almost impatiently, as you looked up at her through your lashes.

It took her no time to understand the meaning of your gaze as she tugged you by your hips over to the darkened corner under the pergola. A loveseat had been dragged over by a mischievous Garcia earlier in the night under the guise of ‘making more room’. You allowed her to pull you onto her lap so your knees were on either side of her hips.

“Let me see how beautiful you are, hmm?” Emily said softy, racking her eyes over your body as you leaned back a bit away from her.

Your fingers played idly at the hem of her navy off the shoulder top before dipping underneath and skimming the soft skin of Emily’s waist. You loved that as she aged she filled out a bit more in the best of places. It gave you a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

“So lovely”, Emily muttered almost to herself as she used a hand to push your hair back behind your shoulders as you tried to clench your legs together.

She eyed your slightly protruding clavicle hungrily and ran her tongue over her bottom lip before sucking it in as you attempted to slip your hand under her linen pants. Her hand immediately caught your wrist and it made you internally smile.

“You’re awfully bold this evening,” Emily chuckled, never once did her eyes leave yours to look at the others around you but the darkness of this corner was not lost on her.

“I just want you so bad,” you said in a thick voice that was even a shock to you and Emily licked her lips. “I need your hand tightening on my throat, your teeth on my shoulder… I need…”

“What, my pretty girl?” Emily’s voice was barely a whisper now, the lust fully taking over.

“I need you inside of me more than-“, you whine quietly. “-more than I need to fucking breathe. Please?”

You could see the instant blowing of Emily’s pupils at this confession as she gripped your wrist a little tighter. You knew she wouldn’t outright take complete control of you in front of both your friends and colleagues so you sometimes pushed her boundaries a bit in public… and you paid for it at home.

“A desire so violent it seemed devouring…” the dark haired woman breathed out unevenly and so softly that you almost didn’t hear her over the noise of the rest of the team.

“Anaïs Nin.”

Emily hummed in approval while her eyes finally dragged from yours and scanned the outdoor space quickly, though you’re sure she had tracked their movements in her periphery. It had gotten late all of a sudden. Luke and Lisa were sitting on another outdoor loveseat, playfully smacking the other’s thigh deep in uncontrolled laughter. Emily smiled. The boys were hanging around the wet bar laughing and Tara, JJ, and Garcia were sitting around the bonfire in the middle of the yard, drinks in hand. She noticed JJ’s gaze falling to the two of you every so often and as you turned to see what Emily was looking at, your eyes locked with JJ’s. As quickly as it happened, JJ ripped her eyes away, blushed, and pretended to rejoin their conversation.

“I told you she liked to… watch us every now and again,” you whispered, turning around and slipping your wrist from her grip. You couldn’t read the look on Emily’s face. “I’ve caught her half a dozen times already tonight.”

Emily’s possessive, jealous side flared in her eyes now as she secretly wished you had brought a shawl of some sort so she could cover you. You enjoyed this protective, territorial side of Emily. It turned you on far more than it should. She pulled you closer to her body, the apex of your thighs brushing the softness of her belly before leaning in to kiss you hungrily. You started to slip your own hand under your already hiked up dress, gliding your smooth fingertips under the band of your lace underwear

“Let her look. Just touch me please”, you say breathily. You had always known JJ longed for something more but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was true you had caught her watching the two of you with curiosity and maybe envy? Whatever the reason, you felt empathy with whatever war she was waging within herself. “Please?”

“You. Are. Mine”, Emily practically growled, leaving harsh kisses against your throat and wrenching your hand from your underwear. She repositioned her arm so her palm was flat against your belly as it sunk into your underwear.

“I am absolutely yours. Always.” You breathed out, letting the statement hang in the air for a moment. “I don’t think it’s me, per se, but us. Some people are drawn to intimacy, to closeness. Voyeurs, you know?”

A moment passes before Emily speaks.

“You like it when she watches, don’t you?” Emily states matter-of-factly as she cups your wet cunt. “A type of exhibitionist.”

“What? No… I mean…” You take a deep, shaky breath as the short fingernails on Emily’s free hand start tracing up your arms, fingers toying with the thin straps of your sundress. “I like… um, when we are *almost* seen…”

“Mmhmm, exhibitionist”, Emily whispers as she pulls down the front of your sundress, exposing one breast. She leans forward and circles her tongue around your nipple, careful to not actually touch it. “You’re so goddamn wet for me, baby. So warm and slick.”

You can’t help the groan that tumbles out of your mouth and you can feel her smiling against your skin. Her fingers slip in between your wet folds to gather a generous amount of slickness and rub it on your clit.

“Emily…” you breathe out as you arch your back slightly, eyes fluttering shut. Your hands don’t know what to do with themselves so one ends up running your fingers through your hair and the other rests on Emily’s bicep. “Em…”

“Hmmm?”

Emily can feel your hot arousal flush against her palm and finally has pity on you, wrapping her lips around a rosy, sensitive nipple. Her index and middle finger start tortuously slow, wide circles around your clit.

You bite back a loud whine, trying to remain as quiet as you can but Emily has other plans. She bites down gently on your nipple and her thumbnail drags over the wet lace over your clit simultaneously. You cry out, mostly muffled by the music but out of your periphery you see JJ’s eyes focus in on the two of you.

You try to pull your body away in vain as Emily’s teeth continue to bite down, pulling your nipple taut as she refuses to let go. Her free hand holds tightly to your hips. Your body reacts immediately to the painfully pleasurable sensation as a higher pitched whine escapes your throat.

“Oh fuck, Em…” It’s high, needy, and loud. “We can’t… not here…”

Emily grins devilishly against your breast, giving it a pop of her mouth before answering you.

“I know, I know, baby. Just breathe for me. There you go. Good girl. They can’t really see us. Maybe just a shadow of the back of you”, she said as she trailed a line of saliva from one breast to the other, pulling against your dress as she went.

The affirmation sent a shiver down your spine as you let your head loll to one side, resting on your shoulder. Letting her eyes fall from your face to where she had been working so diligently, the sight of your reddened, angry nipple sends a punch right to Emily’s pussy. Humming, she takes the other nipple in her mouth, gently this time, and suckles lightly on it. The same way you do when you’re in a certain headspace.

Your face is hot and you feel slightly dizzy. A thin layer of sweat starts to gather at your temples. The sight and sensation of Emily pulling most of your areola into her mouth makes you breathe faster. Her cheeks are flushed, she’s looking right at you, and it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You let out a shaky breath as you run your hand through her hair and grip the back of her head, holding her in place. You try to grind against her fingers but they remain slow in carefully controlled circles. You whine as you feel her fingers tighten their grip on your hips. You feel wet, hot cum pool at your entrance now.

“Emily…”

“Hmmm?” she answered, releasing your breast from her mouth as you notice JJ rearranging herself in her lounge chair, trying desperately not to be noticed. “Use your words, princess.”

Your back arched at the nickname you can only tolerate when you’re too turned on to argue with her.

