#his peachy gold color is what made me get him

[freshwaterbepe]

I’m obsessed

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (5) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, obx special guest appearances, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Will tag people later, for now I must sleep :) Enjoy!

word count: 3.9k

In which Rafe loosens his leash, but actions come with consequences.

Rafe told you to get dressed and to wait at the front of the house. Truthfully, you liked it better when Rafe picked out your outfits. That way, you knew exactly what looked good on you and that you wouldn’t make some kind of fashion faux pas. You decided on a pink fitted top, a matching skirt, and an adorable pair of brown boots Rafe bought you for Christmas. You completed your look with a bow at the top of your hair and an array of colorful bracelets you put on each arm. 

You spent a while watching men in dark clothes walk the perimeter of the yard and through the forest on the sides of the property. At first, you were quite scared to see them, but Rafe explained that they worked for him. This led you to ask even more questions. Weren’t they cold out there? We should offer them some snacks? Could I make them cookies? Rafe shut down your curiosity quickly, emphasizing that you were not to say a word to any of them. 

When the door to the enclosed porch opened, you expected to see Rafe. You closed your drawing book and turned your head to greet him. Instead, Rafe’s friend Barry greeted you. You’d heard them going back and forth all morning, usually, their conversations were tense, but you assumed they must’ve come to some type of agreement. At the sight of you, he smiled, flashing his gold tooth. 

“Country Club’s little princess,” He sang, “How are you, baby?”

You smiled nervously, still not super used to being around others. It had been a few months now since Rafe brought you to Tannyhill and almost all of your social interaction had been with Rafe and Lana. 

“I’m good, I . . . how are you?”

He walked in front of you, his hands behind his back as he looked you over, “Oh I’m just peachy. Whatchu got there?” 

You glanced back towards the door, wondering if Rafe was far behind him. Looking back down at your lap, you said, “I was just drawing a little bit. Rafe told me to wait here–”

“Drawing, huh? You an artist?” Your eyes tilted back up to him. 

“Not an artist,” You said quickly, “I just like to . . .”

“What kind of stuff do you draw?” He asked, and you sensed sincerity in his tone, “You know, I used to draw a lot when I was in school. Nothing serious, but I couldn’t help it; my mind would just wander, and then my paper would have a bunch of doodles on it.”

He kneeled down in front of you, and you hesitated for a moment before you opened the book. You showed him your page of doodles. You drew a lot of what you saw, including doodles of Rafe, and things you saw around Tannyhill, “That’s Lana, ain’t it?” You nodded, “Impressive. Most people ain’t good at drawing faces. Not you though.”

“Thank you,” You said, “You don’t draw anymore?”

He shook his head, “Not very often. I should.”

You agreed, “You should. Sometimes, Rafe will draw with me. Well, mainly we’ll color together. He likes it when there’s already a picture, so he doesn’t have to come up with it himself.”

“He’s pretty bad at it, anyways, ain’t he?” Unexpectedly, a giggle left your lips, and you raised your book to cover the bottom of your face. 

“I should go look for him–” You made a move to escape, but Barry placed both his hands on the arms of your chair, effectively trapping you. 

Barry hadn’t touched you, but you felt you might get in trouble just for laughing at his joke, “You don’t like my company or something?” You shook your head immediately. 

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant . . .” 

“You’re sweet; I can see why he likes you,” Barry held his eyes on you and you felt the skin on your face heat up with embarrassment, “You know, you ever get tired of him, or he pisses you off – which he will, then you can call me. We can run away together.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “I don’t have a phone.”

Barry smirked at that, “Ask anyone on this island who Barry is, and they’ll point you in the right direction.”

Running away with Barry was the last thing you wanted to do. Rafe had his bad days but you hadn’t considered trying to leave. Barry also barely knew you but you decided to think positively. Afterall, Rafe trusted Barry. You assumed his intentions must be good, “Okay,” You agreed, “When you come back next, maybe you can show me some of your drawings.”

“You want to see them. Really?”

“Yes,” You said, “It’s only fair.”

Barry nodded, “You make a good point. I gotta come back soon and try more of your desserts. That cake you made … I ain’t tasted nothing better.”

“You have to,” You rushed out excitedly, “Rafe and Lana say everything I make is great, I can’t tell if they’re honest.”

“I’m as honest as they come, sweetheart,” You grinned at that, “A good friend is honest.”

“You want to be my friend?”

“I mean, only if you want me to.”

“I do.”

“Don’t tell Rafe though–”

Your conversation was interrupted when the poor door opened, and Rafe appeared, “Don’t tell Rafe what?” His gaze was sharp, and luckily, it was mostly directed at Barry. You watched as Barry stood and stepped back from you. 

“Nothing man, we were just talking about about Kildare. You’re going to let me help show her around, right?”

Rafe’s brooding look turned to amusement, “She’s not gonna step foot on your side of the island. Thanks for the offer though.” 

There was an awkward silence, and you felt some tension building until Barry finally said, “Alright, I’ll see you soon, Bambi,” You waved as he turned on his heel, “Rafe.”

Rafe watched as Barry walked out the front door before he held out his hand, summoning you. You hurried from your chair, moving in closer before you grabbed ahold of his hand. It was his cue to you that he would be leading you somewhere, and you were expected to follow. 

“He touch you?” Rafe asked, leading you out the same door. You watched as Barry pulled around the horseshoe driveway in his sports car. He walked you to his large truck, opening the passenger door, “Bambi.”

“Uh …no,” You stared. 

Suddenly, you were the furthest from Tannyhill’s front door than you’d ever been. 

“Good, get in, Bambi.”

“I’m leaving . . . you’re leaving with me in the car? Your car? Right now? Today?” 

“Yeah,” He said, unsure of himself, “Get in; I’m already starting to change my mind.”

You jumped in excitement, “Really? Where are we going?” Rafe helped you as you started to climb in. He leaned over you, fastening your seatbelt for you, “You aren’t taking me back, right?”

“No, sweet girl,” Rafe assured you, “As far as where we’re going, it’s a surprise.” 

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you settled into your seat. As you pulled past the gates at the end of the long driveway and onto the road, you couldn’t help but feel like all your faith in Rafe had paid off. 

“Who’s that, Daddy?” You asked, noticing a black car that had also pulled out of Tannyhill and was following closely behind. 

“No one, Bambi,” He brushed your question off, “So, uh, what were you two talking about? You and Barry?”

Your eyes were focused on the huge trees that hung over the road, beautifully dripping green moss from it’s branches. Between the trees, you saw huge mansions with big gates and long drives just like Tannyhill. 

“Drawing,” You said briefly, “He said he would show me some of his work.”

“He’s full of shit.”

You turned to Rafe who was gripping the wheel with one hand, “Daddy … I don’t like it when you curse.”

“Bambi, I–” He held his tongue, sighing before he reached over to place his other hand on your thigh, “I’m sorry, sometimes work makes me lose focus. What I mean is that Barry is my friend but … he likes to mess with me, you know? So he might say something to you knowing that it would bother me.”

“He seemed like he meant it,” You said, “Would it bother you if we were friends?”

“Guys and girls can’t really be friends,” Rafe explained, “Especially not with little girls like you, okay?”

“But why–”

“Because I’m telling you right now. I appreciate that you are kind to Barry but he wouldn’t be a good friend to you. If I’m going to protect you, and as your Daddy, I should have a say in who your friends are.”

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly shut it. It didn’t make much sense to you why men and women couldn’t be friends. Why would Barry offer to be your friend if it wasn’t appropriate? You supposed that you never had any male friends before, and most men you’d been around wanted a similar thing from you, “Maybe you’re right, Daddy.”

You drove over bridges with water on both sides of the road and through more neighborhoods with huge houses. Fifteen minutes into your drive, you arrived at an area with a grocery store and lots of stores that you assumed were also for shopping. 

Rafe pulled his truck in front of one of the storefronts. You unbuckled your seatbelt, sitting up further in your seat so you could read the sign, “Fig . . uuure eight …ball …it.”

“Ballet,” Rafe corrected you, “Figure eight Ballet Company.”

Confusion spread over your features, “I looked into it; they have adult classes for beginners. I thought it might be something fun for you to do once a week.”

“Me?” You pointed to your chest, “Dance classes?”

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay,” Rafe rushed out, “It’s good exercise, and you can also do it at home. And it’s a chance to meet friends, friends that are girls, preferably.” 

“Oh,” When you looked at Rafe, it seemed like he was desperately trying to read your expression, “I’d be so nervous. And I wouldn’t be good at it.”

“I think people just do it for fun and to learn something new. And I wouldn’t just leave; I would walk you in and pick you up. Not today; I just wanted to take you by and see what you thought.”

“... It could be really fun …”

“And you’d make quite the adorable ballerina.”

“Maybe I could try one class . . . and if I liked it, you would take me every week?”

“Every week, as long as you continue to be a good girl,” Your nervousness started to melt away into excitement the longer you thought about it, “And while we’re out, I thought we could do some shopping. My research has informed me you’re going to need shoes, tights, a leotard, and a skirt.”

You practically leaped over the center console to hug him, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Daddy!”

Rafe pulled you in close, “Anything for you, sweet girl.”

Rafe didn’t need to get his hands dirty anymore; he could hire people to protect him or kill for him. As he settled into his new life with you, he started to miss some of the adventures he experienced in his early 20s and late teens. There were no more brawls or treasures to steal. He hadn’t realized he needed an outlet for the negative energy that seemed to boil up inside of him sometimes. Now, what he knew is that he needed to keep that side of him as far away from you as possible. 

Killing JJ would’ve satisfied that part of him that has been begging to come out of him for years. He would’ve felt a rush like no other, power and control that he hadn’t felt in so long. He hadn’t brought himself to do it yet, teetering on that line between sanity and insanity. The Pogue was always a good competitor, and Rafe wasn’t surprised that he was still fighting. Rafe liked that about JJ. 

Still, Rafe wanted to see him break, and he was patient enough to wait for it. 

“What would you do to see her again?” Rafe asked as he kneeled over JJ’s bruised and battered body. 

The pogue coughed, and blood-spattered on the boat cabin’s floor. 

The silent treatment followed, but Rafe was used to talking to himself, “I know she’s not over you, but how long do you think she’ll wait before she moves on? Six months? A year? I mean, she’s a wild one; I’m sure she won’t want to stick around this place for much longer.”

“Fuck you, Rafe,” JJ’s favorite words. 

“Maybe you just don’t love her like I thought you did,” Rafe taunted, “I mean if you did, you’d be groveling at my feet, right?”

JJ’s eyes pinched tight as Rafe’s words sounded like nails on a chalkboard. 

The silent treatment followed again, and Rafe considered what his next steps might be. Removing limbs? That could be fun for a while, but if he hadn’t surrendered at this point, what would make him crack? 

“Fine,” Rafe looked down at his bloody knuckles, “I won’t bother you anymore today, but I do have something I want you to contemplate in your hours of silence. Consider the idea that I let you go, and you see Kie again instead of bleeding out here and your body being chopped into pieces. I want you to think, and I mean really think, about what you might do to make that happen. And don’t think of it as sacrificing your morals or making a deal with the devil … think of it as securing your future, okay?”

Rafe tapped his hand against JJ’s sore cheek before he stood and left. He heard no quippy comeback from the Pogue. At least Rafe had successfully beat that out of him. 

Rafe’s eyes snapped open and was awakened from his sleep when he felt a soft finger poking at his cheek, “Wha…” Groggily, he reached to turn on his bedside lamp and found you, dressed in a onesie that made you look like a brown bear,  standing beside his bed, a sniffling mess, “Hey, w-what’s wrong?”

Immediately, Rafe reached out to grab you, and you proceeded to climb onto his large bed, “I-I had a scary dream,” You hiccuped, “Y-You sent me away a-and I was alone again and Master he was so mad at me b-because I-I didn’t make you h-happy–”

Rafe shushed you, pulling you into him, “It wasn’t real, okay? Look, you’re here with me right now.” 

“It felt real,” You whimpered, and Rafe’s lips pulled into a thin line of frustration. He wanted you happy, and he wanted to give you much more than you ever had, and it pained him that you thought he might hurt you in that way. 

“I . . . I wouldn’t ever do that, Bambi,” He brushed tears from your cheeks and caressed your face, “I’d fu- … I’d rather die than let you go. And I’d kill anyone that tried to take you from me. Anyone, okay?”

“You’ve hurt people before,” It wasn’t a question; Rafe could see it was an observation she’d made. 

“Yes,” He admitted, “But I haven’t hurt you, have I?”

“You saved me.”

Rafe nodded, “That’s right, sweet girl. I saved you. I’ve hurt people, yes,  but I-I’m not a cruel person. I wouldn’t do something like that. And you make me so happy.”

Rafe watched as you blinked away your tears and tried to stop yourself from frowning, “What if I don’t always make you happy?”

“You make me happy by breathing,” Rafe tried to assure you, “You’re smart and beautiful, and you deserve nice things. I never had anyone in my life that made me feel like I deserved anything. I never even felt like I deserved to be loved. I don’t want you to ever feel like that.”

“I love you, Rafe,” You were trying to reassure him now, and Rafe was grateful. He loved those words on your lips, and he felt in his heart that you meant them, “And . . . I like being loved by you. So much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Rafe felt you press your forehead against his before you pressed your lips softly against his, “Thank you . . . for everything. Uhm, did I scare you?”

“No, no,” Rafe’s mind was mostly on the thought of your lips, “I like being woken up by cute bears.”

Rafe pulled you in again for a kiss. Softly, your lips moved together, and Rafe explored your mouth with his tongue, slowly deepening the kiss. Rafe was already growing hard, and he cursed in his mind, frustrated by how easily you got him going. 

“You still sore from earlier?” He asked. 

“A little bit,” You spoke shyly, “You were kinda rough…”

Rafe thought back to you, bent over the arm of the couch, taking you deep, but that just made his cock ache even more. 

“But I’ve trained that little hole well, haven’t I?” Rafe asked, pressing the length protruding from his boxers, against your stomach, “You can take more, okay?”

You nodded, although Rafe’s question was rhetorical. Rafe didn’t like you sad, but he certainly like seeing your teary face. Your pajamas were the cherry on top, including the convenient little flap on the back that allowed for easy access, “Turn around on your side, little girl,” Rafe commanded gruffly, “This will help you sleep.”

“Daddy…” You whined as you did exactly as Rafe ordered. 

“Right here, not going anywhere,” Rafe pushed his crotch into your ass, bringing his lips close to your ear. He ground against you as he carefully pulled down the front zipper of your onesie. He needed to feel your nipples between his fingers, your breasts in his large hands. He also needed your pussy dripping for him, knowing he couldn’t fuck you when you were already sore without any lubrication. He reached into your onesie, finding your mound easily, and began to rub circles over your sensitive area, “Daddy needs you so badly.”

You squirmed, but you were tightly pressed against him. He teased you, moving back and forth from your clit to your breasts. He’d rub your breast until you were aching below, and when you started to feel close, he’d go back to teasing your nipples. 

He got you to a point where you were so stimulated that you were already orgasming with three slow and deep strokes inside of you. You were convulsing around him, unable to contain your moans, but Rafe wrapped his hand around your mouth and continued to pump inside of you. It certainly wasn’t as rough as earlier, but Rafe could feel you squeezing him tighter, “You feel how happy you make me, Bambi?” Rafe grunted, “Daddy wouldn’t want to cum in any other pussy than yours — Jesus.”