“Please, it’s not enough. Faster, please. I-I-inside, I need you…”

“Hey, that’s my girl…” Emily coos sweetly in your ear as she takes her hand off your waist, light purple marks already blooming, and tucks a wild curl behind your ear.

A shuttered, frustrated sigh erupts from your throat as she abandons your clit and kisses you gently, your eyes being teary and lips pouty. She tuts you softly with a smile. Without warning or a second thought, Emily slams three fingers easily into your drenched cunt. Momentary pain morphs quickly into an intense, bottom of your foot tingling sensation as you buck your hips roughly.

Emily’s free hand reaches up quickly, palming the base of your skull, and crushing her mouth against yours as she swallows your shocked, long groan before it can leave your throat. You instinctively try to arch back but her hand has you trapped in place.

Exactly where she wants you.

Her thrusts piston in and out of you with such force that you know you’re going to be incredibly sore later. You feel the warmth in your belly seep into your torso and into your limbs. Your body feels like pure electricity as your increased moans and whines become music to Emily’s ears.

Neither of you notice but JJ is staring under lashes now and, though more than 30 yards away, Morgan has noticed a few odd noises coming from your corner of the yard. He eyes Garcia and she looks your way now. Panicked, she stands up and starts to loudly sing along to Africa by Toto in a mostly successful attempt at diverting attention away from the pair of you. JJ’s curious blue eyes still flicker between the shadows under the pergola and Garcia.

None of that matters though because you’re so close and Emily is swallowing your moans purposefully now. One hand anchors itself at the base of soft grey hair while the other tightly grips the forearm of the hand she’s fucking you with. As gently as you can, lest Emily completely deny your request, you push her forearm deeper between your legs. You press yourself flush to her skin now and nestle your face in the crook of Emily’s shoulder. She places sweet kisses wherever her mouth can reach.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, baby. They’re so deep inside you. You’re my good girl, aren’t you, baby?”

“Mmhmm, yes.”

“Yes what, baby?”

“Yes… Mommy”, you end up moaning the last part of the sentence as she rewards you with deep hum that vibrates through your body. “I love it so much when you fuck me hard.”

“I know you do. Are you going to make Daddy proud and cum right here on David Rossi’s patio? With JJ trying soo desperately to catch a glimpse of something and the others able to hear these desperate whines? Look at me, baby.” Emily whispers into your ear as you look up at her and nod furiously, your head still pressed against her long, pale throat. “Then show me. Fall apart for me.”

Emily quickly pumps her fingers once, twice, three times while curling her fingers to hit your g-spot perfectly while she eyes messy, tight circles around your clit. Everything catches up to you all at once. Her fingers. Your clit. JJ watching. The others trying to ignore your moans. Emily’s warm skin. And you come.

Hard.

Your hips momentarily stall out and Emily takes full advantage of the slight position change and fucks you as deeply as possible. She whispers sweet nothings into your ear, talking you through your orgasm. You see the most beautiful stars behind your scrunched eyelids. Or were they the fairy lights? Were you floating?

You don’t remember to stifle your loud groan until it’s halfway out. Emily quickly covers your mouth, only adding to your peaked arousal. You flood her hand with warm, sticky cum as she fucks your through a powerful orgasm. Your open, gasping mouth is pressed against Emily’s throat as you arch yourself into her. You can feel Emily kissing your jaw, your cheeks, your temple, then finally your lips.

This is pure bliss, you realize, as she slows her hand and coaxes involuntary jerks out of you by still rubbing slowly at your clit. Emily sweetly shushes and whispers praises into your skin and lips. She rubs your back soothingly and stills her fingers deep inside you, so very content to feel your muscles flutter occasionally around her. She knows how much you enjoy staying physically connected even after your orgasm.

“You did so well, my sweet girl. You were so beautiful moaning my name.” You soaked up her compliments like a sponge as you blushed even more than you thought possible.

For a long few minutes you both stay like that. So content to be intertwined with the other that you almost lost sight of where you were. Your breathing had stabilized and the fine sheen of sweet covering your body had either dried or had been kissed away by Emily’s full, red lips. You pulled away from her reluctantly, still able to feel her unmoving fingers buried inside you. Emily’s face was still only slightly flushed as she smiled at you but her lips were swollen and her dark irises were still no where to be found.

Emily started to very slowly and carefully withdraw her fingers from inside you after gazing down at you first. You nodded, took a deep breath, and relaxed your muscles that had molded around her. She pulled them fully out, immediately brought them to her mouth, and sucked each finger. Your eyes never left her fingers as she diligently cleaned them.

“I need to taste you, Mommy”, you murmured quietly, still watching Emily’s tongue as she now licked her lips. The need suddenly became overwhelming. “Please?”

Emily let out a breathy sigh and shut her eyes briefly as the pleasure of your words washed over her. “We can’t. Not here. They’ve already been privy to too much. We should get out there and at least make an appearance.”

Emily chuckled softly at your horrified look.

“I can’t go out there! And look at them. In the face!”

“Well as nice as this little cozy corner is, we can’t stay here all night. I’ll be right there with you.”

You sighed and took one last grounding inhale of Emily’s skin before lifting your head up and kissing her sweetly. Always taking care of you, she started trying to make you more presentable by pulling the front of your sundress back up, smoothing out the skirt, and running her fingers lovingly through your hair. You closed your eyes at her gentle touches, enjoying being take care of by this beautiful woman.

“Emily?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you know how much I *utterly* adore you?”

Emily smiled wide before leaning in and kissing you lovingly. “You’ll have to remind me when we get home.”

On the other side of Rossi’s backyard, the group waited anxiously for the two of you to step out of the partial shadows of the pergola before letting out a cacophony of overly sexualized moans. All but JJ and Rossi. The later had to be told something was going on over there because he simply couldn’t hear a thing over this “new fangled music”.

You could have died right then and there but Emily wore a goofy, almost proud smile as she playfully swatted your ass as you both made your way to the group.

Emily took a seat on a loveseat closest to Tara, holding out an arm for you as you snuggled into her side, blushing bashfully. She possessively wrapped her arm around your waist, resting her hand on your outer thigh.

“Get it, dude.” Tara said with a straight face, raising a single fist that Emily immediately pounded with her own.

Alex studied your reaction curiously while Garcia was just flat out relieved it was all over.

“Y’all nasty,” Derek said, playfully rolling his eyes and smiling before getting up to get another drink. “Anyone? Y/n? You must be thirsty after… all that.”

You inwardly groaned but the vibration of it reached Emily and she couldn’t help but laugh. You hadn’t been able to make eye contact with anyone but managed to nod your head.

“Yeah, something strong.”

You chanced a look at your longtime friend, Garcia, and smiled briefly before mouthing a silent thank you.

“Wait, what’s nasty? What happened?” Spencer suddenly interjected, looking around between you and Morgan. The group, including you, laughed at his utter lack of social awareness.