Rafe finished inside of you. He hadn’t lost all of his energy, though, moving his hands back to your clit, as he filled you up. He didn’t stop until your legs were shaking and you were cumming again. 

“Thank me.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” You spoke breathlessly. 

Now that your Daddy was allowing you out of the house, there were new rules for you to learn. Of course, you weren’t allowed to talk to strangers unless they were girls you met at dance class. You had to go by Y/N, Y/L/N, and Rafe had given you an ID to carry around when you couldn’t be together. If anyone asked who you were to Rafe, you could just say that you were his girlfriend and you’d moved in with him a few months ago. That wasn’t far from the truth, so you didn’t imagine that would feel like lying. 

A few days after he showed you the ballet company, he let you tag along to run errands with him. For most of the time you sat in the car, watching him pump gas, stop at different businesses, and shake hands with men who seemed amused by every word Rafe said. You noticed people tended to stare at him, especially as the two of you walked through the grocery store together. 

“Did people always stare at you like this?”

“They used to stare at my Dad; he used to be the King of this place,” You nodded, twirling the ribbon in your hair as Rafe pushed the cart along, “I don’t think people expected me to come back.”

“Well, since you’re Dad is gone. I guess you’re the King now,” You flashed him a smile. 

“Maybe so,” Rafe conceded. 

“Oooh, look!” You pointed at something in the refrigerated section that caught your eye, and your feet were already moving towards it. As soon as you pulled open the glass door, you felt Rafe’s strong hands around your bicep, stopping you. You whipped back to see eyes narrowed at you and his serious face.

“You can’t just run away from me like that,” He snapped, “Jesus . . . don’t do that, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” You squeaked, “I just saw . . . they have so many types of iced coffee. They have peppermint, and caramel and mocha-”

“Coffee isn’t good for you.”

“You let me eat sweets all the time, and those aren’t good for me,” The words came out before you could stop them. You couldn’t help but feel frustrated. Rafe offered you the world, but at the same time, he controlled so many aspects of it. 

You’d pissed him off; you could immediately see it in his face. His hand still on your arm, Rafe leaned closer to you, “You’re going to stand right next to the cart for the rest of the time we’re in here, and you’re not going to say another word, okay? I don’t want to hear it.”

You let the door go just as Rafe let your arm go. You crossed your arms, knowing you had no other choice than to keep your mouth closed. Rafe didn’t have much to say after that, and you let him brood on his own. 

You were standing near the fresh produce; Rafe was picking out the vegetables that Lana had written on the grocery list when you saw a woman approaching your cart. She had caramel skin and pretty curls that were tamed by a messy bun on top of her head. She was holding a small shopping basket, but she didn’t seem to have any care for any of the items inside as she stomped closer to the two of you, red in her eyes. 

“Rafe Cameron!” She didn’t seem even to perceive you as she stared Rafe down. You watched his reaction closely and how his contempt quickly switched from you to her. 

“Kie, long time no see,” He didn’t express much emotion other than through his eyes, making him appear stoic. 

The woman, Kie, didn’t hide any of her emotions, “I know what you did.”

“What’s that?” Rafe tilted his head. 

“You know what exactly I’m talking about,” She pointed a finger at him, tears in her eyes, “Your day is coming–”

He proceeded to talk over her, “Hey, let your Mom and pops know Cameron Development is still interested in working with them. I have the perfect property for their next restaurant. I mean, an absolutely gorgeous spot.”

“Fuck you, Rafe,” You covered your mouth in shock. 

“It was nice catching up with you too, Kie,” He winked as the woman walked away. 

You watched as Rafe’s hands squeezed into a fist and then how tightly they wrapped around the cart’s handle. 

“Daddy-”

“Let’s go, Bambi.”

“Rafe-”

“I didn’t want to hear it before; I definitely don’t want to hear your mouth now. Let’s go.” 

You bit your tongue and fell back into step with him. You supposed a king couldn't be loved by all his subjects.

PART 6

Please reblog if you enjoyed and let me know what you think/predictions for the future!

[novelcain]

When you did your version of wukong did you have a specific species of monkey in mind to base him of? Or was him a mix of some monkeys?

It got me curious when you said you know a lot of monkey facts and I wondered if you used this to concept him?

EEEEEEEEE! You have no idea how excited I got when I woke up and saw this ask! I literally don't even care that it's the newest one I'm answering rn!

And also! Before I get into how I made the design for ITTW Sun Wukong, something I wanted to throw out is that a few people have asked for me to give more monkey facts after I foolishly /j divulged that I am an encyclopedia of monkeys, so I've been thinking of doing like a Monkey Facts Monday cause alliteration where I post a bunch of monkey facts on mondays! So lemme know what you guys think of that idea cause I absolutely am willing to do it! :D

Now ONTO THE MONKIE MAN!

In Journey to the West, Sun Wukong is described to be that of demon Rhesus Macaque.

Rhesus Macaques can come in a variety of browns, greys, whites, and blondes, but for the most part are largely this stunning platinum gold color like in the picture above. I personally love this this color and wish we could see more golden furred Monkey Kings instead of just monkey=brown.

In addition to golden furs, a Rhesus Macaque's skin is largely a pinkish-peachy color with darker, nearly black, fingers and feet (You can see this in the first picture as well :)). And males tend to have more redish saturation around their eyes. (The saturation of this "mask" on males has been linked to levels of testosterone and therefore the dark/more red the mask the more potent the male, meaning it may be a sexual selective male trait as females have been observed preferring males with redder masks.... *looks at LMK Macaque simps*)

However, one thing about Rhesus Macaques is that they have very short tails. (As depicted below)

And that just wasn't quite the look a was going for. So while I was thinking "Eeeeh I could just say that he's a Rhesus Macaque with a long tail" but as I was sifting through my monkey knowledge I remembered another macaque species!

The Crab-Eating Macaque! Aka the Long Tailed Macaque!

These macaques very closely resemble Rhesus Macaques in facial features as well as fur as they also come in a variety of gingers, browns, greys, and blondes with their main color variation being this brownish-gold. (below) Tho their pelts tend to range darker than a Rhesus Macaque's.

And instead of having mainly peachy skin with a few black tones around the hand and feet, they largely have very dark skin with the brightest parts being around the eyes and the darkest being their pitch black ears, hands, and feet.

And come on, you can't tell me this isn't a Monkey King face:

Plus I might be just a liiiittle biased because my favorite monkey picture is a Long Tailed Macaque:

Just look at this dude! He's so done with life! 😂

But along with just physical characteristics, Rhesus Macaques and Long Tailed Macaques share many behavioral qualities as well.

They both display threats in similar ways, such as baring teeth paired with screaming to frighten predators and other monkeys. Though, Rhesus Macaques tend to be more aggressive and bold (accurate to Wukong) while Crab-Eating Macaques are very cautious and skittish. A Rhesus would much rather fight while a Long Tailed would much rather run.

Another thing they share is their open affection for each other. Both Rhesus and Crab-Eating Macaques have extremely tight knit bond within their troop and with even form best friends from a very young age. Just look at this family unit and how the younger two hold the elder monkey! So sweet. 🥹

All in all! In the end, I went with a mixture of these two species for my ITTW Wukong design, leaning slightly more toward his original species, the Rhesus Macaque, and gave him the proportions of a human since he's a monkey demon.

The traits that I took from the Rhesus Macaques were his blonde fur and peachy pale skin tone as well as his more saturated peach mask, which I blended with a darker blackish-red at the bottoms to pay homage to the Crab-Eating Macaque's darker faces.

The traits that I took from the Crab-Eating Macaques were their long tails and black tipped ears. (as well as the blended mask)

And the traits I took from both were the black tipped hands and feet as well as their long fangs.

While his eye come straight from the book.

And this was the result!

[aquagirl1978]

Undressed - Kicho x Reader (Ikemen Sengoku)

A/N: My first entry for Ikemen Prompts Week 1 hosted by @ikemenprompts. Also part of Falling For You Content Creator Challenge hosted by @judejazza and @nightghoul381.

Pairing: Kicho x Reader

Prompt: Mirror/Love/Color Palette (Ikemen Prompts Week 1) and Coloured in Fire (falling4uccc)

Word Count: 628

Tags: fluff with some spice

“Kicho…it’s beautiful.”

Beautiful was an inadequate word for the fabric that rested in your hands. Exquisite. Luxurious. Opulent. But even those words couldn’t fully describe the beauty of this material. The rich rouge silk was thick yet soft, perfect for the cooler weather. Embroidered gingko leaves were sparsely scattered in shades of rose pink and peachy orange. 

Smiling like a kid in a candy store, you held the fabric in outstretched arms, admiring how the smooth silk draped over your fingers, the colors of autumn dancing before your eyes.

He cupped your cheek in his hand, his pleased smile crinkling his hazel-green eyes. “I thought you could use this to make a dress for the party.”

Your eyes widened in a panic. The party. His party. That he was hosting.

“But that’s only in a few days!”

Kicho’s green eyes glittered as he offered you a sly smirk. “Then you better get started.”

******

Standing before the mirror, you preened yourself like a parrot as you fixed your hair. It was definitely a rush to finish, but you completed your task just in the nick of time. 

Gazing into the mirror, you admired your finished product - an exquisite kimono in all the shades of autumn. The thick fabric draped elegantly over your body, the soft silk caressing your curves.

You were thrilled to have found some leftover fabric in a rose pink shade that complemented the kimono to make the perfect obi. Picking up a delicate gold and garnet hairpin, another gift from Kicho, you tucked the finishing touch behind your ear.

Kicho was silent as he entered the room, his steps as quiet as a cat’s. You didn’t notice him until you felt his arms around your waist, his warm lips brushing against your cheek in a chaste kiss.

“You look radiant,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “Like you’re coloured in fire.”

Your face flushed with heat at his words. And Kicho was right – the overlapping fan-shaped leaves flickered like flames across your body.

“I knew as soon as I saw this fabric that it was perfect for you.”  He ran his palms down your sides as he gazed adoringly at your reflection in the mirror. “Do you know what ginkgo leaves symbolize?” he murmured as he guided you towards the bed.

You shook your head, his body leaning over yours, words escaping you as he lightly traced the outline of a leaf right above your beating heart. “Longevity. Endurance.” As he placed his palm over your heart, his lidded eyes sultry as he gazed into yours. “That is my love for you,” he whispered before his lips met yours in a passionate kiss.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you deepened the kiss, a muffled sigh leaving your lips as he pulled your hips tight against his. His hands left your waist, a soft groan filled the air as his palm slid down your thigh. 

Forget the party, your body wanted to scream. Take me now. 

But you had to attend. You both did, as it wasn’t just any party, but a  celebration for Kicho’s birthday.

Pressing your hands upon his chest, his heart pounding in his chest, you broke the kiss with a quiet whimper, knowing full well that if you kissed any longer, you would both soon end up undressed. 

Not now, not yet, he said with his eyes, his soft smile stoking the fire inside you.

“I nearly forgot…” Turning back to the vanity, you picked up a small square of fabric. “I made this for you,” you said, handing Kicho the handkerchief you made of the same silk of your kimono. 

Tagging: @redheadkittys @lordsisterxotome @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @ikehoe @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @lucyw260 @scorchieart @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @judejazza @xbalayage @xenokiryu @randonauticrap @oda-princess

“Happy Birthday, Kicho,” you said as your fingers lingered on his. “Let’s go now, before we’re late for your party.”

[ladyhoneydee]

30 Day Song(fic) Challenge: Day 2

I really thought I was going to fail this challenge on Day 2 when my creative juices ran out this afternoon, but I had a midnight rush to the finish line, so here I am! It's before midnight somewhere, right?

Today’s fic for my homebrew Song(fic) Challenge is for the prompt “a song that makes you smile no matter what”. I went for a more recent edition to my musical repertoire: "Mellow" by Keina Suda--which you may know better as the OP from the summer 2023 anime "Skip to Loafer"! The dance in the original OP always got me smiling when watching the anime, and so the song does too. And when I looked at the English lyrics for the first time today, I just knew that it had to be SkSw zelink.

Blue and Yellow

Game: Skyward Sword, both pre- and post-canon

Pairing: Zelink

Word Count: 1271

Keywords: healing, love realization, fluff

He knew, suddenly, that he was in love. So deeply in love that his heart might overflow with it, that his feelings might splash all over the bank of Lake Floria and mix with its cerulean currents in a proliferation of life. In the warmest of blues.

Read the fic on Ao3 or under the cut!

The first time Link met Zelda, he had thought she was completely yellow. From behind—to his four-year-old eyes—the blonde of her hair was the same shade as her buttercup-colored dress. And then she’d turned around, and he’d been blinded by the golden sunshine of her smile. It wasn’t until he’d gone home to his parents that he recalled through the starburst afterimages her beaming grin had left in his vision that her skin was peachy, like his, and her eyes were blue. Still, when he looked at her, all he saw was gold. 

The year he’d turned eight—overlapping with his best friend for a glorious three months—everything changed. The adults told him it was the flu, but the flu had never stolen almost one person from every house before. One from Zelda’s. And two from his. 

The world had gone cold. The loss of his parents left him achy and tired; the placement in Fledge’s house with his two surviving parents and older siblings and pet remlit—why did Fledge get to keep all of them? it wasn’t fair—sharpened the few words he did speak like a knife, until he stopped using them at all. Even when he went to Zelda, seeking the yellow warmth of her zest for life, she had turned blue too. She had no smile to bestow upon him. She had no words that could help him, either. And so the children that had always chattered brightly sat together in gloaming indigo silence. 

He couldn’t pinpoint the moment the colors began to shift. At one point, Zelda was overcome with the red of anger, and he’d never been so scared for her before. He himself fought daily against the choking haze of emerald envy. But as months passed, and then years, all the colors began to lighten to a bearable pastel, shot through with that long-missed yellow. 

Laughter began to break through the silence again. Zelda’s first, and the sound had been so shocking that the impact of it against his eardrums sent him physically staggering back. And his own followed a moment later, swooping from his throat like a loftwing. He’d thought it would be raspy and strangled, but it was the same as always, and the surprise on his face made ten-year-old Zelda point and laugh, and he found himself—as always—tumbling after her. 

He always stayed a little more blue and green than she did. She always beamed more yellow and pinkish-red than he would ever muster. But, as Groselle once explained in an art class—their different colors were still complementary. And Zelda always reminded him of the beautiful things that were blue, too: the lake they splashed in during the hottest days; the berries they stole from the bushes near the pumpkin patches; the beetles he dared her to lick; the open sky they soared in side-by-side. 

He came to accept his blue, and the way it made the yellow he felt in her company feel even brighter. 

Of course, he didn’t have that much time to bask in it. The tornado. The quest. His introduction to the world of red red red at last, through the blood he spilled and the blood he lost and the blood-boiling rage he felt when Ghirahim dared threaten her. 

When it was all over, they’d switched places. Zelda was once again a mottled blue, bruised from the loss of another beloved companion and protector, no matter how she tried to hide it under feigned interest in the Surface. Link was still stained all over with the red he pushed away and clung to in turn. Once again, they clutched one another in silence, hands grasping for the other’s shirts and hands and memories. 