[moonstruck-writing]

Title: Rooftop Pairing: Hajime Umemiya x reader | Wind Breaker Rating: M CWs: fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, suggestive memories and heavy flirting, aged-up Umemiya, canon divergent, AU, teacher!Umemiya, reader-insert, Umemiya calls you "princess" once but there are no gender mentions, second person pov Summary: Umemiya finally has time to spend on his crops, and you accompany him on a summery Sunday morning. Word count: 1k A/N: I never would’ve guessed I’d like Wind Breaker but here I am, obsessed…

A quick sweat drop slides down Umemiya’s temple, but he is too busy weeding to notice. He keeps his crops healthy, but the summer holiday has involved much more work than anticipated. So now that it’s a Sunday and he has finally advanced enough in his tasks, he is taking a much-needed breather on the rooftop.

You are sitting down in the shade, under the same pergola Umemiya built during his high school days. Now that he is a teacher in his alma mater, you can’t help but daydream about the magnificent projects he must be building now, too.

“Babe, come see the peppers!” His voice carries well in the open air, strong and solid, yet cheerful. How does he look when he’s teaching? You walk towards him and wonder if the troublesome teens who seek refuge in Fuurin find shelter in his strict yet loving personality. “We can have some tonight!” The excitement seeps through the wrinkles that are forming around his eyes.

Crouching down next to him, you observe how he harvests the green peppers with the ease that comes with experience. There’s a blinding smile on his slightly tanned face, and suddenly you feel you can exhale more deeply. Maybe Umemiya is right after all. Maybe the answer to finding more joy is all in cultivating your own food.

When he finally puts the basket down, he turns towards you and quickly leans in to peck you on the cheek.

“Ume-sensei, how dare you break the rules like this?” You feign surprise. “You are a model for the students!”

The relaxed smile is almost teasing on his lips, and you can’t tell if he’s amused by your performance, or if he simply enjoyed the surprise kiss. “I couldn’t resist.”

“You’re trying to tell me that, surrounded by all your beautiful and luscious plants, you’re getting distracted by me? Pssh—”

“Always,” he interrupts. “I can’t wait to go home and eat these peppers. And then eat you, too.” You hit his arm before he can think of winking. “What? You know it’s true.”

The glimmer in his eyes tells you he is up to no good, and before you can think about it further, Umemiya moves and sinks his teeth into your exposed shoulder. It’s a light bite and he lets go quickly, but not without caressing your skin with his lips.

“Is this why you were happy I wore a tank top today?” You look at him with half-lidded eyes. He simply shrugs, and the gesture seems to make him look younger. “Get ready for revenge when we get home.”

“You know I love having your marks all over me.” Umemiya’s confident words make memories float in your mind’s eye. His bare torso covered in love bites. That one time you left lipstick stains all over his face and he insisted on not wiping it off until bedtime. How he went as far as teasing you about placing a mirror next to the bed. Recalling that time makes you even more aware of how hot it is on the rooftop. “Do you want a cold treat to freshen you up, princess?” As if he read your mind, he starts walking away into the shade under the pergola.

You follow him and once you’re sat down on one of the cushions, you realise there is a small cooler you’ve never seen before. He opens it and hands you two popsicles.

“Choose the one you prefer. I’ll wrap up quickly.” Before he has even finished the sentence, he runs to finish taking care of his beloved crops and tidy up.

You unwrap one of them and sigh as you feel the ice melting and cooling your tongue. Observing Umemiya’s swift actions, you unwrap the other one when he’s approaching you and hand it to him.

He takes your hand and takes a bite off the popsicle, making some ice break into smaller pieces and fall on your hand.

“You’re making a mess, Ume!” You laugh as you see a watery drop sliding down his chin. “Take the popsicle already.” He obliges, but before you can pull away your hand, he takes it with his free hand and licks off the remaining bits of ice. “You didn’t bring tissues, did you?”

“We don’t need them.” You roll your eyes at the goofy smile he’s giving you.

You finish the treats when a soft breeze starts greeting the greenery. As you get up and face away from him, Umemiya suddenly gets a wicked idea.

“Eep!” You yelp the moment you feel a wet and cold sensation on your exposed nape. Turning around quickly, you see Umemiya licking his lips. “Did you just lick me?”

“My tongue’s still cold, right?” The smile he has plastered all over his face is even bigger than before. You pout and use the popsicle stick to boop him on the nose. He quickly moves his head and bites it, preventing you from hitting him again.

“What’s going on?” You inquire, arching an eyebrow. Umemiya can be playful, but even if it’s the weekend, you’re still at his workplace.

“I told you, didn’t I? You’re always on my mind.”

You quickly turn around to make sure the rooftop is as empty as when you two came in. Then, before Umemiya can react, you place a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Payback,” you whisper, and giggling, you turn around and start running towards the door. It takes Umemiya a few seconds to process what you just did, seconds in which his mouth opens slightly, and the popsicle stick he had bitten off your hand falls to the floor.

“Payback…?” He mutters, the word activating something inside his brain. Scrambling to pick the stick up the floor, and grabbing the cooler, he starts running after you. “I’ll give you payback!”

Your laughter mixes and dissolves in the summer air, and for a second, his beloved plants shine brighter and healthier than ever.

Comments, tags, reblogs and likes mean a lot and they help me keep writing! Anon feedback is also welcome.

Masterlist | AO3

Please do NOT repost. Reblogging is okay! Characters belong to their rightful owners, the plot and content here belongs to @moonstruck-writing

[rustingcat]

Cardigan 

Lena was an early riser. She liked the quiet of the city before anyone else woke up, the colour of the sky before the sun was truly out and the calmness in the air that let her feel free of responsibilities, if only for a short moment. Yet, waking up curled up next to Kara in bed got her in no hurry to get out. She could go without coffee for a bit longer.

Kara was still asleep and Lena was content just holding her close for a while. She still couldn't believe everything that had happened between them, that Kara and her were really a thing. But she believed Kara completely and wholly when she told her she loved her, and for the first time in her life let herself feel secure and safe with everything she was with another person. 

After a long while in bed Lena started to get restless, she needed her coffee and wanted the fresh air, maybe even start off with one of the books she brought specifically for their time here. She really missed reading, it was not an easy hobby to hold on to in her busy schedule. She carefully wiggled herself free from Kara's grasp and tiptoed her way down to the kitchen, collecting random articles of clothing along the way from the ground and her open suitcase in the corner. 

Lena got her sweatpants and a white shirt, but it was Kara's cardigan she collected instead of her own. She smiled to herself as she put it on, letting herself be surrounded with Kara's smell. In the kitchen, the old kettle whistled, letting her know the water had boiled. Lena took it off the stove and finished making her coffee. Taking a small sip she was really glad she brought her own special blend from home.

Lena took her coffee, one of her books and headed outside. There was a light rain outside, so sitting on one of the chairs in the garden was probably not a smart idea, luckily there was an old bench next to the backyard entrance under the small pergola with a small table next to it that seemed great. She put down the coffee and the book on the table and went inside to gather a small pillow. She put the pillow under her back so she could lay reclined on the bench in a comfortable position right next to the table. The view of the small garden was gorgeous, she didn't remember it, but it gave her some sense of comfort. The air felt fresher than anything she breathed in a long while.