Until, one day, they began to talk. 

“Can you wash the knife? I don’t feel comfortable holding it, after…everything.”

“Of course I can, Link. Is it…because of what you went through? The violence?”

“...no. It’s… No blade feels right in my hand, anymore. They’re not Fi.”

A comforting touch on his shoulder, despite the wetness of her palm that soaked his simple shirt. “She’ll make her way back to you someday. Even if it’s in the far future.”

And he knew she would. Demise’s curse would make sure of that. They would be stuck repeating these fleeting moments of joy within an immense future of heartache. And yet…

Just like they had when Link was a child, the colors began to lighten, and the skies began to brighten. His red washed through with the familiar blue more and more, but he found he preferred it. Anger had made him strong, once, when he needed to be little more than an extension of his blade—but now, he wanted to accept his weakness. Now that he had someone by his side once more to help hold him up when his knees buckled, and would allow him to steady her in return. 

Springtime on the Surface was bright sun, strong breeze, the sound of birds. He’d woken that morning to a note on the pillow beside him. 

Come find me, sleepyhead! You get one hint: the true blue banks.

He trekked to the shores of Lake Floria with an endeared, indulgent smile on his face, and some pastries brought down from Piper’s restaurant in his satchel. The air was warmer here, with the heat sink of the waters having kept the weather in the area more mild, and he lifted the simple knitted cap—his best work was still ugly as a bokoblin’s mug, but Zelda had been so excited for him upon its completion that he smiled every time he grabbed it from their hat rack—he’d taken to wearing on cold days off of his head and stuffed it into his satchel as well. His hair immediately blew into his face. Unlike frustrations of flights long-past when he’d just started learning, the distraction was amusing and nostalgic to him now.

He turned the corner. And there she stood.

Yellow. In the sunlight in her spun-gold hair. In the open curiosity of her gaze as she gently fingered the petals of a freshly-blossomed flower. In the sundress she wore, so like the one he’d met her in. In the bright, peaceful happiness illuminating her like a dandelion halo. 

For a moment, it was all he could do to stand there and stare at her. He’d always known she was beautiful, inside and out, but there was something about her hair in the wind, free as a bird…the perfect curve of her pink lips…the curve of her upturned face as she sought the warmth of the sun…

Oh.

He knew, suddenly, that he was in love. So deeply in love that his heart might overflow with it, that his feelings might splash all over the bank of Lake Floria and mix with its cerulean currents in a proliferation of life. In the warmest of blues. 

He called her name—her name, not the hand-me-down from the goddess of their people—and she turned, smile overtaking her whole face. She waved excitedly, and began to call a greeting.

But he was racing across the clearing already, springing haphazardly over patches of flowers in his way so he and Zelda could admire them later, thudding heart like a loftwing’s wingbeats in his throat. He opened his arms so she could see what was coming—he saw her widened eyes curve into affectionate half-moons and her own arms raise—

And he crashed into her embrace, feeling a soul-rending rightness like never before as her warmth encompassed his entire being.

They were the sun and the sky. 

“Good morning,” he whispered. “I love you.”

[charlenasaxen]

Crown and Court Quotes

“we also have the remarkable color trees: huge, long-lived goldenwoods and bluewoods”

“I want to die hearing the windharps. Already the Hill Folk mourn me…”

“All my life I have kept the Covenant, and I shall die keeping it.”

“Papa, please. Rest. Be easy—”

“Promise!” He gripped our hands.

“You’re a good boy, Branaric. No, a man now…”

“This time when we each gripped his fingers, there was no response”

“Branaric stood helplessly, staring at the still figure in the bed. Feeling numb—unreal—I took Papa’s thin hands, which were still warm.”

“we stood there for a long time, crying together while the cold wind swirled round us”

“you and me, even if we disagree—which I hope won’t happen. All we have now is this old castle”

Bran raised his hands. “Then we are on our own, sister.”

“A countess wearing a horse blanket and a count who hates fighting, leading a war”

“His dark blue eyes seemed darker with the intensity”

“But it had to be done—and we had to do it together”

“wordlessly, accompanied by their strange music—which was a kind of magic in itself—we would dance to somber cadence, sharing memory, and grief, and promise.”

“The old green velvet, left from Papa’s wardrobe, nicely set off Bran’s tall, rangy build. His face was long and sharp boned”

“if they laughed me out into the snow, you know I’d go right back at them, sword in hand”

“I glanced back in question, but the only thing to see was Bran unlacing his tunic”

the humor gone. “I made him up some good things to eat,” she said. “Let me fetch the pack.”

“Then he mounted, gave us a quick salute, and soon was gone. He didn’t like saying farewells any more than I did.”

“Though I still missed my brother”

“We moved into the cleared space, which was now dappled with blossoms”

“Tension relaxed into surprise as my brother rode up”

his eyes clearing. “The war. It’s here,”

“Good!” Bran said, laughing as he brandished his cider.

“Three times we sat on the cliffs above and cracked jokes while the army milled around”

“when they emerged, the stranger had the white plume of leadership”

“We’ll give him two weeks,” I crowed. “And then we’ll send him scurrying back to his tailor.”

“looking not at the map but at us, his old eyes sad”

“Branaric’s voice was a low rumble”

“no music, or laughter, or family to celebrate. Flower Day was celebrated with fine dresses and satin slippers and expensive gifts. Did he pity us?”

he grabbed me in a sudden, fierce hug. “Next year,” he said in a husky voice.

“overseen by a straight figure in a black cloak riding back and forth along a high ridge”

“Oria stood there grinning, her dark eyes crinkled to slivers. Flowers had been set all around my little tent, early spring blooms of every color.”

“gazed up at the black interlacing of leaves, through which the rainbow-hued stars made a pattern of heedless beauty.”

“Here y’are, m’lord. She’s awake.”

“Bran?” I croaked.

“Large gray eyes surveyed me. Astraight nose, chiseled bones. All this framed by long pale blond hair.”

“your probable future is not the kind to excite general envy”

Diving through the tent flap, I screamed with all my failing strength, “BRAN!”

“It desolates me to disappoint you, but your brother is not here.”

“As a crack it was pretty weak, but the amusement deepened in the light voice”

“Haha,” I gloated

“the reflected peachy gold glow touched the valleys and fields with warm light”

“reaching toward the distant sea. Such profligate beauty lifted my spirits”

“Unfortunately, this elevated mood disappeared with the sun”

“a steady, drizzling rain began to fall. Faintly, in the distance, I heard bells tolling”

“near the pool where the water fell. One chance of escape gone. I’d never get to the horse before he could stop me.”

“You appear to need it more than I do.” He smiled. “Go ahead.”

“The firelight played over his face. He watched me.”

“for some rock-headed reason?”

“Say what you want.” I sniffed. “It’s not like I can duff off in a huff if you’re impolite.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

He smiled.

“Once I was on the animal’s back, it wouldn’t matter if the man woke up—in fact, it might be nice to see that Court-bred composure shattered”

“gold-candles and the beginning of another day”

“I squinted, trying to equate this tall, slim figure with that arrogant plume-helmed commander”

“to a Court decoration.”

“‘Court decoration’?” he repeated, with a faint smile.

“Marquis of Shevraeth, Galdran’s commander-in-chief, grinned. It was the first real grin I’d seen on his face”

“He tossed a dagger across the fire. It spun through the air and landed hilt-deep in the ground next to my hand.”

“my companion was right next to me. The dagger was back in its sheath at his belt”

“He whistled, and the dapple-gray trotted obediently up, head tossing”

“marquis was right in front of me, and he was a lot taller than he appeared when seated”

“In one hand were the horse’s reins, and he held the other hand out in an offer”

“His gloves were still at his belt, and I noticed again that his palm was crossed with calluses”

“He put his hands on my waist and boosted me up onto the horse—and I couldn’t help but notice it didn’t take all that much effort”

“The less said about that morning’s ride, the better. I would have been uncomfortable even if I’d been riding with Branaric.”

“We only had one conversation, right at the start, when he apologized”

“When the great mage built bridge came into view I felt Shevraeth’s arm tighten”

“horse boy leaped to his feet, and all three bowed low”

“How could I effect an escape when I had as much spunk as a pot of over-boiled noodles?”

“I was impressed. Ordered gardens, flower-banked canals, well-dressed people.”

“whatever I said, might very well get carried to Branaric. I owed it to the people at home not to rug-crawl to this villain.”

“their spears thudded to the floor with a noise that sounded like doom”

“a tall figure with a long black cloak walked past us, plumed and coroneted”

“At his side hung his sword; his hair was braided. He passed by without so much as a glance.”

“piece of gold wood so beautifully veined with golds and reds and umbers it looked like fire”

“People came, in twos and threes and fours, to stare at me”

“Bribery! If things could come in, couldn’t something go out?”

“At night, another blanket, which disappeared the next morning—this time with an apologetic murmur from the guard”

“And of course it had to be while I was like this—about the lowest I’d sunk yet—that the Marquis of Shevraeth chose to reappear in my life”

“The door opened and a tall, glittering figure. I stared blankly at the torch-bearing aristocrat.”

“He was resplendent in black and crimson velvet embroidered over with gold and set with rubies. More rubies glittered on his fingers and in his pale braided hair.”

“the familiar gray eyes”

“It was the first real expression I’d ever seen from him, but by then I was in no mood to appreciate it”

“Renselaeus…” I repeated, then grinned. The princess was the mother of the marquis.

“Down with Merindar,” he murmured. “Farewell, my lady.”

She rolled her eyes. “My brother. He’s ten. Horrid age!”

“I have a garden—it’s my own. All the spring blooms are out.”

“beyond, purple in the distance, the mountains. My mountains.”

“I tried it from several rooms. See, the roses are there, and the climbing vine makes a frame.”

“And that Shevraeth,” I added somewhat bitterly.

“our youths killed. And sometimes not just the youths. We could have a better king, but not at the cost of our towns and farms being laid waste.”

“Who had died while trying to rescue me? Those people would never see the sun set again.”

“Just so could I envision an army trampling Ara’s garden, their minds filled with thoughts of victory.”

“That I do not know,” the man said. “I concern myself with what is mine, and I try to help my neighbors.”

“The next morning Ara seemed resigned about my leaving. She reminded me of my promise three times, then offered to brush out my hair.”

“I haven’t cut it since my mother was killed. Swore I wouldn’t until—well, she was avenged,”

“there was a strong part of me that would have been happy to sit in their garden and listen to music”

Ara sighed with happy sentimentality. “You are so graceful, like a bird. And beautiful!”

“Ara pressed her lips together, winked at me, then fled”

“a white-bearded shepherd approached from the other side, clucking to a flock of sheep”

“walked above the road where days ago I had been taken in the other direction by Shevraeth”

“A single rider on a dapple-gray. Tall in the saddle, long blond hair flying.”

“his head lifted slightly, turned, and he stared straight into my eyes”

“of course I’d been sitting, so there was no limp or bandage to give me away”

“Haven’t any coins. Shall I sweep the prints away?”

“I wish you’d been a handsome boy instead, for then I’d demand a kiss as payment.”

“the flash of embroidered sleeves and the whirl of skirts flickered between me and the king’s commander”

“one that promised such fun I could almost hear Bran’s laughter”

“The reins went flying. I grabbed at them with my free hand and thrust the meat pie into my mouth with the other.”

“somewhere behind me, a horn blared a summons.

The chase was on!”

with my right foot gave the horse’s flank a good smack. “Run!” I yelled, scrambling up.

“Oh, joy. The marquis was somewhere around.”

Then a familiar drawl, not ten paces from me: “Search the houses.”

“Did one of them have a pale yellow top? I could see him standing there narrow-eyed, looking around.”

“So my only hope was to make him so angry he’d kill me outright and save us both a lot of effort”

“And saw the Marquis of Shevraeth standing framed in the doorway”

“The Marquis strolled forward, indicated the knife with a neatly gloved hand, and gave me a faint smile.”

“I trust the timing was more or less advantageous?”

“More or less,” I managed.

“picturing the elegant marquis”

“the idea of waking up in his arms again”

“a toasted length of bread that turned out to have grilled trout, cheese, and greens”

“a castle, built on either side of a spectacular waterfall. An equally fantastic bridge lined with old trees crossed from one side to the other.”

“the floors were of exceptionally fine mosaic in a complicated pattern. Along one wall were high, arched windows”

“almost hidden by slanting rays of sun, was a tall figure with pale blond hair”

I stood with my back to the door. We were alone.

“Welcome to Renselaeus, Lady Meliara.”

He raised his cup in salute and took a drink. “Would you like to sit down?”

“The light fell on the side of his face. Like that first morning.”

“Giving a wail of sheer rage, I plucked a heavy silver candleholder and flung it straight at his head. He caught it one-handed, and set it gently in its place.”

there was my brother, tall, thinner than I remembered, and clean. “Mel!”

“Bran,” I squawked, and hurled myself into his arms.

“Mmm.” He hugged me again. “Tell me.”

“Vivid images chased through my mind: Shevraeth over the campfire”

“He strolled out like it was a ballroom floor, cool as you please”

“said you were safe in his care—what’s that?”

“I said, ‘Hah!’”

He grinned.

“reminded me of a stream in a forest. Trees grew alongside a wide running bath, all tiled and blue”

“wrapped in a cape-sized towel that had been kept warm on heatstones”

“Tiny golden birds had been embroidered at the neck and down either side”

“Tiny slits had been made at shoulders and elbows to pull through tufts of the silken underdress of pale gold”

“to me, in the suavest voice, as if I hadn’t flung a candleholder at his head a little while before”

“acutely aware of that bland-faced, elegantly dressed marquis right behind”

his mouth stayed solemn—I knew I’d seen that expression before. “Please. You have only to ask.”

“that ended rather abruptly when a candleholder—ah—changed hands”

“Shevraeth himself was there to bid us farewell”

Bran saw this, and sighed. “Another time, I trust.” I realized then that he actually liked the marquis.

Shevraeth bowed to me. There was no irony visible in face or manner as he wished me a safe journey, but my face still burned as I gritted out a stilted “Thank you.”

“Bend down, bend—ah!” Bran’s body jerked, then he fell forward, an arrow in his back.

“The last glimpse I had of Bran was of his blanched face and his anxious eyes watching me”

“Branaric, my fun-loving, trusting brother”

“We can’t win, not now,” I said, with tears burning my eyes. “But those who want to take a few of them with us when we go down, come with me.”

“My wish was to ride with steel in either hand to death and destruction”

“I saved this for you.” Oria’s pretty face was somber as she held out my short sword.

“we could hear the weird high singing of the Hill Folk’s harps, a different sound than any I’d heard yet. The sound seemed to thrum in my bones.”

“the sound of the rumbling, rushing water below, which drowned the high keening of the Hill Folk”

“My dream was always that, or partly that…”

Once again she stopped, and this time the gleam of the torches in her eyes was liquid.

“I returned to my vigil. The darkness seemed to endure forever.”

“a tall slim man with pale yellow hair”

“I was staking my life against everyone else’s. And of course there was no answer but one to be made to that.

With black murder in my heart, I flung my sword down.”