Her coffee was gone and she was a few good pages into her book when she saw Kara appear near the back door. Lena smiled to herself as the very sleepy Kryptonian made her way to her and laced herself on top of Lena, her face buried in her stomach granting her a pretty nice and warm personal heavy blanket.

"You weren't in bed," Kara explained, her voice deep and rusp with sleep.

Lena chuckled, letting the hand that held the book fall to her side as the other started curling through Kara’s hair. 

"Did you miss me?" She teased.

"Mmm," Kara affirmed with a hum, burning her face further under Lena's Shirt.

Lena simply smiled.

There she was curled on a bench with the love of her life reading a book on a lazy morning in her first ever home. Shedding their family's past and expectations behind,  in order to let themselves build a new future together. Their very own family.

Lena took a deep breath of fresh air and let herself fully relax. She wasn't sure how she was so lucky to get to that point in her life, but she’d never felt happier. 

Read everything in order on AO3

[hometoursandotherstuff]

So, yesterday, we saw a huge modern, all-white estate vineyard in Napa, California. Today we have another Napa Valley vineyard in Helena, California, but this one is very different. Actually, the other one was kind of boring, and this one is unique. The carriage house dates back to the 1880s. The main house has 3bds, 2.5ba, and costs a lot less at $3.25M. (The other one is $22M.)

Isn't this nice? A sunroom and pergola with vines.

Clearly, this is a rustic style home with a high vaulted living room ceiling, and a stained glass window.

There's a lofted space above the living room, which is very nice as well.

The large kitchen is light and airy.

This looks like a workroom or office and it has a great fireplace that looks like it was well-used.

Looks like a family room.

The primary bedroom is a good size.

There are about 4.59 acres of property with the vineyard.

But, where the other property was just vineyards, this is where this property gets interesting, b/c it ain't just grapes.

Check it out- it has a cave, b/c this property was also a winery. The cave is protected by heavy wooden doors and iron gates.

This was a serious winery. Look at the bottles and supplies, plus the fermenting equipment.

This is cool.

The fermenting tanks look in pretty good shape.

Remember that this cave dates back to the 1880s. It's ancient.

Look at these delicious grapes. Every fall I wait for the stores to have Concord grapes b/c my grandparents had a huge grapevine and they were so good.

There's a barn on the property, but it looks like there's an apt. above it.

Workshop in the barn.

The main house has a large patio with growing beds.

I'm thinking that this rusted old tractor is art?

Looks like a pond. Maybe for crop irrigation.

The house, on the bottom right, is surrounded by many neighboring vineyards.

[fayes-fics]

Congratulations 🎉🎉

Mini-drabble: Benedict, part II, #10

Benedict + If we weren’t in public right now

March 2023 Mini Drabbles Masterpost

Hi lovely!

Thank you so much! 🫶

OK, here is Benedict + If we weren't in public right now. 😁🧡🧡

Behind the cut for filthy language.

It’s become one of your favourite games. At a ball, a soirée, a dinner, whatever the circumstance, you try not to miss an opportunity. It’s certainly one way to liven up boring events.

Often you’ll wait until the other is listening politely to someone droning on - as many members of the ton are wont to do - and then lean over and whisper in the other’s ear. To any observer, it will look so benign, just a married couple exchanging a quiet word. It’s an unspoken rule that you take turns. Even you’d admit it has gotten a bit out of hand lately. Last week you made him drop his champagne glass - that caused a bit of a scene.

Just as you are doing your best to feign interest in Lady Cowper’s latest boasting at the Smythson ball, he appears by your side.

“If we weren’t in public right now, I'd have my tongue inside your cunt,” his whisper is warm against your ear. Every fibre of your body is suddenly on fire.

“Oh no, my dear”, you bluff loudly as if given some awful news. “Sounds like we had better remedy the situation immediately.” You hastily address the group in front of you. “My apologies, ladies, something has come up that I must attend to; please excuse us.” 

Benedict smirks as you turn your backs. “What was that?”

“Change in the rules”, you respond, starting to weave through the throng of attendees, dragging him by the gloved hand.

“I'm listening”, his tone intrigued as you stop short, looking around the room for the nearest exit.

“From now on, you must deliver on what is promised”, you state clearly, spying your target and moving anew.

He chuckles as you continue walking with purpose. “Oh, I intend to. Just wait until we are home”, his voice laced with promise.

You lead him through french doors into the grounds, soon spying the ideal spot—a private section under a pergola drooping heavy with fragrant jasmine. 

“Right, husband, it's time to deliver”, you challenge, raising an eyebrow and squeezing the hand you hold.

“Here?!?” he responds incredulously. “This is not what I meant by if we weren’t in public.”

“Then be discreet”, you shrug with a challenging smirk.

His face morphs from surprise into something far more dangerous, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. He moves closer and speaks against your temple. “Oh, I can do that. The challenge, my darling, is, can you keep quiet?”

“Let's find out”, you squeak, running your hands up his arms to his neck, pulling him down for a heated kiss, chasing his tongue with yours.

Well, 250 words is tough haha. Ah well...

[gayandtransgendersonic]

Sonic was walking down the corridor looking over the vast training grounds of the castles knight barracks, he was discussing business with the knight Silver and the knight captain when he saw a glimpse of black and red in the corner of his eye. Briefly checking if the other two were paying attention, he gazed down at the metal clad Shadow. The man’s muscles flexing under a tattered linen shirt, patches of sweat and blood covering it. Shadow wore gauntlets and a half breastplate, the hot weather not letting the knights wear the full armor that they usually wore.

Shadow showed no restraint, jabbing the wooden blade deep in the other knights ribcage before a female knight stopped them both. Shadow bowed, discarded his wooden sword on the rack, and peeled off the heavy padding with visible relief. Sonic’s eyes didn’t waver for a moment, so absorbed by the sight of Shadow’s glistening furred body under the blazing summer sun that he did not notice Silver nudging him. “Prince? This is a serious matter.” The knight captain had his arms crossed over his chest, and Sonic apologized before tearing his eyes away from his knight. Silver shot him a knowing look, it was a miracle Shadow and Sonic’s relationship was still a secret with how the two (more-so Sonic) struggled to keep their hands and eyes to themselves.

Later, far past the sun had set and just as the kingdom settled down for the night, Shadow slipped past darkened corners of stone and moss to the garden behind Sonic’s room. The balcony was dizzyingly high, but he wasn’t going up there, not with the guards by the gardens gate only a dozen or so feet away. Shadow was going to the small pergola tucked into the far wall of the garden. Away from the guards and away from the castle itself,m. Hidden behind neatly trimmed bushes, trees draping their branches overhead, vines and flowers all sealing the area away. It was discovered by Sonic as a child, his own secret cove away from the expectations and duties of a young prince. Sonic’s friend and brother Tails was the only other person to see it, until Shadow.

Sonic was already there, candles around him turning his blue fur and white nightgown a warm shade of yellow. Shadow’s footsteps alerted Sonic, the princes ears darting up before his eyes. “My prince.” Shadow smiled, something he never did around anyone who wasn’t Sonic or… Maria.