“two saddled, riderless horses, one a familiar gray”

“It was weird, dreamlike, the only reality the burning rage in my heart”

“I glared through the softly falling rain to the cold gray gaze”

the low brim of his hat now hiding his eyes.

“Ride,” he said.

“once a deer crashed through a shrub and bounded with breathtaking grace across the road”

The marquis dismounted and stretched out his hand to grip the bridle of my horse.

“Inside,” he said to me.

“I threw myself down on my knees next to the bed and hugged Branaric fiercely”

“After all, Shevraeth is merely a title, and he doesn’t go about calling either of us Tlanth.”

“Our friend the marquis wasn’t far behind—he’d just found out”

“He said you’d ride down the mountain breathing fire and hunting his blood. He was right.”

“Take a swig.” Shevraeth held out a flagon. “You’re going to need it, I’m afraid.”

“He sat back, his eyes expressive of amusement, just like his father”

“Not that the marquis had a red nose or a thick voice—he even looked aristocratic when sick, I thought with disgust.”

“That I resent,” Shevraeth said with his customary drawl. “Seeing as it is my wardrobe that is gracing your frame.”

“Bran’s husky, slow, with laughter in it, and Shevraeth’s soft, drawn out in a drawl”

“a hot tart made with apples and spices and wine”

“It was well before dawn. The marquis had woken us himself”

“He, too, stood there in only shirt and trousers, and I looked away quickly, embarrassed”

“Equal things out a little,” was the reply, still in the cool drawl. “Ready, Lady Meliara?”

“with tearing eyes returned it. The marquis tipped back his head, took a good slug”

“The marquis bowed low over his horse’s withers, every line of his body indicative of irony”

Shevraeth drawled, “we had a small wager on whether you would have the courage to face us.”

“Instinctively my free hand reached up and I caught the spear by the shaft”

“Keeping the banner whirling, I guided my horse with my knees, risked a glance over my shoulder”

“Where is Galdran?”

“Dead,” Bran said with a laugh.

“I was looking for my tunic. Or rather, the one I was wearing.”

“Mud,” he said succinctly.

“Vidanric. Sword,” Bran said, waving his index finger.

“Life! I don’t think he’s sat down since we returned.”

“Vidanric went after the king, quick and cool as ice”

“That hilltop will be all forest by winter, or I’m a lapdog.”

“besides how to lose a war, and I don’t think anyone is requiring that particular bit of knowledge.”

“Vidanric saved your life—”

“He saved it twice,” I corrected without thinking.”

“Well, you got in the way of an arrow before I got a chance.”

“searched not to kill me, but in order to save me from certain death”

“all the time planning to change things with the least amount of damage to innocent people”

“Well, it’s your name if it pleases me or not,”

“I think it’s time for you to make your peace with Vidanric.”

“not wanting to consider why I found that last suggestion even more frightening than the first”

“so—I vowed—I was done with royal affairs. No, I told myself, my work now was Tlanth.”

“Oria!” I yelled, running downstairs. “Oria! Julen! Calaub! We’re rich!”

_______

Oria crossed her arms. “Which brings us right back,” she said, “to that marquis.”

“You left your brother and the Marquis of Shevraeth without so much as a by-your-leave, and I think it’s gnawing.”

“Branaric needs three Fire Sticks?” Oria asked.

“Maybe he’s brought lots of servants?”

“If it really was Bran, I wanted to be in the courtyard to see his face when he discovered the improvements”

“with scrollwork and thin lines of gilding”

“new rugs from faraway Colend, where the weavers know how to fashion the shapes of birds”

“feeling a little guilty. I had stolen the idea of the potted trees from the Renselaeus palace.”

“Little Calaub was proud of his new-sewn stablehand livery”

“bounded up, grabbing me in a big hug and swinging me around. “Sister!” He gave me a resounding kiss.”

“Through the midst of them strolled a tall, elegant man in a heel-length black cloak—familiar gray eyes”

“and Danric there, whom you already know.”

“Do you have a welcome for me?” Shevraeth said with a faint smile.

“And the parlor! What was the cost of this mosaic ceiling? Not that it matters, but it’s as fine as anything in Athanarel.”

“I sneaked a look at Shevraeth, dreading an expression of amusement”

I sighed. “Then…I guess I’d better go back.”

“studiously ignored the other guest—as I watched her pick up two wineglasses”

Bran held up his glass and said, “To my sister! Everything you’ve done is better than I thought possible.”

“A letter that is still sitting on your desk?” Shevraeth murmured.

“That’s a drawback of a life at Court. One gets bound up in the endless social rounds and forgets other things.”

“you brought him. He’s yours to entertain.”

“random notes from the harp, a shivery pleasant sound that plucked at old and beloved memories, just as wearing the gown did”

“This is a lovely dress, and if it’s old, what’s the odds? A lady has the right to be comfortable.”

“If you will come to Athanarel and dance at my wedding, I will undertake to teach you everything.”

“What is it, do you mislike him?”

“Suffice it to say I feel better when we’re at opposite ends of the country.”

“do not want to rule. They’re merely there to oversee what their son has accomplished”

“Lord Vidanric has been working very hard ever since the end of the fighting. Too hard, some say. He came to Athanarel sick and has been ill off and on.”

“He and your brother have become fast friends”

“But then I’ve known him all my life.”

To her, it did. He was a good prospect for a king because he was her friend.

“On the evenings we were alone, Nee and I would curl up in her room or mine, eating from silver trays and talking”

“attended by someone tall, strong, naturally gifted with grace, and trained—such as the Marquis of Shevraeth”

“This left me with Shevraeth, tall and imposing in dark blue embroidered with pale gold, which—I realized as I glanced once at him—was the exact same shade as his hair”

“he held out his arm. I grimaced.”

“The Duke of Grumareth was always a fool and will always be a fool,” Shevraeth said, so lightly.

“Shevraeth addressed me in his usual drawl. Aghast, I choked. Then I saw the humor in his eyes.”

“It took everyone by surprise to find out that he was so different from the person we’d grown up with.”

Nee’s turn to shudder. “Life! I’d rather do almost anything than that—”

“silver-lit trails with the wind in my hair and the distant harps of the Hill Folk singing”

“blooming well after I was gone. “My last afternoon of peace,” I muttered.

He raised his hands and said, “I am unarmed.”

I realized I was glaring.

“No.” I couldn’t see his face. Only his back, and the long pale hair, and his lightly clasped hands were in view.

“an obvious constraint…every time we are in one another’s company will not go unnoticed.”

“Can you tell me,” he said slowly, “why you still harbor resentment against me?”

“He gave me a polite bow, a brief smile, and left”

“dark cloak belling and waving, and star-touched pale hair tangling in the wind. In silence I watched the still figure as music filled the valley between us and drifted into eternity.”

“you wouldn’t think them naked any more than a tree is naked”

“if I look one in the face, I always want to have a clean heart.”

“We had a splendid dinner in a private room overlooking the river. From below came the merry sounds of music.”

“Lord Vidanric? Will you come with us?”

“You can go in the coach in my place,” I said to Shevraeth, striving to sound polite.

“Never ride in coaches. If you want to know the truth, they make me sick.”

“He gave me a slow smile, bright with challenge”

He was still smiling, an odd sort of smile, hard to define. “A kiss.”

Shevraeth looked across at me. “Let’s go.”

And he was off, with me right on his heels.

“He glanced over, saw me laughing, and I shifted my gaze”

“At the same pace still, we reached the first staging point. Together we clattered into the innyard and swung down.”

“I waited until Shevraeth turned my way, stuck my tongue out at him, and rode out”

“Then I opened one, and there in the middle of a lovely parlor was Shevraeth. He knelt at a writing table with his back to a fire.”

“Light shafted down from stained-glass windows above, overlaying the mosaic with glowing golds”

Branaric was saying. “Well, Danric”

“After we were served, I stole a few glances at Shevraeth”

“Blue being the primary Renselaeus color, this might be misleading”

“I had to know what the Marquis of Shevraeth made of all this, and I darted a fast glance at him”

“the ones who liked dares and risks. He and Vidanric both. Only, Vidanric was so small and light-boned.”

“there we found Shevraeth waiting for us, looking formidable”

“but I now had Shevraeth standing right beside me, holding out his arm”

“Of course I know,” he returned, still in that soft voice.

“it was his choice for the first dance, and he held out his hand to me”

“I realized that he hadn’t been near me since the beginning of the evening”

“kneeling at the table, dressed in riding clothes, was the Marquis of Shevraeth”

“He did not expect to be defeated. Your brother and I rode back here in haste in order to prevent looting.”

“I apologize. I also realize trying to convince you of my good intentions is a fruitless effort.”

“I found a lovely sapphire ring sitting on a white silk nest”

“She had recently married and her husband was another horse-mad type”

“Shevraeth?” I repeated faintly.

“Sitting in the middle of the table was a fine little vase cut from luminous starstone”

“unlike Certain Others—easy to understand, and also easy to resist”

“very slender, he was dressed in deep blue, almost black, with a rare scattering of diamonds in his hair”

“Deric fell into conversation with Branaric, Shevraeth, and Renna Khialem, the subject (of course) horses”

“If a stake is won,” he said, “it is a race. If the point draws blood, it is a duel.”

“who had helped me that night. Now he was happily retired to his family village”

“lo, the Entire Court was out with us to see the Duel. Instead of Horses, I had brought big, shaggy Dogs”

“Savona swung down from his mount and took the reins in hand, falling in step on my left side. Shevraeth joined me on my right.”

“(I couldn’t bring myself to look at Shevraeth)”

“You looked right at me. Did you know that was me?”

“Will it make you very angry if I admit that I did?”

“the timing seemed inopportune for us to, ah, reacquaint ourselves.”

“second letter was sealed plainly, with no crest. I flung myself onto my pillows.”

“Dear Countess:

You say you would prefer discourse to gifts. I am yours to command”

“was glad to see the plain script of my Unknown”

“the rest would follow him to the next fad, just as if they had ribbons tied round their necks and somebody yanked.”

“I saw the common omission in all of this: my disastrous encounters with Shevraeth”

“Nothing. I don’t need anything! Or what I need no one can give me, which is wisdom.”

“I’d have to trust a man’s words before I could love him.”

“She curtsied. Again it was the deep one, petitioner to sovereign, but this time it was wordlessly sincere.”

“My heart gave a bound of anticipation when I saw a letter waiting”

“the plain paper I had grown used to seeing from my Unknown”

“I turned eagerly to the letter from the Unknown”

“Forgive my maladroitness—For an instant I was back in that corner room in the State Wing, with Shevraeth”

“So I lifted the tapestry—and looked across the room into a pair of familiar gray eyes.”

“Dressed splendidly in black and gold, as if for Court, Shevraeth knelt. For the third time that day, my face went hot.”

“to the lines of his profile. For the very first time I saw him simply as a person”

“The curl of danger, of being caught at my observations”

“Still polite, but very remote. I’d been staring for a protracted time.”

“not long after she became engaged to a Renselaeus prince”

“This time I planned my foray. When I saw Shevraeth dancing.”

“for a time we exchanged letters—sometimes thrice a day. It was such a relief to be able to express myself freely”

“well, I could sympathize. There was a person—soon to be king—whom I couldn’t bring myself to face.”

I grinned. “For someone special.”

“it sent out brilliant shards of color: gold, blue, crimson, emerald”

“I decided to simply send it in a tiny cedar box that my mother had apparently brought from Colend and that I’d had all my life.”

“Riding your gray?”

“Is that a challenge?” he replied with a hint of a smile.

“something about the tall figure made me stumble to a halt”

“the scent of chocolate threw me back to my first taste of it—at the Renselaeus palace”

“receiving his letters had come to be the most important part of my day”

“my descending on Shevraeth to inform him of whatever it”

“set aside for inside diversions: readings, music, dancing, parties, chocolate”

“Nee told me over chocolate one morning when Elenet was not there that Tamara never mentioned me but in praise”

“I hugged to myself the knowledge of my Unknown. It was comforting to realize that I would return to my room and find a letter.”

“the person whose opinions and thoughts I had come to value most”

“a practice blade thwacked my shoulder. I spun around—and gaped.

Shevraeth stood there smiling.”

“I turned away—and found Shevraeth beside me”

“He looks like a king, I thought”

“until the sculptors have finished refashioning a goldenwood throne for a queen”

“I accepted gratefully, knowing now that the food and drink would be the very best”

“that no one could reproduce the particular magic that so much skill had wrought”

found myself confronted by the Marquis of Shevraeth.

“My dear countess,” he said with a grand bow.

“He offered his arm. I took it and flushed.”

“Though we had spoken often, of late, this was the first time we had danced together”

“It was flattering to his tall, slender form. His hair was tied with a diamond-and-nightstar clasp, and a bluefire gem glittered in his ear.”

“We turned and touched hands. He had broken his reverie and looked at me quizzically: I had been caught staring.”

“so the evening went. There was an atmosphere of expectation, of pleasure, of relaxed rules”

“Shevraeth did not dance again with Elenet. I know, because I watched.”

“gasp from the watchers greeted the sudden change, as the gossamer fabric rippled and arched and curled”

“crush her in both arms, just for a heartbeat, as around them the others swirled and dipped”

“The bells of first-gold began ringing as my horse dashed past the last houses”

“for a long, amazing moment, there we were, Meliara and Shevraeth, mud-spattered and wet, just like last year, looking at one another”

“With a faint metallic ching of chain mail he appeared, and took hold of my arm. He drew me inside.”

“The marquis gazed back at me, his face tense and tired, the pupils of his eyes wide and dark”

With his old sardonic tone he added, “Because if you were, your retreat just now is somewhat puzzling.”

“He smiled slightly, but the intensity had not left his gaze”

“and too many lives were at stake for him to risk being wrong.”

“And no one else knows of this?” he asked gently.

he smiled a little. “Brace up. We’re not about to embark on a duel to the death over the dishes.”

“you have never lied to me. Eat. We’ll leave.”

“to thank him for believing me would embarrass us both. So I said nothing, but my eyes prickled.”

“I found myself alone. My cloak was gone, and in its place a long, black, waterproof one that I recognized at once.”

“in which case I was about to become a prisoner—or a ghost—or…

Blue and black and white.”

“he saw us, and his face relaxed slightly. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized he was tense.”

“Twenty wagons, Lady Meliara?” he said, one brow lifting.

“or I suspect I soon would have been part of the road.”

I unclasped his cloak and handed it over. “I’m sorry about the hem,” I said, feeling shy. “Got a bit muddy.”

“until at last Shevraeth and I were alone”

“approximately the same time you were conversing with your forty wagoneers.” He smiled.

“the glint resolved into a ring on his littlest finger, a gold ring carved round with laurel”

“You had it made,” he replied. “But now it’s mine.”

“I didn’t have to try. I raised my gaze from the ring to his face. He was smiling.”

“It is time,” he said, “to collect on my wager.”

He moved slowly. First, his hands sliding round me.

“softly, so softly, the brush of lips against my brow, my eyes, and then my lips”

“The sensations—like starfire—that glowed through me chased away all thoughts save one, to close that last distance”

“I locked my fingers round his neck and pulled his face down to mine”

“I didn’t want that kiss to ever stop. He didn’t seem to, either.”

“his breathing was as ragged as mine”

“I was going to have to learn to perform my cerebrations while dashing back and forth cross-country”

“Of course my mind snapped straight to that kiss, and for a short time I thought wistfully about how much I’d been missing”

“Shevraeth flicked me one of those assessing glances. Then he smiled, a real smile of humor and tenderness.”

“clear to me on that visit that you showed one face to all the rest of the world, and another to me”

“He lifted his cup, and there was my ring gleaming on his finger”

“He’d been wearing it, I thought, when we sat in this very inn and he went through that terrible inner debate”

“for the first time comprehended what a relationship with him really meant for the rest of my life”

“with almost disastrous results. It was only his own faith that saved.”

“leave you with the burden? Tell me, if the telling eases it.”

“He kissed my hands, first one, then the other. I felt that thrill run through me.”

“let’s address the business before us. I hope and trust we’ll have the remainder of our lives.”

“Shall we agree to a fresh beginning?”

I squeezed his hands back. “Agreed.”

“let me hear my name from you, just once, before we proceed further.”

“Vidanric,” I said, and he kissed me again.

“Who can ever know what turns the spark into flame? Vidanric’s initial interest in me might well have been kindled”

“for me, I really believe the spark had been there all along”

“The prince and princess. Savona. Tamara. Bran and Nee. Elenet. Good people.”

“Unfortunately,” I said, striving to mimic Vidanric’s most annoying Court drawl, “I find you boring.”

“Vidanric stood silently next to me, his head bowed”

“For time,” I said. “Look outside.”

Flauvic shoved past us and ran.

“By the hundreds, from all directions, the Hill Folk had come”

“his hand moved swiftly, grasping my wrist. I tried to pull free—I heard Vidanric rip his blade out of its sheath”

“arms scooped me up as the ground trembled. I flung my head back against Vidanric’s chest.”

“brought my attention home and heartward. I shut my eyes, smiling, and clung with all my strength to Vidanric as kisses rained.”

“finally—lingeringly—on my lips.

The duel was over, and we had won.”

“Vidanric thinks I am the kind of person who is destined to be in the midst of great events”

“a bright link in the living chain with which Vidanric and I bound ourselves”

“left to tell only that on New Year’s Day was Vidanric’s and my wedding”

“for possible inkstains on the fingers of the fellow you quarrel with the most”

“let me end with the wish that you find the same kind of happiness, and laughter, and love”

“hold me close. His touch still gave me that fizzing shiver inside, as strong as our very first kiss.”

“I’d gotten accustomed to Vidanric and Savona’s particular style of humor”

“But there was no time to catch up, for he kissed me, picked up his riding cloak, and then was gone”

“Nee came in, carrying my new niece. I gave a foolish grin when I glimpsed that tiny head.”

“He will be delighted,” Savona said that night. We were alone in the royal suite’s”

“Savona had become like a brother, but a sort of oblique, hard-to-comprehend”

“As it was, he nearly was late. Savona brought him in, thrusting him down by the shoulder”

“my heart, my whole attention, was reserved for Vidanric”

“Vidanric took my shoulders in both hands and gently turned me”

“glass sparkling as brightly as the diamond in his ear”

“thought your surprise would be of an entirely different nature,” he said tentatively

“He let out an exclamation of joy and grabbed me up”

“He grinned, a boyish grin”

“He carried me into our room and kicked the door shut behind us”

[mysticalibra1994]

Sonic Prime: A Tumble and a Close Call in No Place

Okay, so we all know that Sonic can't swim (how long has it been?) and Nine's tech saved him from going under in No Place.

Well, this is a "two what-if scenarios in one"...

1.) What if Nine's tech malfunctioned underwater?

2.) What if Shadoww found a way to visit the Shatterspace as easily as Sonic?

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

[Setting: No Place. Dread, his crew, and Sonic are having the time of their lives having a pirate's life adventure. Their arch-rival, The Scurvy Dogs, have docked their ship. They're all fighting with swords. All except...]

Sonic: Yo, Shads! Why aren't you joining in on the fun? Shadow: *arms crossed, leaning on the post* I don't do swords, I do guns. Sails: We be harboring weapons that ye fancy! Shadow: Did the research, they all take too long to get ready. Sonic: *chuckling a bit* Sounds like Amy...

[Sonic gets serious the moment he notices that one of the Scurvy Dogs is swinging on the rope of the mast and aiming directly at Dread. Due to his speed, he manages to push him out of the way, only to get kicked off the ship and go overboard. Shadow witnessed the whole thing as he knocked that Scurvy Dog out until he was incapacitated. As he glances over the railing, the rest of the Scurvy Dogs retreat back to their ship. By the time Dread's crew made their way to the duo, Dread had decided... to be him.]

Dread: Did ye be seein' that?! That thar blue devil shoved me fer no reasoning! Shadow: He shoved you out of the way from being attacked and falling overboard. *scans the water for anything...* Black Rose: Why he be doin' that fer? We can all swim. Shadow: *tries to hide his concern* He can't.

[Before the rest can even react, Shadow dives into the water; due to him being made from Black Doom's DNA, he can hold his breath a lot longer than any regular Mobian.

Meanwhile, Sonic is in sheer panic as he struggles to jumpstart Nine's tech on his kicks. The more he struggles, the more he struggles to continue holding his breath. His last thoughts were of his friends back home as he closed his emerald green eyes while sinking lower and lower...

Suddenly, a black sea creature with glowing red streaks appears from the coral reef. This creature was none other than Guardian; a No Place version of Shadow. He swims up to Sonic as if he remembers his appearance. But, as he got closer, he noticed a few things that were off; both eyelids didn't seem damaged, no hints of a small goatee, and no gold tooth.]

Guardian: Even though you're not him, you don't deserve to live in Davey Jones' locker for eternity.

[Guardian carefully wraps his arms around Sonic's torso and swims him close enough to be close to the shore without breaking it. Eventually, Shadow and Guardian were close enough to see each other underwater. Luckily for both of them, they were able to speak telepathically.]

Shadow: (So, you're...?) Guardian: (It appears so...) *hands Sonic over* (Here, take him before you lose him.) Shadow: *realizes what he meant* (I will, thanks.)

[Shadow holds Sonic close as he breaks the surface. All of Dread's crew (except for Dread) cheers happily for their return! Only to grow silent as only Shadow was the only conscious one. Batten Rouge grabs the rope for Shadow to grab hold of as she pulls them both up onto the main deck. The rest look on with a worried and concerned look on their faces while Shadow checks on Sonic's vitals.]

Shadow: Sonic. *nudges him a bit* Sonic? *shakes his shoulders* Hey!

[Shadow places his ear on Sonic's chest to check for any signs of breathing... He could only hear his shallow heart. The rest of the crew could only watch as Shadow tilts Sonic's head back and puts his mouth on his while blowing air into his lungs. After a few times of this, Shadow quickly uses his two fingers to trace and find the center of his peachy-colored chest, puts one hand on top of the other, and rhythmically compresses his chest. Dread was too stunned to speak as some water started to flow out from Sonic's mouth with each pump.]

Black Rose: *covers her mouth* By the gods... Shadow: *repeats the steps* Don't you dare do this! You're not going out like this! *repeats the steps* Not like this...

[By the time Shadow was about halfway done with the 5th step, Sonic's chest heaved up as he coughed up the rest of the seawater. Shadow quickly turns him over on his side as Sonic continues coughing. A collective sigh fills the ship.]

Sails: Where'd ye learned such technique? Shadow: *caught his own breath* In Sonic's original dimension, but from a space colony. It's a long story and my memory's not that great.

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

I actually came up with this last night; due to Sonic's panic of falling into large bodies of water, it kind of makes one wonder...

Plus, I could imagine Shadow meeting Guardian for the first time; automatically knowing that he lost someone close to him, too.

[fruitcoops]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could do another fic involving jules and coops together? Just like sweet moments between the three? I loved the baby sitting series you did and could not stop thinking about it❤️❤️ Thank you!!

Yeah, of course! I love writing my boy at any opportunity. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but the relatives are my ocs!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sirius asked under his breath as Remus finally—finally—appeared from the mass of people.

“It’s fine,” Remus said around a forced smile to a middle-aged man across the yard.

Sirius hid his mouth by pretending to look down at the nearest casserole dish. He didn’t even know what was in it; nobody had bothered with labels, and everyone’s dishes were the same basic florals in different colors. “I love you, Re, and I totally get the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing, but this is a bit much if I’m being honest.”

“Honey.” Remus’ shoulder pressed against his own. “I’m sorry you’re not having a good time, but my Aunt Jen would skin me alive if I didn’t bring the man I’m marrying to the family reunion. We can leave tomorrow if you really hate—oh, no.”

“Remus!” a shrill, excited voice called. Sirius felt his fiancé straighten up as a tall, redheaded woman in star-painted jeans hurried across the grass with three other women in tow. She reached up and gave Remus’ cheeks a squish, then leaned in a planted a lipstick-stamped kiss to his forehead. “How are you, my duckling? Was your flight alright? Make sure you stay away from the salt or else your feet will swell.”

“Hi, Aunt Jen,” Remus said, grimacing a little at her rib-crushing hug. “I’m doing well, and our flight was fine. How are you?”

“Peachy keen,” she assured him. Dark brown eyes lasered in on Sirius half a second later and he felt his fight or flight kick in. “And who are you?”

“Aunt Jen, this is—”

“It was rhetorical, honey,” Jen interrupted with a pat to Remus’ arm as she stepped closer to Sirius and immediately hauled him in for a hug. She was as tall as Remus, but broader in the shoulders and hips; he had never felt so engulfed by someone. It was a strangely enjoyable feeling.

“Aren’t you a handsome one?” the shortest of the group cooed, as if she was talking to a particularly small dog in a purse. “Our Remus always knew how to pick them.”

Remus furrowed his brows. “Aunt Lisa, this is the first boyfriend I’ve—”

“But he’s not just a boyfriend!” Jen trilled, giving Sirius’ cheek a pat. “He’s a fiancé, something I learned from your mother. Not from your father—oh, I gave him a talking-to about that—and not from you, duck.”

Sirius bit back a laugh at the nickname and spared a glance to his left, where Remus had gone pink all the way to his ears. “Sorry.”

“Introduce us!” the shortest insisted, taking the other two by the hands as pulling them forward with an eager smile.

“Everyone, this is Sirius Black, my fiancé.” Remus gestured between them, and the four women beamed at him. “Sirius, this is Aunt Jen, Aunt Lisa, Aunt Allison, and Aunt Mary, my dad’s sisters.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Sirius said, holding a hand out.

“No need to be so formal,” the brunette grumbled with a teasing grin. “We have heard so much about you from Lyall. After those damned pictures—”

“Allison,” Jen hissed.

“—after the damned pictures,” Allison repeated with a pointed look. “I was about ready to drive up to Gryffindor myself and give that lousy son of a bitch a piece of my mind—”

“Allison!”

“—but Lyall talked me down and I have been waiting to meet you ever since.” She finished with a soft huff and gave his arm a quick squeeze. “Remus is a lucky boy to have you. It’s very exciting to see you in person at last.”

Sirius’ heart gave a happy little ka-thump and he smiled. “I’m glad to be here. Thank you for having me.”

“He is so polite,” Lisa said to Remus out of the corner of her mouth with a wink and a thumbs-up. “Good choice.”

“You know what I just realized? We haven’t said hello to Jules yet. We’ll see you in a few, yeah?” Without waiting for an official answer, Remus wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist and practically carried him away from the table. Once they were out of earshot—and the aunts had busied themselves with one of the younger Lupins—Remus relaxed with a slow exhale. “I am…so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I had no idea they were going to corner you like that. I mean, I did, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be for another few hours. They tend to move in a pack at reunions, like sharks. Or wolves.”

“They’re really sweet.”

“They are,” Remus said grudgingly, though Sirius could read the affection dripping off him like his favorite book. “My dad’s the youngest of five, and I was the first nephew. You can imagine how that went.”

“Baby of the baby?”

“Exactly.”

“Can I ask one thing?” Remus nodded, visibly confused, and Sirius found he couldn’t keep his grin down any longer. “Duckling?”

“I hoped you didn’t hear that,” he groaned as they headed toward the kids’ play area beneath a large oak. “Long story short, it involved five-year-old me, a pond, and a sinus infection that made me sound like a duck when I sneezed.”

“Oh my god,” Sirius laughed, earning himself a light elbow to the ribs. “And the name stuck?”

“Considering she was the one that had to stay with me while my folks were working, she could call me whatever the hell she wanted. Please don’t ask her about it unless you want a thirty-minute TED talk about the ins and outs of my sinuses.”

“She’s a doctor?”

“No, she just overshares.”

“Sirius!”

Sirius looked up and saw a herd of small children racing toward them, led by his favorite person under the age of eighteen; Jules crashed into his legs and squeezed him tight around the waist. “Hey, I missed you!”

Jules propped his chin below Sirius’ sternum and stared up at him with the classic hazel-gold eyes that were far more common than Sirius believed before they arrived in the Lupins’ backyard. “I missed you, too! How’s the team? How’s Harry? Is he still super small or did he do that weird thing that babies do where their legs grow and the rest of them still looks normal? How was your flight? Did you have turbulence?”

Sirius thought for a moment. “Good, also good, growing normally, and yes.”

“Sweet! Come play cornhole with us!” Jules grabbed his hand and dragged him along the grass at the closest thing he could manage to a sprint with Sirius’ added weight—the pre-teen years had lent him gangly legs, though he didn’t seem quite sure how to use them yet. He looked more like a foal than a sixth-grader.

“What the hell is cornhole?” Sirius muttered as the flock of kids ran ahead to grab armfuls of beanbags.

Remus grinned. “Something I’m about to kick your ass at.”

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

By the time the sun set, Sirius was exhausted. He had been introduced to dozens of people who looked just enough like Remus to be eerie, as well as plenty who seemed to have been acquired by one Lupin or another over the course of their life. Jules fluctuated between laminating himself to Sirius’ side and disappearing for an hour at a time, only to return more grass-stained and rumpled than ever as he begged Remus to swing him around by the ankles again. His ass had been thoroughly kicked at cornhole and freeze tag; it was a true miracle he hadn’t already passed out into a food coma. For all of his earlier griping, Sirius couldn’t think of a time in recent months when he had been more content.

“You’re a brave soul,” Remus remarked as they sat in the grass together and watched the fireflies wake. Though it was a warm night, it seemed the citronella candles littering the tables were doing their job of chasing off mosquitoes.

Sirius leaned his head on Remus’ shoulder. He smelled like grass and summertime and sunbaked warmth. “Am I?”

“Mhmm. I’m sure most people would have run screaming by now.”

“I like your family.”

A beat of silence passed; Remus rested his temple against the top of Sirius’ head. “I’m really glad to hear that. They’re weird and loud, but I love them.”

“And I love you.”

“Are you saying I’m weird and loud?”

“On occasion.”

“Asshole,” Remus laughed, giving him a nudge that hardly qualified as more than a gentle sway.

“Language, there are eight million kids around.”

“They’re busy.”

Sirius watched as small group run by in a wave of giggles, all clutching mason jars of fireflies with their names written on masking tape. “Thank you again for asking me to come with you.”