“Shadow.” Sonic stood, joining the knight halfway and immediately being brought into a tight embrace, however their lips didn’t crash together in their usual hasty immature fashion. This time, Shadow buried his nose into Sonic’s neck, smelling faintly of soap. “Woah what’s up?” Sonic held Shadow closely, not letting go until Shadows own arms loosened. “Nothing, just missed you.” He said. Sonic snorted, brining Shadow to the bench. “You pretty much see me every day.” Sonic kissed Shadows cheek now that they both sat. Shadow took Sonic’s lips, leaning into him until both were lying across the bench. Sonic shuddered under the rough gloved hands that ran across his body. Sonic’s own gloves were off as unlike Shadow he actually dressed for sleep. His fingers poked around in the near pitch black for Shadows ears before he found their soft surface. He rubbed them, earning a growl, to which he snickered at, continuing to rub and massage the knights ears. Shadow’s growls turned into a low purr, and Sonic smiled. “Why don’t we take it slow today, I’m still sore from last time.” Sonic winked. Shadow rolled his eyes and sat up, letting Sonic crawl onto his lap and kiss him, claws running through black quills. “You? Sore? I’m always the one who has to convince you to rest.” Shadow nipped at Sonic’s neck, just where he had buried his face into earlier. “Well…” Sonic took a deep breath, stretching his neck out for Shadows fangs to graze over the blue fur. “Captain is suspecting another attack from Eggman, Silver and his team were out scouting the forest when they caught one of Eggman’s minions.” Sonic released the breath, slumping into Shadow’s arms. “How is this different than every other time?” Shadow asked, hoisting Sonic up and bringing him to the creaky wooden table that mostly stood as decorations, as when Sonic was placed on it, the single leg made a worrying sound. “The minion was…” Sonic waved his hands about, trying to find the words. “A clone?” Shadow raised an eyebrow. Sonic seeing the hedgehogs confusion quickly recounted what the captain and Silver told him.

“A clone of Amy… Why her?” The image of the princess came to mind, Shadow tried to imagine two of the girls, cringing. She was sweet but just as two candies was too much sugar, two Amy’s was too much… Amy. “I don’t know, she was completely under Eggman’s control until she saw the real-our Amy, something about the two seeing each other made the other Amy snap out of whatever spell she was in. They actually are getting along quite well!” Sonic laughed, fond of his friend, his once fiancé. Shadow growled again. “And what if there are more clones? Not everyone is as nice as Amy,” Shadow said nice reluctantly, he saw Amy more annoying than anything, “it makes sense why she came to, but what if it was Knuckles? Or you?”

“Or you.” Sonic grinned. “Impossible, there’s only one of me.” Shadow humphed. Sonic grinned wider and ground his hips down, the other nearly forgetting their position. “I don’t know, I’d like to be with two of you.” Sonic barely got the last word out before Shadow pushed him down again, tugging the fabric of Sonic’s gown away so he could get to the hem of the hedgehog’s pants, yanking it down ignoring how the button protested against Sonic’s hips. “Well I’d hate to be with two of you.” Shadow said. Sonic laughed, then moaned as Shadow’s mouth met the area between his legs.

After struggling to stifle his cries of pleasure for long enough for even some of the candles to burn out, the two cuddled on the bench, Sonic using his knight as cushioning from the old wood. “You will be called out to fight Eggman’s army again.” Shadow smoothed Sonic’s quills as he spoke. “Well duh, I’m a capable fighter as much as I’m a prince.” Sonic said, sticking his tongue out. Shadow frowned. “We will worry about it when the time comes, when had Eggman ever been a serious threat?” Sonic nuzzled into Shadows chest fluff, taking a deep breath and letting his fatigue wash over him. He yawned, and Shadow shook his shoulders. “Oh no you don’t, you need a bath and to sleep in a proper bed.” Shadow sat up, ignoring Sonic’s protests. By the time the two were up and retrieved their clothes, the birds started to rustle about in the trees, signaling the night reaching morning. Or at least, that is what the two assumed as they spoke in hushed voices all the way back to Sonic’s own room.

[officialleehadan]

On the Roof

hello darlings! Today's story was brought to you by CJessie! Darling, thank you so much for all your support!

Prompt: Under False Colors

+++

“Pello!” Itenus snapped as he and Pellimus closed around Jiayi. The archer was probably using one of the lighter Quanzhong bows, and while getting hit would be painful, there was a fair chance that their armor was heavy enough to hold off anything but a direct shot. Better, his shield was thick enough to take even a shot from his own bow. It was more than enough to block the lighter Quanzhong arrows. Pellimus didn’t have a shield, but he went heavier-armored than Itenus did. “Cover!”

“Aye!” Pellimus said as they sheltered Jiayi between them. She rested one hand on the back of Itenus’s shoulder, so he knew where she was, and he blessed her for it. This part, at least, they discussed, even if they hadn’t been able to practice it. He needed to know where she was to protect her, but she couldn’t foul his arms at the same time. “Nearest building?”

“Thirty paces left and up the stairs.”

It wasn’t ideal. They would have to cross a lot of open territory to get under cover.

“Hold this,” Itenus said to the nearest of the royal guard and shoved his shield over to the man. They hadn’t trained together much, but this shouldn’t take much training. “Make sure the princess is protected. Princess, stay right behind me. I’m your shield on this side.”

“As you say,” she said, and pressed close. Too close for any sort of propriety, but propriety was second to not getting shot. He was glad she was practical like that. Better, she didn’t do something stupid like wasting time arguing with him. He was in armor. She wasn’t. “I see one. The third pergola, to your right, up four hands.”

“Good eyes,” Itenus praised her and pulled his bow off his back. “Pello, we’re making for that building. I’m covering.”

“You get killed, I’m telling your mother,” Pellimus replied, but he stayed tight to Jiayi’s other side, with his axe up. He couldn’t take an arrow out of the air, but the wide double-blade was enough to be a shield itself when he held it up to protect his head. “Seen you make harder shots. Give ‘em something to think about.”

The light bows the Quanzhong soldiers favored were better in many ways than his own heavy longbow, but they lacked the power his larger, slower bow boasted. More importantly, they also lacked the range.

With an arrow knocked, Itenus waited until one of the archers popped up to take a shot, before firing his own. There was a scream from the roof, and a crash of armor on tiles as the archer tumbled down and fell limply to the ground, an arrow in his throat. He knocked another arrow as he stayed in a tight group with Jiayi and the other guards. Thirty paces wasn’t far, but it felt that way when there were archers on every side.

His arrow, and the resulting death, seemed to have spooked them, and just as well. There was at least two of them left, and two good archers could drop an entire troop if they were good shots. He had every reason to assume assassins sent to kill the crown princess would be the finest money could buy.

Another archer eased up, almost across the courtyard. Itenus waited just long enough to be sure it was an assassin, not an unlucky guard in the wrong place, before he took aim, and fired again. This time his aim was not as good, but it was a longer shot, and the target was smaller. All the same, it made the man duck, and that was good enough, as such things went.

“Stairs,” Pellimus warned, and muttered a curse when there was a whistle, and then a thud. “Cousin, deal with the one on this roof, would you please?”

“You hurt?” Itenus asked, and carefully turned, bow in hand and Jiayi still sheltered in his shadow. The archer who shot at Pellimus foolishly tried to see if his shot landed, and didn’t have long to regret it as Itenus put an arrow through his left eye. “Pello?”

“Hit my breastplate. Decent shot. Worthless bow.”

“Glad to hear it. Princess?”

“I’m alright,” Jiayi said, although he could hear the way her voice trembled. It wasn’t her first assassination attempt, and she took such things well, but she was afraid. She should be. Someone was trying to kill them. “The stairs will spread us out.”

“We’ll take them careful,” Itenus said, another arrow ready. He caught a glimpse of the second archer, but the man ducked down again, too fast to get a clean shot at him. “You lot, stay tight.”

Step by step, they made their way to the door. Twice more, arrows flew down, and both times, they found their marks, this time in Jiayi’s guards. Itenus did his best to pick off the archers, but there were too many of them, and they were too fast now that they knew someone among the guards had a bow as well. They weren’t about to give him the chance to kill more of their number.

When the guard holding his shield died, Itenus swore. He couldn’t bend to lift it himself without leaving Jiayi unprotected, but they needed that shield. To his utter surprise, it was Xinyan, Jiayi’s closest friend and most loyal maid, who hauled the heavy shield up. She could barely lift it, but as soon as Jiayi saw what she was doing, she reached to help. It took both of them to get the shield up and braced, but they managed it, grim-faced and determined.

“Just a little further,” Itenus told them. The reached the door, and he cursed when he saw the lock holding it closed. They didn’t have time for a locked door. “Pello, open the door.”

Pellimus didn’t bother to answer. He simply pulled one of the few surviving guards into his place, a living shield for the princess, and put all his weight behind his axe.

The door was a beautiful work of carved wood and oiled paper.

It was never built to hold up against the full swing of an angry Northman’s axe.

As soon as the lock hit the floor, Pellimus kicked the door open, and led the way inside. “Clear!”

“Inside,” Itenus told Jiayi and Xinyan, who huddled together with his shield in their hands. He protected their backs until they could get inside, and followed them quickly with the rest of the guards. “Get that door closed. How do we raise the alarm from here?”

“I already have,” Jiayi said shakily and raised her hand so he could see the glowing bracelet around her wrist. “But if the attack is on the palace, not just on me, there is no telling when they can come.”

“We’ll hold out here as long as we can,” Itenus decided and took stock of their small shelter. It wasn’t what he would have hoped. Just an unused residence, probably for a higher-ranking servant, or one of the more important eunuchs. Princess, get on the floor and stay there. These paper walls won’t stop an arrow if they see your shadow. Keep the shield for now. The rest of you, look around and see what we can use to fortify this place. If those archers have some friends, we’d better be ready to make a stand.”

+++

Under False Colors: (FULL COLLECTION)

Protectors Chosen

Spoken Word (Subscriber Only!)

Beneath Bamboo

Food and Buttons

Concubine Suspicions

On the Roof 

Build a Turtle (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[hankwritten]

A Tavern Named Keep [1/6]

Demoman-centric Modern AU

[1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6]

In a small uni-town in New Mexico, DeGroot Keep serves liquor and succor to an eclectic yet loyal group of patrons, and has for many years. The Keep owes its success to its equally colorful owner, who always seems to know what you need—whether that be a stiff beer or a word of advice. But, between setting up his patrons or sifting through his friends’ problems, will Tavish remember to take care of himself?

Nestled between the Law Offices of one B. L. Tarch and the perpetually-closed Geranium Germinated Wheat Bakery, there sits a modest little Tavern by the name of DeGroot Keep. One wouldn’t be blamed in mistaking the Keep for…anything else really; the structure is made from a homey, tan stone that gives it the air of a snug residential building (and indeed, its proprietor does live in the room above the tavern, but we’ll get to him later.) Fresh green paint trims the windows and roof, never a flake nor chip as a point of pride. Although the tavern’s name hangs above a pair of heavy wooden doors just off the street, this sign is only a formality, as the true entrance to DeGroot Keep (as transcribed by its sole employee on a borrowed flashcard and taped to the door) is procured from the eastern side, down the hall to the right. This esca of a front door can’t be breached even if one tries; within, the Keep’s largest and most impressive wooden table blocks the entirety of it, crouching like a curmudgeonly boulder. Nicknamed the Elephant, (both for its girth and the fact that sixteen dancing elephants are carved into legs), the monstrosity can only be moved by four fairly-fit adults working in coordination, which is a big ask for the patrons of the Keep, so there the Elephant sits. This is actually one of the least egregious examples of the business’s fire and safety hazards.

To truly access this strange example of an alcoholic establishment, one must pass through the repurposed gap-between-buildings, underneath the pergola, and betwixt two stone sea-serpents if they judge you worthy. The spot of shaded greenery one finds there is something to marvel at, though few do. During the day it is shaded, and as the sun goes down, hanging lights guide potential customers to the actual front door.

This is the journey of one truly haggard prospective patron, newly jet-lagged and irate from the front door’s runaround, grumbling to himself with a distinct Australian accent as he pushes inside. Tavish, as well as the handful of early customers hunkered in their normal pods, look up at the bell’s ring.

“Aye there!” greets the bartender, as genial as they come, slipping into the smile he reserves for courting the uninitiated to his place of business.  “Welcome to DeGroot Keep! What can I get for you, stranger?”

The newcomer startles. Hearing a thick Scottish accent in the deep reaches of the southern United States usually does that—in Tavish’s experience—so he’s just glad that the man’s forgotten to be sour-faced for a second. It’s not so odd that it distracts him for more than a moment, though, and he drifts closer to the bar. “Beer.”

“Coming right up!”

Tavish moves automatically, bottles sliding behind the bar with a practiced ease, acting on hunch as sizes up the man before him. He’s not paying attention to the bartender's hands, instead finally getting hit with the sheer unorthodoxy of the tavern’s décor, the Elephant not the least of it. This is perfectly fine for Tavish, who begins the process of rimming a glass tumbler.

“Flight just get in?” he fields, as his customer gazes around in bafflement.

“…Yeah.” The man’s frown—before with an air of perpetual irritation that was more aimed at the general world rather than Tavish in particular—grows slightly suspicious. It tugs him enough out of his beguilement. “How’d you know that?”

“Just a guess.” Tavish shrugs. “You can wear the sunglasses indoors all you like lad, but it wouldn’t hide those bags unless you had a bag o’re your head.”

There is a moment, a moment where Tavish tenses, knowing that not everyone would take brusque ribbing from a stranger with anything more than offense, but then the stranger fully processes what’s been said. He laughs. It’s an abrupt little thing, more of a bark really, but the tension between them breaks, and the Australian sits down.

“Your drink, sir,” Tavish says as he slides it towards him.

“…This isn’t a beer.”

“ ‘S the same price.” A half grin curls up mischievously. “Humor me.”