“Like I said, Aunt Jen would—”

“Remus.” He fell quiet. Sirius didn’t remember the last time he said Remus’ full name aloud. “Your family loves you so much. They’re everything I ever wanted growing up, and it means the world that you wanted to share them with me. All they want is to see you happy. It was amazing to finally meet them.”

“They really, really love you,” Remus said softly, his voice a little thick. “I had about twenty people tell me how wonderful you are. They all thanked me for bringing you, and not a single one mentioned the celebrity thing. Even my Uncle Jay didn’t say a word about hockey.”

“He was the one in the jersey?”

“I’ve known him for my entire life and I’ve never seen him without one.”

“Huh.” Sirius tucked his face closer to Remus’ neck and let the sound of the bullfrogs in a distant marsh lull him. “What time is it?”

“Almost eleven. The adults will be up for a while, but the kids will start crashing soon.”

Footsteps on the cool grass rustled to their right and Sirius looked up. “Who wants pie?” Aunt Allison singsonged, breaking their quiet bubble with paper plates and utensils. “This one is blackberry, but we have peach, pumpkin, and a few others on the table if you’re still hungry.”

“Just a small piece, please,” Sirius said.

Allison paused and cocked her head, then burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re funny!”

“I am?”

“Don’t fight it,” Remus whispered.

“You are a growing boy,” Allison said as she cut a thick slice and plonked it onto his plate. “And there’s no such thing as too much pie.”

I’m 26, Sirius wanted to say, though he held it in. “Just a small one for me, as well,” Remus said.

“Ha!” Allison snorted. “You’re already too skinny. Eat your pie or you’ll end up a string bean like your father. The NHL might have given you muscle, but it’s useless if you don’t enjoy some of your favorite aunt’s—”

“—woah, hey now—”

“—pie once in a while.” Allison kissed the tops of their heads once both plates were secure and bowing in the middle. “I’m going to make sure the kids aren’t poking around in the river again. Sleep well, you two.”

Sirius stared down at his plate as she wandered away. “I’m honestly going to die if I eat this.”

“Yeah, please don’t make yourself sick on pie. You really don’t have to eat all of that. The aunts and uncles are convinced that none of us are eating properly once we turn eighteen.”

“Really?”

“I wish I was kidding. You’re going to sleep so well tonight, though.”

As if on cue, Sirius stifled a yawn with the back of his hand and cuddled under Remus’ arm again. A familiar shadow bounded over not two seconds later and he barely held down a groan. “Hey, can I join you?”

Remus shrugged. “ ‘course.”

“Sweet.” Jules settled himself across their laps, staring at the sky with his head pillowed on Sirius’ thigh. “Did you have fun? I’m really glad you could come.”

“I had a great time,” Sirius answered honestly. Now please move on so I can take a nap.

“Mom and dad and me got here yesterday, and Aunt Jen kept checking the door for you guys even though she knew you weren’t coming until today. She was worried you wouldn’t like us, I think.”

“That was never an option, Jules.”

“Yeah, I know.” A devilish grin flickered over his face. “Remus is the weirdest of all of us, and if you want to marry him—”

“Get off,” Remus grumbled, shoving Jules’ legs onto the picnic blanket. “You know, you were a lot nicer before you turned eleven. Can I return you and get a new one? I have the receipt somewhere.”

“Nope.”

“That’s all a birth certificate is, right?” Sirius raised his eyebrows. “If you bring it back in good condition, I hear they give you a ten percent discount.”

Jules scowled. “That’s so not true.”

“How do you think I got Regulus?”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Remus asked with a pointed look. “Run along, problem child.”

“Of the two of us, I’m the least problematic.” Despite his words, Jules clambered to his feet and dusted his hands off over Remus’ head. “I’m not the one that got a secret boyfriend and got engaged in a year. I’m so easy. Mom and dad want two of me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Remus sighed as he stretched out on the blanket. “They had a second kid because they wanted two of me.”

“You’re adopted.”

Remus cracked one eye open in disbelief. “No, I’m not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because—y’know what, go to bed. Or go find the stampede, I think they’re by the river.”

Sirius whistled lowly as Jules scampered off again. “That was impressive. Isn’t your aunt over there?”

“Yep.”

Realization clicked into place. “She’s going to make him go to bed.”

“Yep.”

“You’re brilliant.”

Remus smiled without opening his eyes, and tugged Sirius down by the sleeve to lay next to him. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

The stars were brighter than anywhere Sirius had ever seen; for a moment, he was struck speechless by the endless rivers of sparkling white overhead. He stared until his eyes burned from dryness, then put his head on Remus’ chest and kept on looking. There was no way he could tear his gaze from it. A few shooting stars streaked across the clear sky and he felt his heart skip a beat in pure amazement when he realized there was nothing else he would wish for in that moment. He could listen to Remus’ heartbeat and the sound of his new family talking against a backdrop of the night, relishing in a full belly and cool wind, and simply stay there for as long as he liked.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

"Vi-kun!!!!!" An all too familiar, cheerful voice sang from the entrance of the room. Quickly, a boy wearing a black sailor hat that integrated with his hair dashed towards his fellow actor. He carried a gigantic basket by its base around the arms, making it difficult to tell what exactly it carried. His pace gradually slowed as he arrived in front of Vil, his ruby red lips painting an eager smile on his peachy ivory face. Honestly, between his doe eyes, rosy cheeks, and bundle of energy, it could be difficult to believe Neige LeBlanche was 17 years old.

Nonetheless, the boy young man beamed as he presented the gift basket. "I wish you a most wonderful birthday! Sorry if I came in at a bad time. I wanted to run by Pomefiore's dorm before a rehearsal but I couldn't find you, then Rook mentioned you were up here planning another venue, I'm assuming with this lovely lady." Neige briefly waved to Raven as he let Vil look at the basket's contents.

Inside was a set of tumbler cups with varying patterns of purple, a case of eraseable pens and highlighters in all sorts of colors, and a crown crafted with a thin, gold colored metal and decorated in deep red and violet gemstones. Neige blinked. "Oh! I should probably explain what all is in here, shouldn't I? Well, the tumbler cups are for taking water or smoothies or whatever around with you, and the pens and highlighters are for annotating scripts or notes or other stuff you write down!" His eyes drifted towards the crown, and his voice became a little softer. "I know you were frustrated about VDC, so... the dwarves and I got together to make something for you! Think of it as a way of saying we really loved your performance, and you're the real winners in our hearts."

***Chapter 5 spoilers!***

“Neige...”

It took every ounce of willpower, and every fiber of his being, for Vil to hold himself back from shouting in frustration. Just seeing the RSA student’s cheery face made him seethe. While most would swoon and coo over Neige’s child-like innocence, it only made Vil want to curb stomp his rival into the next world.

And yet he somehow mustered a natural-looking smile.

“What brings you to Night Raven College?” Vil asked nonchalantly.

“Hehe, surprised? I wanted to deliver your birthday gift myself!” Neige chirped, thrusting the large basket in his arms into Vil’s. “Your campus looks a lot different without the cultural festival set up, but luckily for me, I had some help finding you.”

“Is that so? I am glad you did not get lost.” He lied right through his teeth--convincingly so--and made a mental note to reprimand Rook at a later date. “Now then... I think it’s about time I unwrapped your gift.”

Vil peeled back the cellophane holding various items inside the basket. Tumbler cups, writing utensils in all colors of the rainbow... and a crown. Judging from the slight imperfections set into the metal and gems, it was homemade.

Neige happily explained why he had chosen each item in turn, the most gentle of smiles on his face.

“These are...” Vil bit his lip. He felt venomous words surging forth from deep within himself. Bitter, ugly words.

Are you pitying me? That is the last thing I want, or need.

Spare me your sympathy, your ‘power of love’ speech. I don’t want to hear ‘the real prize was the friends we made along the way’, or ‘you’re the winner in our hearts’.

I swear I will beat you into the dirt one day, Neige Leblanche--fair and square.

“These are very thoughtful,” Vil concluded with a painful smile. “Yes, these are very thoughtful gifts indeed. I’ll be certain to get a lot of use out of them during my work outs and study sessions, both for work and for school.”

“Really? Yay, I’m so happy you like them, Vi-kun!” Neige’s eyes sparkled like thw dawn. “I actually have some tumblers like the ones I gave you today... so we can twin!”

“Ah. Of course.”

(Vil internally gagged.)

“It’s a promise, then!” Neige giggled, clapping his hands excitedly. “I wish I could stick around to celebrate the rest of your birthday with you, but I need to get going to my rehearsal now. Please have fun for me, okay?”

“I will--and best of luck at your rehearsal, Neige. Until we meet again.”

“Yup! Until then!”

Vil saw him off at the doorway, waving and waving until Neige was no more than a dot in the distance. The size an an ant to be stomped on. Then, and only then, did Vil let his smile drop.

“... I’m going to kill Rook.”

[ericsonclan]

The Effortless Joy of Being with You

Summary: Doug and Sisi enjoy a simple afternoon of gaming and pie.

Word Count: 1789

Read on AO3:

Doug squatted in front of the oven, his eyes focused on the pie made visible thanks to the oven light. The juices from the boysenberries spilled out of the top of the crust and began to coat little sections of it. Any second now and the pie would be done. Doug’s eyes stayed glued to the oven while the faint tapping of the Switch could be heard in the other room along with the music of the video game. After a few seconds Sisi’s voice appeared as well.

“Come on, Zag, just you and me and all these underworld baddies. We got this! We can win!” Sisi cheered on the protagonist of the game as their fingers whacked against the buttons on the joycons.

Doug smiled; he was happy to hear that Sisi was having fun. His eyes wandered over and he debated on peeking his head in to watch Sisi play Hades. But he knew he would see Sisi soon enough, just as soon as this pie was done. That thought made Doug glance over and notice that the juices of the pie were about to slip off the crust and onto the oven.

“Shoot, shoot, shoot!” Doug jogged over and snatched up his bear oven mitts. He turned off the oven and gingerly took out the pie. After examining it for a moment then peeking in the oven Doug let out a small sigh of relief. It wouldn’t have been the end of the world if some of the pie ended up on the bottom of the oven but still it would’ve created smoke and been a pain to clean.

“Everything okay in there?” Sisi called out, sounding somewhat concerned.

“Yep! Everything is peachy, I was just worried about the pie.” Doug replied as he looked down at it. Small drizzles of the purple sauces slipped down the side of the pie, painting the golden brown crust. It was a bit messy looking but still Doug felt proud for making another successful pie.

“It smells delicious,” Sisi walked forward and wrapped their arms around Doug before surprising him with a kiss on the cheek. Doug felt his heart do a little flip at the sudden romantic gesture.

“Thanks, I think it’ll taste great!” Doug moved to hold onto Sisi’s arms but quickly saw that he still had the oven mitts on. “Oops, let me get these off and then we can head back to the living room.” He quickly worked to get off the oven mitts and make sure the oven was turned off while Sisi watched in silence. Doug was wearing one of his favorite shirts: a green t-shirt with a white polar bear with antlers in the center. It was one of many in Doug’s collection of unique shirts. That shirt along with his socks and the bear oven mitts made a warm smile appear on Sisi’s lips. He was such a dork, their dork, and they loved him for it.

“Okay, all set,” Doug moved forward, intertwining his fingers with Sisi’s. “The pie will need to cool for a little bit,”

“Sounds good to me. Now you can see my skills in action,” Sisi smiled as she led the way back into the living room. Her eyes glanced around, noticing the wall of masks that Doug had helped put up. Sisi’s eyes focused on two of her favorites in her collection.

The first was a black fox mask with red detailing around the eyes and within the ears as well as some extra marks of gold that added to the mask’s beauty. The other mask was also a fox except its primary color was white with red detailing that brought attention to the mask’s simple yet expertly done craftsmanship.

As Sisi’s eyes scanned the room looking at the setup with two TVs in the room and different cookbooks and mechanical books that filled the shelves, Doug’s focus was elsewhere. His eyes seemed glued to Sisi’s outfit, a simple waist level leather jacket that covered a plain black tee  which led down to a green plaid skirt accented by a black belt. Sisi had always been so fashionable and every outfit that she wore always made Doug’s heartbeat quicken.

“Okay, Dougie, wanna sit beside me or on my lap?” Sisi smiled brightly as she sat wrapped in a blanket that covered her black tights.

Doug felt like words were escaping him as he struggled to speak for a moment. “I’ll take your lap,” He felt his face heat up at his own words as he walked over.

“Okay!” Sisi smiled and immediately wrapped her arms around Doug’s waist while her head rested on his shoulder. With a quick tap of a button she started up the game again.

She was currently in Asphodel battling her way against the Learnean Bone Hydra. Sisi expertly navigated through the attacks that the boss was trying to hit her with using the dash button. Wielding Aegis, Sisi made quick work of the different bone hydras that appeared while the boss was protected by a shield. She used the mighty shield to do strong attacks before running away and tossing it to get some last minute damage.

“Whoa! You’re doing great, Sisi!” Doug praised as his fingers brushed against Sisi’s arms. The praise made Sisi’s heart grow warm and she continued on.

“Thanks, I’ve dealt with this little shit enough times to know what to expect,” Sisi smirked, her eyes shining with determination to defeat this boss. Her fingers tapped against the buttons making Zagreus dash around, dealing a good amount of damage. The perks from Hermes were ones that Sisi always went for whenever they were available and she was glad she had them this time. A few times she had nearly gotten hit but luckily dodged it.

Finally she reached the last bit of the boss’ health bar and pressed down on the ZR button, making Zeus’ lighting rain down from the heavens and crush the bone hydra. Sisi let out a small victory sound as she shot her hands up in the air. “Take that! No one fucks with the son of Hades!” Sisi crowed and pushed the analog stick forward to get Zagreus to move to the next section of the underworld.

“You did amazing!” Doug moved his head back and stole a kiss from Sisi. Sisi paused for a second, clearly surprised by the kiss before a huge proud smile took over her lips. She immediately returned the kiss then brushed her nose against Doug’s. With newfound determination and her heart beating wildly, Sisi progressed forward into Elysium. Once there she immediately jumped into battle, using Aegis to mow down enemies. “Ha ha ha! No one can escape my wrath!” Sisi laughed as she hunted down the wandering souls of warriors that moments ago had turned their spears against her.

Doug stole a glance back at Sisi, his own smile growing. He always enjoyed how passionate Sisi got whenever she played a video game, especially with how calm and laidback Sisi was outside of the world of videogames. Doug snuggled up closer to his girlfriend and watched happily as Sisi continued to climb up through the underworld.

Soon, however, Sisi got distracted by the beauty of Elysium, the lush green plants that grew around and on top of the tiles and the beautiful white clouds surrounding the area.

“So pretty,” Sisi whispered and continued to get lost in the simple striking landscape of Elysium when suddenly an enemy attacked him. “Shit,” Sisi mumbled and tried to turn the tide of battle in his favor but it was too late. Quickly he became overwhelmed by the enemies and the final drops of his life bar slipped away, sending Zagreus all the way back down to the beginning. “Damn it,” Sisi groaned and let his head fall against the soft couch cushion.

“I think you did great,” Doug kissed one of Sisi’s palms which made Sisi’s heart flutter.

“Thanks. Guess I got distracted by Elysium… again,” Sisi took a deep breath then handed over the joycons. “Your turn,”

“Okay,” Doug took the controls and began to navigate Zagreus through the House of Hades, talking to the different residents there. After a few minutes of getting some upgrades he switched to Varatha, the eternal spear. Doug had always preferred this weapon with its long reach and the fact that you could throw it, piercing through enemies before calling it back. Doug made quick work of the first few levels of Tartarus. Sisi continued to give praise whenever he could along with small neck kisses that seemed more distracting than helpful. Doug’s laughter always made Sisi smile though so it was a win win for him and based on the quick hand squeezes or small romantic gestures Doug gave he was clearly happy too.

Soon Tartarus was complete and Doug moved onto Asphodel. As soon as he stepped foot inside Doug began to gush about the design and work that went into this game. Sisi listened happily as his boyfriend took the topic and ran with it, talking about which engine the company had used and how smoothly the game ran. Sisi always enjoyed Doug gushing about anything mechanical, finding the sparkle in his eyes and his smile beautiful.

Doug continued to share as Sisi cuddled up closer into the couch when suddenly an enemy got the upper hand on him. Soon Doug’s panic took over and all his plans seemed to disappear into the back of his mind until the enemy got the final fatal strike. “Argh, you...you... You dick!” Doug huffed as Zagreus emerged from the pool of blood and back into the House of Hades. “Pardon my French,” Doug quickly added, which made Sisi laugh.

“It's fine. If you wanna use stronger words to swear, you can,”

Doug shook his head. “No, I think I’ll stick with my words,” He placed the joycons down and got up. Immediately turning around, he held out his hand. “Pie time,”

“Pie time!” Sisi accepted Doug’s hand and got up, leading the way towards the kitchen. Once they had reached the kitchen Doug slipped his hand out of Sisi’s and began to prepare to serve the pie.

Sisi watched Doug for a moment and felt his heart settle into a calm happiness. Being with Doug always felt so effortless. It was nice, feeling this happy. With that thought bouncing around in his mind, Sisi walked forward. “Let me help,” He opened the cupboard and grabbed the small plates. Doug smiled appreciatively and began to place down the slices of pie. After a moment his eyes met Sisi’s and they shared the same thought. Being with each other felt right.

[shnuggletea]

A belated birthday surprise for @eringobroke!

Better late than never?? So, she’s actually read this already lol. I commissioned art from her for it! But the surprise is the posting as I hadn’t told her when I would post this lol. I took a short break from working on kisses to get this ready for the public. I know everyone is hurting for some fluff (and this is not fluffy) but I promise you’ll get a ton of fluff on Sunday! It has a lot of smut in it. If you want the full version, you’ll have to subscribe. It all still works without the smut (I think). So you don’t have to subscribe (but I’d love you a little more if you did!). You can read chapter one below or head over to Patreon for the free version. 

Happy Birthday @eringobroke!!! And thank you so much for the brilliant art! Working with her was a dream guys something to consider when thinking of your next project to commission! Idk if this is a gift, commission, or both but I hope it’s a good surprise. Either way, I’m so glad to have you and your work in my life!

Check out the art eringobroke made titled Hunting a Dryad!

For AO3 (since this is a gift) click here. For Patreon click here. Or keep reading below.

TAGS!!

@underwater0phelia @lavendertwilight89 @mamabearcat @nartista @nopenname22 @echobows @superpixie42 @smmahamazing @redflamesofpassion @jme-chan @cstorm86 @cicleydark-light @ruddcatha @lavaffair @kirrtash @sistasecbhere @obsessandfangirl @britonell @lordofthechips @mcornilliac @faolenwolf @keichanz @phoenix-before-the-flame @artisticloveexpressitsall @lamuertadehambre @noyourenotreal @mitty-san @thenoammonster @little-deeluna @royaltrashpanda @sailorbabydoll92 @storyweaver2017 @malditamigs @adorabubblesblog @lilms-obsessed @petri808 @anniehcresta @fan-dumpp @itzatakahashi @utakuprincess @theschultinator @all-too-ale @little-inukag-obsessed @theseagullqueen @queenofthesquirps @jolinaaa00 @knowall7k @neutronstarchild @fawn-eyed-girl @eringobroke @sapphirestarxx @clearwillow @dangerouspompadour @misspepperpottss  @jayangel10 @master-ray5 @sailorsilverladybug @astraearose93 @egosolivagant @fandompromptsandfun @fandomartlover @holi-holy @kagometaishostory

Chapter One

It would be the first time in years I had stepped into a forest like this. Fear had kept me away. With it being so long and things so changed, I felt safe. Not to mention it wasn’t the same woods that I originally feared. 

“Come on Kikyo!”

I was spacing out, looking out at the horizon as we rose above it. Ayumi ahead of me, I turned back to her and the path with a smile. “Where did you guys find this hike?”

“Google,” Hojo stated simply. 

The boots felt strange but I was getting used to them. As well as being deep in the forest with my friends. “It’s beautiful.”

Ayumi giggled, “you fought us so hard on coming here, I thought for sure you’d be bitching the whole time!”

Yes, I had fought the idea, cursing the fact that my friends were adventurous for the first time since I met them. We had done a lot of things together. They had really brought me out of my shell. Skydiving was still my favorite. 

So I knew it looked weird when I turned down a simple hike. The path wasn’t on any map and according to Hojo, it was magical. I had to agree but I was biased. Regardless of my previous trepidation, I loved the wild and untamed forest the most. 

Now that we were deep within, I felt all my worries and anxiety were for nothing. I felt nothing, not even a tingle. There was nothing here in these woods that was a threat to me or my friends. 

We made it to the top of the mountain, panting and glistening with sweat. Eri was passing out water from her pack while I dug out some dried seaweed. Sitting on rocks, the fog cleared and we could see all the way across the valley of thick trees and brush to the town in the far distance. The air was cleaner, crisper than I had breathed in a long time. It reminded me of days long past. 

Watching the sun start to drop and the sky turn to gold, we all silently agreed it was time to go. We made it back to the car by sunset. My hand was on the door when it hit me. If I hadn’t had a hold on something, I would have fallen to my knees. It had been so long, I forgot how overwhelming and powerful the sensation was. 

“I… I need to go.”

Eri looked at me with a slight lift on her lips. “Then go in the bush. We’re too far out for a bathroom.”

I was shaking but none noticed thankfully. “No, I need to get out of here. Away from all of you.”

All smiles dropped, Hojo grabbing my shoulder gently. “Kikyo? What’s wrong?”

The feeling left, coming and going quickly. I took a deep breath to steady myself before fixing the damage I had made in my haste. “Nothing. Sorry, I’m just… tired.”

They each looked to one another and I wondered if they would believe it. Hojo was the first to turn back to me with a smile. “Let’s get you home then?”

Holding onto me a little longer than necessary, Hojo showed me affection the only way he dared. I worried he would confess to me soon. Then I would have to leave the group earlier than planned. I would have to leave someday, ghost them completely as I had done many others in the past. I would miss them just as I did all my other friends now long gone. But that was the nature of my secret and how I kept it all these years. 

This time when I felt it, I didn’t let fear overrule me. Keeping calm in the back of the SUV we all crowded into, I quickly got out when it stopped at my place and said my goodbyes. It would most likely be the last time I saw any of them. 

As I neared my door, my hands began to shake. It was coming from inside my apartment. There was no point in running, I had been found. All this time I had managed to stay hidden, I assumed no one was looking for me. That may still be true but it didn’t change the fact that I had inadvertently stepped into trouble and it had followed my scent to my home. 

That was why the feeling went away in the woods. I hadn’t been left and forgotten. No, my scent was all that was needed to find my home and wait. 

Even though I expected it, my heart still jumped into my throat as I opened my door to the creature that sat in my living room. I closed my door, using my body as I fell back on it with dread. 

Standing on four paws, the large dog snarled at me. He stood as tall as a Great Dane but was the shape and coloring of a wolf. But it wasn’t a wolf, it was a dog. 

“Hello, Inuyasha.”

The snarl stopped but I knew he was still frowning. I didn’t dare move or look away, watching as he shifted. His bones and muscles twisted while his shaggy white hair retreated, all of it save for the hair on his head which grew in length until down his back. The white fur changed to peachy skin and the muscles bubbled and popped out all over his toned body. Now standing on two thick, human legs, the only thing that remained the same was his glowing, demonic, gold eyes and fuzzy white ears on top of his head. 

No matter what form he was in, Inuyasha was beautiful. Stunningly, which was why I still couldn’t move even as he stalked towards me. In a flash, he had my wrists in his hard grip and slammed them back into the door above my head. 

“Hello, Mate. Long time no see?”

I shudder, his naked body close to me, and the heat of his skin wafting over mine was close to driving me mad. “What are you doing here?”

He shook his head slowly and clicked his tongue. “You messed up. Stepped too close to me and I felt it. It was nothing to figure out your path and find your scent, leading me here.”

Leaning in, he put his face so close, I could feel the tip of his nose as it brushed my skin and the air as he dragged it in, smelling me. He went from my shoulder, up my neck, to my hair. But then he went back to my ear. 

“I thought you were dead,” I whimpered at his harsh whisper, his emotions felt even as he spoke so soft only I would hear. He was trembling against me now. “For years. But my mark didn’t fade. So I thought… I had screwed up somehow. Then I realized… you left me.”

“I… I’m sorry. I had to.”

“Is that your sapling out on the balcony?”

He had come in through the window, passing my tree in the small planter. I gave him a nod as my heart tripped in my chest. 

“It’s grown. You’ve been taking care of it. As you should I suppose. So you dug it up and ran? Why?”

I couldn’t tell him. Not now, not ever. I didn’t know what damage it would do. “I…”

He was waiting for an answer but I had nothing. Silence fell over us but it didn’t last. Inuyasha pulled out of my neck and glared down at me, his eyes no longer gold. Now they were red. 

“You left me. Cared so little about our bond and our mating that you didn’t even say goodbye…”

“I couldn’t…”

“For decades now I’ve had your mark, laughing at me for ever thinking you gave a shit about me…”

“Inuyasha, please…”

His mouth crashed to mine painfully and my body responded instantly. Roughly, he put my arms around his neck and grabbed the back of my thighs hard. I had no choice but to wrap my legs around him and he continued to press me against the door. He threw me to the floor and continued.

“As good as you remember, Kikyo?”

I felt sick, my belly turning when he called me by that name. “Don’t… don’t call me that…”

“Oh? So only your human friends can call you that? If it bothers you so much, then use your real name.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t…”

His face inches from mine, I watched the colors swirl in his eyes. Red and gold mixing around his irises. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have left me for the damn human world?!”

“I didn’t…”

He left me on the floor before him while he sat on his heels. I waited, waited for him to say something. To hold me. To be just like the man I remembered. But instead, he got to his feet and walked around me. 

“Inuyasha…”

He stopped but didn’t turn, facing the window he had undoubtedly entered from. “You’re my mate so I’m bound to you as you are me. But there is no longer love between us; not since you broke my heart and left me for dead.”

“I… I’m sorry…”

“Doesn’t fucking matter now. Because now that I’ve found you, you will do what I want. I’ll come and go as I please and screw you when and how I want. You’re no longer my Mate. You’re my whore.”

I was shaking and so was he. The cold tone of his voice left me freezing on the floor. The floor he had just had his way with and left me on. As soon as I saw him, smelled him, I wanted him, wanted it, wanted him to make love to me like we once did. That wasn’t what he did and it wasn’t what he was going to do to me in the future. 

Standing on the edge of his escape, he finally looked back at me before he disappeared. “See you soon, Kagome.”

With my name (my real name) on his lips, I rolled to my side and curled into myself. My clothes were nothing but rags under me while my boots knocked the floor. Not as hard or as loud as they had while Inuyasha fucked me but they were still there. 

With one hand, I grabbed my wrist, the one that had his mark. Slowly tracing the faint purple moon on my wrist I allowed myself to cry. It had been a long time since I was reminded of what I had given up and it didn’t lessen the ache in the slightest. 

I knew she was near, I could smell her. A week of chasing her and I refused to give up. 

I caught sight of her a short distance away. Her golden flank flashed in the peaks of sunlight through the heavily shaded woods. She was grazing, her mouth low to the grass as she nibbled. 

She was waiting. 

I slowed my approach, careful with my paws so I didn’t alert her. She might be waiting but with her running from me at every turn since we met, I knew better than to let her on to my presence. She still felt it; felt me before I was close enough to strike. 

Her muzzle lifted and her azure eyes found my golden ones. A flash of white and she was off, her tail high as she ran. And I chased. Today would be the day. I could feel it, a tingling in my spine and loins stemming from the hurried breaths she took. 

She was excited. 

I could hear it in her breaths and smell it in the air; her white tail turned upwards and showing me her hindquarters while scenting the wind with her sweet, succulent musk. 

But then I lost sight of her, turning hard and fast down a long lane of bamboo. It ran thick around the water’s edge, a river that parted the forest and many animals drank from, and hid her from me. When I rounded the tall grass and entered the narrow path of its forest, I stopped short. 

There she was, knee-deep, quickly cupping water and splashing it over her body as if it would cool down her heat. No longer the gentle and beautiful doe I’d chased for days on end, she stopped and stood at her full height as the gorgeous woman I met over a week ago. 

Her long black hair curled with dripping water; water that ran down her breasts to her flat belly. Dark curls met it before sliding over her round hips and slender thighs, sad when the water had to return to the river. 

She didn’t face me, half-turned and giving me her side. I took in the sight of her as much as I could, feeling her eyes on me the entire time. The sand was soft under my paws; soon under my feet as I stood up before her. Her lids closed and opened slowly, black lace brushing her rosy cheeks as she lowered her sights over me. 

I was already up to my knees, grabbing her thin arms and enjoying the feel of her soft skin on the pads of my fingers. Her hands went to my chest when I pulled her to me, her chin shooting up to keep her eyes on mine. Twisting us, I had her on the sand, watching as she waited, laying on her back for me. Her eyes were everywhere, searching for any other eyes on us. 

What we were doing was probably breaking the rules. Considered a sin, with me a Hanyou and her a forest nymph, a Dryad. If that’s the case, then they would have to take it up with the fates as they were the ones responsible. This union was beyond mine or her control. 

Crawling over her, I grabbed her face and stilled her search and worry. If anyone were near, I would have smelled them. 

Now, with her eyes wide on me and only me, I lowered my mouth to hers. Sucking in her air (tasting her fully) it was like nothing else in this world. It ran sweet down my tongue and burned in my belly like ale. 

“Inuyasha…” She whispered when I pulled away.

The tears in her eyes made them sparkle like sapphires. In the short time, we spent together before this moment, I had not told her my name. And she didn’t tell me hers. But I knew it; just as she knew mine, pulling her to me and cradling her in my arms. 

Mates always know their names and she was finally ready to be mine. 

“Kagome…”

Panting, I pulled back from her hold, her eyes glassy and to the sky. Taking her hand, I sunk my fangs into her wrist. She flinched as if waking from a dream, looking at me as I marked her. Kagome didn’t hesitate, taking my arm and biting until she drew blood. Her blood slid down my throat as mine did hers, sucking slightly as we left our marks. 

Retracting my fangs, I watched. Sure enough, the swollen and bloodied mark turned, changing into a waning moon of a light purple that stood out greatly on Kagome’s skin. 