The man, now sitting at one of the vinyl-clad bar stools patterned to resemble a vintage bottle cap, takes a hold of the mixed drink and knocks it back. After a second, he sets it down, licking the corner of his mouth.

“Bloody hell,” he says. “That’s a damn good drink, mate.”

The hunch, now confirmed, eases back into the twinkle of Tavish’s eye. “Well they don’t call me the greatest bartender between the 106th and 107th longitudes for nothing! I do my best.”

Snorting, the man says, “Mick Mundy.”

“Tavish DeGroot,” Tavish replies, taking the offered hand.

“DeGroot,” Mick hums. “As in DeGroot Keep, then?”

“No actually, complete coincidence. Bought the place from a woman named Dee Gertrude Roots, her pride and joy it was, founded it in the 70s as a swinger’s club. Anyway, terrible thing happened to the ‘ole girl: ‘twas the day of her retirement, and right as she hands me the keys, that there moose-shoe hanging above the door comes free ‘o its nail. Dropped on her noggin, and killed dead right there.”

Mick turns to stare at the comically large horseshoe christening the Keep’s doorway, before glancing skeptically at Tavish. “You’re fucking with me.”

“ ‘Course I’m fucking with you. ‘As in DeGroot Keep?’ Bah, what sort of half-brained question is that?” But Tavish says it with such teasing humor that Mick can’t help but laugh too. Tavish’s starting to like this man, now that he’s getting a good feel for his ins-and-outs.

Gesturing with his half-finished drink, Mick admits, “DeGroot or Roots, you’ve got a real weird bar on your hands.”

“Tavern,” Tavish corrects seriously. When Mick raises an eyebrow, he blisters, “ach, you’re as bad as the Americans, can’t tell a bar from a pub, let alone a proper tavern when you see one.”

“Don’t let him start draw ‘n quartering you for that,” a voice speaks up from beyond Mick and Tavish’s conversation. “Trust me, ain’t no one in the world makes the distinction but him.”

The three men near the door, whose exchange Tavish has been listening to with half an ear, have noticed that Mick has settled into an amicable conversation, the fact that it’s gone on reasonably long marking him as ‘the alright sort’. The regulars around here know better than to crowd any new faces, lest their enthusiasm chase them off. Tavish has a business to run, after all.

“And that’s what’s wrong with your bloody country,” Tavish points at the interrupter. “No one cares but me! When the day comes you’ll all slide into the ocean, except for I and the Keep, the only ones who bothered to remember that words mean things.”

Ignoring him, Dell speaks right on past to Mick. “Bet he told you he was the best bartender in the county too,” the customer-swiping bastard says, elbowing Mick in the side. “He mention he only won that competition because the other contestant had even fewer eyes than him?”

“You just have to ruin everything for me, don’t you Conagher?” Tavish asks, and Dell laughs.

They quickly round-table the introductions, Dell the only one to reach out and shake Mick’s hand. Mikail stoutly offers his name before retreating back into silence, but when it comes to Dr. Ludwig’s turn, he states abruptly, “and I am a free man!”

Mick falters, but to his credit, it’s only momentarily. “Congratulations? Got ‘ta say though, you got balls mate. Most people don’t offer up when they’ve just been out of prison.”

“Prison?” Ludwig says, eyes immediately narrowing behind his spectacles, snapping into suspicion in an instant. “Who told you about that? I want names!”

“I uh,” Mick says, obviously taken aback. Thankfully, Dell always has his thumb on the pulse of whenever something farcical is about to go on.

“What Doc means to say,” he assuages, “is that he’s been freed from the institution of marriage, not the institution of…institutionalization.”

Ludwig’s mood is gone as quickly as it’d come. “Ah ha ha, yes. Silly misunderstanding. Excuse my slip of the tongue.”

Still looking like he’s been swiped at by a wild animal, Mick cautiously says, “…roight.”

“But yes, the papers came in this morning! As of today, I am a free man.”

He proves this by spreading out said papers across the booth’s table, and reciting in glee the legal severances which he had been granted over a multitude of affidavits and certifications. Tavish, having the misfortune of not being able to move from his post, knows Ludwig’s been doing this for the past hour and a half. Mikhail and Dell have shown him saintly support however, the later patting him on the shoulder as he launches into another gleeful discussion of alimony. They’ve retracted back into their corner, for which Mick is grateful.

“Eclectic lot you got,” he tells Tavish. “Setup to a joke, isn’t it? A German, a Russian, and American walk into a Scotsman’s bar.”

“Tavern,” Tavish says. “And you haven’t seen the half of it. Wait until you meet-”

The bell tinkles, heralding the arrival of Tavish’s only employee and their begrudging chauffeur.

“You’re late,” he tells Pyro.

The bout of muffled, frustrated yelling he gets in response is directed at Jeremy, who puts his hands up in defense. Pyro points at their roommate furiously, laying the truth bare.

Tavish raises a brow at the sputtering man. “You slowed down just so you could stare at the track team’s arses?”

“It’s a student crossing zone!” Jeremy caterwauls with the trod upon hallmarks of an argument carried all the way from campus to the bar. “I had to slow down. And, y’know, maybe while we were stopped I looked, but I was-”

Pyro throws their hands up in exasperation and walks behind the bar.

Mick, meanwhile, has been gazing at Pyro nonstop since they stepped in the door. Tavish doesn’t blame him. It’s not every day you see someone in a fully flame-retardant suit tie on an apron and then put a little chef’s hat on their head.

“Jaw off the floor, lad,” he says to Mick, not unkindly.

Realizing he’s staring, the Australian self-consciously follows the command. “…Sorry.”

“ ‘S alright. They get that a lot.”

The person in question doesn’t even notice the conversation has fallen on them, shuffling to the back kitchen in preparation of the upcoming dinner rush.

“…They wear that all the time then?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy says, swinging into the stool on Mick’s right. “It’s cool though. Believe it or not, Pyro’s not even the 4th weirdest person at TFU.” Jeremy pauses, as though just registering who he’s talking to. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Scout, be nice,” Tavish warns.

“What? I am being nice! I’m asking who this chucklenut is, ain’t I?”

“Mundy,” Mick growls, already deciding he’s not going to like this kid.

“And I’m Jeremy, but everyone calls me Scout, so there, now we’re all acquainted and shit.”

“They call you Scout?” Mick asks dubiously. “Why?”

“Uh, ‘cause it’s my name, duh.”

“What kind of name is Scout?”

“What kind of name is Mundy?”

Tavish, feeling that occupying the new guest is handled for a little while, (assuming Jeremy doesn’t annoy him to death), gracefully withdraws from the conversation in the horizontal direction—sliding down the bar to where his second most care-intensive client is.

“Lassie,” he says, gently jostling her shoulder, “it’s 5:19.”

“Urg,” Pauling says, lifting from the gentle cushion of her folded arms and into the buzzing light of the Keep, illuminated as it is by the faux-stained glass filtering down from the ceiling. Her cats-eye glasses are ever so slightly out of place, much like the stray hairs popping up from her bun as though they too have just been woken from a nap.

Another bartender might be concerned to find a woman passed out on his bar after only one gin and tonic, but Tavish knows that this particular woman is only held together by stress and paperclips. Before she’d come through Keep’s doors, she’d been going on thirty hours without sleep. It was no wonder that she’d walked in, taken her usual, and then immediately slumped over in her favorite chair.

“Wuzz…” she grumbles, then shoots up like a jack-in-the-box. “5:19? I told you to wake me up at 5:14!”

“I know, but you were just so exhausted looking, I thought you deserved a wee bit longer.”

“It’s not about deserving.” The papers that had provided a barrier between wood and face are gathered quickly, slotted into clipboards and shuffled into her accordion bag. “It takes sixteen minutes to get from here to The Facility at a brisk walk, but to get there in eleven I’ll have to punch that up to a light jog and then I’ll be sweaty, and the Administrator will notice because she always notices and-”

A stray paper flutters away as Pauling fails to put it in its appropriate folder.

“Crap.”

That’s not the end of Pauling's troubles either. As she makes her break towards the door, Jeremy scrambles out of his chair and into her way. “Yo, Miss P!”

“Scout. What is it. Kind of in a hurry.”

Jeremy, with his cap a little crooked as he rubs the back of his head, inevitably does not take the hint and says, “yeah you’re always in a hurry, that’s why it took so long to tell you, I wanted to bring it up when it was new ‘n all-”

“Scout. Talk faster.”

“I just uh,” he flounders. “I got a new bike. A scooter, like yours, just because you make it look so cool, and when my car broke down I figured I could make it, uh look cool...too,” he finishes lamely. “So like, in the future if you ever want to talk about bikes and stuff?”

There is a heavy, prolonged movement of air. A sigh if a sigh were on the inhale, sucking all the aggravation out of the tavern like a straw sucking up Gin and Tonic. “That’s great Scout. We can definitely. Do that.”

“Really? That’s great! I mean uh, that’s cool.” He notices that he’s still blocking her exit. “Sorry, let me just uh…” With that, he scoots out of the way, and Pauling is off at a light jog.

Tavish waits until the bell has longs stopped ringing before frowning at Jeremy. “I thought you were over your crush on her.”

“What?” Jeremy seems genuinely startled. “I am! Like wayyy over it, over the moon about it.”

“Not what that means, lad.”

“Point is I’m not into her.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “I just still want to be her friend, okay? That so freaking hard to believe?”

“With you, a bit.”

Mick, watching the exchange with amusement, snorts. Jeremy glares.

“Glad Scout didn’t chase you away,” Tavish says, done with his sworn Pauling-attending duties and free to return to his other customers. “Now that Pyro’s in, we should have the kitchen up and running soon. If you’re staying around that is?”

Mick pauses, and takes a good hard look at the interior of DeGroot Keep. His eyes go up to the inlaid stone ceiling, festooned with glass lamps and beaded tassels that are now doing the heavy lifting as the daylight fades. He takes in the decoration: the murals of lonely bagpipe players inlaid to the wall as if they were tiled there, the stringless harp hung above the bar, the mounted deer head with a cigar in its mouth. His attention hovers on the group of new acquaintances, still carrying on their warm conversation in the corner.

“Sure,” he says. “Why not?”

Tavish smiles. “Here’s the menu,” he says, sliding the laminated square toward Mick.

DeGroot Keep ( all tax included )

Flaming Burritos $11

Shrimp Flambé  $16

Cheese Saganaki $10

Steak Diane $20

Bananas Foster $7

Crème Brule $7

Baked Alaska $11

“He lets Pyro write the menu,” Jeremy says fondly, swinging back into his place beside Mick.

“Aye. And if you ever order a Swedish Glogg, it’s my solemn oath to let Pyro know so they can light it on fire themself,” Tavish says with a wink.

“I don’t even know what a Swedish Glogg is,” Mick says, pouring over the menu in bewilderment.

“Would you like to find out?”

He blanches somewhat. “Maybe some other time.”

At that, the words burrow themselves somewhere warm in the vicinity of Tavish’s heart. Some other time meant the future, meant that even if this stranger was only here for a little while, he’d be back again. The thing is, Tavish likes people. As much as he likes drinks, as much as he likes being a business owner, there’s something special about the way you connect with someone over a bar, one that he’d never gotten anywhere else. He likes this collection of people he’s accumulated, the way ‘regulars’ don’t quite describe them. Because the Keep isn’t a normal tavern, not really.

As Pyro swoops in to take Mick’s—and eventually Jeremy’s—order, Tavish moves a step back, sliding into the background as he uses the moment to drink it all in.

“Hm. New recruit.”

The voice comes from Pauling’s old spot, now a bit shadier than before. In it, a much larger man sits as he contemplates the stranger at the far end of the bar, a bottle of beer before him. He must have snuck in with his spare key, even though Tavish has told him a thousand times that ‘avoiding populated thoroughfares’ isn’t what it’s for.

“Jane,” Tavish laments, though there’s no true reprimand in it. “You don’t need to get your own drinks,” he says of the beer.

Jane draws it closer to himself, as though Tavish might try to take it away. “…Didn’t want to bother you.”

“I’m your bartender, lad. It’s my job.”

Tavish begins the task of retrieving a mug from the lowest shelf, and pouring Jane his usual. As he does, he watches Jane watch the gaggle up front, a look of concentration crossing his already stern features.

“What’s he about, then?” Jane asks as Tavish pours until the beer’s head is just about to crest over the edge.

“Dunno. Haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“But you think he’ll stick around.”

Not a question. “Well, I have a good intuition about these things.”

Jane tilts his head in Tavish’s direction. “Undoubtedly! Your talent for acquiring fruitcakes and weirdos is unparalleled within the state of New Mexico.”

“Aye, that’s how I found you dinnae I?”

To that, Jane only grins, and takes a sip of his beer.

And well, he’s not wrong, is he? Tavish takes a look around at the cozy little community, chuckling as Jeremy inserts himself into Dell’s side of the booth and makes a nuisance of himself, thinking about how he could get Pauling to possibly slow down for a few minutes next time. It’s nice to have a group of people he can count on to always be around, not the least because they’re paying him to make them drinks. It’s nice to have folks to look after.

As a few more people come in through the Keep’s portcullis, he once again remembers to be grateful for everything he’s got.

[rahjasmine]

Faerie Idyll

Summary: A brief drabble of Elain and Azriel at peace in a garden. Inspired by the fun thought of Elain's book sitting on SJM's computer, just waiting for its turn to be published.

Word Count: 829

Ratings/Warnings: None

Preview: The wooden pergola situated along the pond’s edge creaked as a heavy breeze tugged at the ample wisteria adorning each beam. Nearby, a Pekin hen was happily showing her dozen ducklings how to forage the weeds drooping into the calm water. Their fluffy yellow bodies danced in Elain’s peripheral vision as she tried to focus intently on her book. One hand held the small leather-bound tome over her face, blocking the direct sunlight as she lay on her back. Her other hand dangled absentmindedly from the bench that had been pulled toward the waters edge. Her fingers grazing the thick grass like a slow pendulum, in time with his heartbeat.

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