She was watching my skin, her eyes wide and curious. Such a beautiful creature, I struggled to understand how she was mine. But as her bite turned into an arrow the same golden color of her doe form, there was no confusion. 

The gods had accepted our mating.

[myforeverforlife]

caught in your orbit.

Byun Baekhyun, a name synonymous with success. His fame skyrocketed during his early days as an actor and model, and it seemed like his new venture into fashion design was taking him even higher. You’ve worked with Baekhyun for years, accompanying him to shoots and using his face as a canvas for your makeup. You’re no stranger to Baekhyun’s flirtatious advances, but as much as you’d like to give in, something holds you back...

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Word Count: 3,952

Masterlist

It was easy to be swept up in the modeling industry, where each face seemed even more beautiful than the last. But you've always been intensely career-driven, and you were determined not to let anything distract you from your work. 

However, it was hard when former model/actor turned creative director for fashion brand Privé was sitting in your makeup chair. It never failed to amaze you how Byun Baekhyun easily drew people into his orbit, everyone attracted to the shine and brilliance that he emanated. 

And you were one of them — a moth drawn to a luminous flame.

Baekhyun's soft locks fell over his forehead, styled messily in a way to suggest a carefree look. "How long has it been since we worked together? I haven't seen you in forever." He opened his eyes, staring up at you with a fond smile. 

“We saw each other at the TirTir shoot two days ago, Baekhyun. Now, stop talking. You’re going to ruin my work,” you chastised him as you hurried to salvage the crooked smudge of shadow drawn along his lashes. You were in the midst of giving him the illusion of thicker eyelashes without the harshness of regular eyeliner. In fact, for this shoot, you were forgoing it altogether.  

Dutiful as ever, Baekhyun shut his mouth, although you could see the corners of his lips twitching as he struggled to remain still. The two of you had built up a playful friendship over the years, a light game of cat-and-mouse going back and forth. For every joke, every mischievous nudge in your direction, you were easily able to match him with one of your own. Of course, Baekhyun had been a canvas for other makeup artists to work on, but none of them came close to you. He admired your work so much, that he had asked you to work exclusively for him, a constant part of his team. You often spent long, exhausting hours following him around to events and schedules, but you took pride in your work, and you genuinely enjoyed being around Baekhyun.

Maybe a bit too much. 

As you finished smudging the eyeshadow at the base of his lashes, you took a step back. Today’s shoot called for a natural, laid-back kind of look. Baekhyun was honored to be chosen as the model for the front cover of Lined magazine, along with a 5-page story on his career. The emphasis of this spread was to highlight Baekhyun's achievements — all while managing to stay humble and innovative. As a result, the creative team had selected outfits with muted colors like beige and rich navy blue, all to highlight the star of the month's issue.

You had done your best to complement these outfit choices, choosing to keep eye makeup to a minimum with only eyeshadow along the top lashline. The rest of Baekhyun’s face had been kept minimal as well. Since his skin was already maddeningly clear, you had chosen to skip his regular cushion foundation and used only concealer for any touch-ups. His cheeks were dusted with a faint flush of a pale peachy color, and you had put a bit of highlighter atop the blush. The highlighter wasn’t the shimmery type that you usually used. Instead, you opted for a cream highlighter that gave Baekhyun’s face a soft glow, seeming to hint at a natural radiance that came from within. A delicate tinted balm was the only thing to coat his lips, and you had scattered faint freckles over his cheekbones as a finishing touch. 

Baekhyun opened his eyes as you turned to look at his face in the mirror. He grinned as your eyes traced over his features, studying your work and looking for anything else that needed to be done. "Like what you see?" he asked, a soft purr. 

"Maybe peach is the wrong color," you mused, ignoring his obvious attempt at flirting.

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, letting out a soft laugh. "Even when you're looking at me, you're not really looking at me." 

"I am," you countered. Deft fingers pulled out another blush palette, searching through assorted colors before selecting a slightly orange-brown shade. "It's my job to stare at you for hours on end, Baekhyun." 

"You know what I mean." He stared up at your face as you colored his cheeks subtly with the new color. "Not as part of your work, but just me. Just Baekhyun." He licked his lips nervously, eyes darting away and back before speaking again.  "I want you to look at me the way that I look at you," he added quietly. 

You paused, brush held up in the air before you sighed. "You're my boss. And as if that wasn't enough, you're Byun Baekhyun. South Korea's beloved jewel, one of the most recognizable faces." Placing the makeup brush down, you snapped the blush palette closed with a tiny click. 

"So you've never thought of me in that way?"

"What way?"

Baekhyun groaned. "Don't play dumb, Y/N. You know what I mean." 

As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. It would take a fool to ignore how all of Baekhyun's actions, his sweet words directed towards you were unlike any that he gave to everyone else. For you, he saved only the most charming of smiles, the most melodious sounds of his lilting laughter. You had entertained the thought a few times — the thought of dating the genius model and fashion trendsetter, Byun Baekhyun. But every time, you pushed those thoughts away. Even if you did feel the same way, there was no way that it would work out. 

"Baekhyun." You glanced at the clock, eyes widening as you realized that he needed to be out in the studio in the next few minutes. "I can't."

"Why?"

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Because I work for you. I'm just another staff member, another person supporting you from behind the scenes. I'm not like you, Baekhyun. You... you're dazzling, and easy to be around, and I love coming to work because you bring so much energy, but it would never work out. It's safer in the long run to just keep work and dating separate."

Baekhyun watched, wide-eyed during your impassioned rant. "Why can't you have both? Why does this have to end with us getting hurt?"

You opened your mouth to speak just as the door opened, Baekhyun's manager popping his head in. "You need to be out there, now," he emphasized. 

Baekhyun glanced between you and his manager, torn between duty and what he wanted to do. A weak smile found its way onto your face. "Go. I'll be out there in a bit." 

He hesitated, concern hiding in the depths of his eyes before he remembered where he was, and what he needed to do. With a parting nod, Baekhyun tore himself away, his shoes tapping softly against the floor as he headed out to where the rest of the crew was set up. 

Left alone in the small room, you turned to stare at your reflection in the mirror. You had worked hard to get to where you were, doing makeup for one of the biggest celebrities in South Korea. But you had seen and heard enough of the world of fame to realize that you wanted as little to do with it as possible. 

Baekhyun, on the other hand, thrived in it. He was shy around new people, but his genuine friendliness and ease of character won everyone over in all circles. It was terrifying to think of being thrust into that same world when you were so used to just being one of the many working behind the scenes. Plus, if your relationship fell through, nothing would ever be the same at work again. It hurt to even imagine the loss of Baekhyun's smiles as he talked to you, his boisterous laughter filling up the room. What would you do if that was all gone? You were scared of falling even deeper for him, but you were even more scared about losing what you already had. 

You frowned at your reflection, frustrated with the person you saw in there. It would be so much easier if you weren't attracted to him. But, another voice reasoned, your life wouldn't be nearly as bright without him in it. 

It was a fine line that you held, always teetering on the edge of professionalism and something more. But Baekhyun made you curious to cross that line, to see what lay ahead in the future even if it scared you. 

Running a hand through your hair, you gathered up your materials, ready to join the rest of the staff for Baekhyun's photoshoot. 

He was a star at the center of everything, and you had no choice but to fall into his orbit.

Thankfully, your schedule was clear the next day. But that didn't mean that Baekhyun hadn't tried to contact you, sending a few texts that remained unread. You had bolted out of the photoshoot as soon as you could, unwilling to pick up where you left off, especially in front of many other watchful eyes. 

The day after threw you right back into the lion's den.

This was the biggest project that Baekhyun had taken on so far, a new launch by Privé titled "Delight". The pieces were unlike anything else that the brand had created, straying from the comfy-casual look that the "Be Humble" line had. It was as if this line was crafted with the sole purpose to torture you, plans for Privé to launch more mature, sleek clothing. 

That also meant that Baekhyun would be modeling these pieces beforehand, pictures of outfit combinations running through your mind as you stepped into work. 

Baekhyun was already sitting in a chair, the hairstylist working her magic on him as she parted his hair to the side and set it in place. Much to your distress, he wore a dark, velvet jacket with nothing underneath. A delicate gold necklace rested on his chest, a few rings adorning his fingers. Baekhyun glanced up as he heard you approach, his face lighting up. "Good morning."

"Good morning," you replied, only sparing him a polite smile before leaving to consult with the rest of the staff. You could feel him staring, following along as you moved around. 

Soon enough, the hairstylist was done with her part, and all that was left was to get his makeup done. To your surprise, Baekhyun made no mention of your conversation. He waited patiently, going along with every request that you made for him to lift his chin, close his eyes, and so on. Even stranger was the silence in the room, only interrupted by the music playing from Baekhyun's phone and the bustling of people coming in and out. It was only when you let Baekhyun know you were done, did he finally speak up. 

He studied his face in the mirror, fingers running lightly over the rosy blush that you had used on his cheeks. His eyes shifted to yours, radiating warmth. "It's beautiful, thank you."

"Of course it's beautiful, it's your face." Baekhyun's expression fell, and he spun around in his chair to meet you face-to-face. "You can't say these sweet things and then push me away all the time," he pouted. 

"I'm sorry," you apologized quickly, an immediate response.

Shaking his head, Baekhyun stood up. "I don't want you to apologize, I want you to explain why you keep running. What scares you so much?"

"Baekhyun, please. Not here." You glanced over at the open door, a staff member walking past as they called out to someone else. "Let's talk about this later."

"Promise? You're not going to hide from me like last time?" 

The idea was tempting, but you also knew that you owed it to both you and Baekhyun to finally get this out and into the open. No matter how much it hurt. Nodding, you reached up to brush off a stray eyelash on his cheek. "I promise."

Baekhyun's tense shoulders loosened up, his hand chasing after yours and closing over it in a comforting warmth. "Okay," he breathed out. "Later, then."

Watching Baekhyun as he stood in front of the camera was mesmerizing, always drawing you in as if you were seeing him for the first time. Even as he lay on the floor, a hand over his exposed chest as he stared into the camera, you couldn't bear to look away. The camera lights flashed as he brought his fingers lazily up his chest, stopping at his lips. He smirked as he glanced back up to the camera, eyes hooded in the look that you recognized all too well. 

"My fatal look, able to win over people of all ages," he had explained to you once as you touched up his makeup. 

He wasn't wrong. A few of the staff oohed and aahed in appreciation, just as starstruck by his beauty. You went over next to the monitors, watching as the shots of Baekhyun flooded the screen — his eyes seeming to look directly into your own. 

The next series of shots had Baekhyun leaning against a wall, fingers tracing over the rim of a glass as he stared off into the distance. He truly was a genius model, shifting positions so that his chin rested in his hand, to letting the shadows cover part of his face as he leaned a certain way. Every time the photographer paused long enough for you to touch up Baekhyun's makeup, a wide grin appeared on the model's face. 

"You're going to smudge your lipstick if you keep touching your lips like that," you chastised gently as you leaned forward to fix it.

Baekhyun immediately clasped his hands together behind his back. "Yes, ma'am."

That brought a giggle out of you, much to Baekhyun's delight. 

The rest of the shoot followed in a similar fashion, Baekhyun taking your breath away as he posed in various outfits, and then making you burst into laughter as he joked around with you and the rest of the staff. It was a familiar routine, something you had experienced many times, but it still didn't lose its charm. Yet at the same time, it only fed your growing worries. What if you did try to make this work between you and Baekhyun, but it ended horribly? You'd be so uncomfortable around him, it would be unbearable. You were comfortable in this space where Baekhyun was both attainable, and yet out of reach. At least here, you could adore him without fear of losing him. 

You sighed as Baekhyun posed in his last outfit for the day, a cream-colored top with some purple pants — not a fashion choice you personally would've made. And yet, he still managed to pull it off effortlessly. He sat on the floor, knees bent as he leaned his elbows against the top. His lips were a shiny, glossy pink, only emphasizing the natural pout to his lips. Once, he accidentally licked his lips, face contorting into a look of shock and disgust at the bitter taste. You laughed as you helped him, giving him a napkin to wipe his mouth with before reapplying his lip gloss.

Finally, after many hours and multiple outfit changes, he was done! Everyone cheered as it was announced that the shoot was over, Baekhyun going around and thanking everyone for their work and commitment. You headed back to the dressing room first, nervous for what you knew was yet to come.

Baekhyun followed along shortly after, darting into the empty room as you were in the midst of cleaning up. "Hey," he murmured.  You sank down in a chair, shoulders slumping as you tried to calm the racing in your chest. "Baekhyun, I like you. You know I do. But it's not that easy, especially because it's you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Groaning, you bit down on your bottom lip as you tried to figure out how to phrase your thoughts. "You're a star, Baekhyun. I'm not. We only see each other during work, and that's it. What if we're just too different? What if this doesn't work out?" You raised a finger as Baekhyun opened his mouth to speak. "And don't say that we won't, because you don't know that."

"But why are you so convinced that it will?" He came closer, eyes blazing as he stared down at you. "There's nothing that I've seen that convinces me this'll end in a breakup. You care about me, and I care about you. That's the only thing that matters." 

"It's not that easy, Baekhyun. I," here you paused, nervous about what you were about to say. "I love getting to be a part of your day, to see you light up and be in your element. I can't imagine not coming into work and seeing you there. I can't imagine a life without you. But I'm so scared that things will end badly, and that all of this will be taken away — that it'll just be too awkward for us and that we'll lose what we have now." You felt the stinging of tears in your eyes, hands coming up to wipe at them roughly as you stood and looked around for some spare tissues.

Baekhyun came over, wiping away the few tears that had managed to escape. "But what if there's something better ahead?" he asked softly. "We won't know unless we try." His lips curved into a sad smile as you stood there, eyes still closed and unwilling to look at him. "Y/N. Look at me, please."

Who were you to refuse him? 

Slowly, you opened your eyes, heart tightening as you saw how Baekhyun stared at you so lovingly, so tenderly. 

"I like you. I've never been more sure of anything in my life. And I care about you enough to say that I want to try this. I'm not that naive to believe that everything will be smooth from here on out, but I still want to try because at least I'll be with you. Not as your boss, or Byun Baekhyun... just yours. Your Baekhyun." One of his hands moved to caress your cheek, and you took pleasure in the way that your face fit perfectly in his hold. "We can go as slowly as you want, just... don't run away before anything's even started. Be brave with me, Y/N."

It was easier said than done, but coming from Baekhyun, you found the walls surrounding your heart start to weaken and crumble down. He was right in his own way — how would you know for sure unless you took that leap of faith? Besides, you would have Baekhyun by your side, strong, supportive Baekhyun who never let you down.

"Okay," you agreed, letting out a breathy laugh as Baekhyun's eyes grew wide with surprise. "I mean it. I'll be brave with you, Baekhyun." You reached up to poke the tiny mole resting beside his upper lip, one of the features that you liked best on him. "You're mine now," you said, relishing in the fact that you were the only one in the world who could say those words.

"And you're mine." Baekhyun leaned in to kiss the top of your forehead, completely forgetting about his lip gloss until he pulled away and saw the smear of pink covering your skin. "Oh no," he gasped, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. 

You looked in the mirror, bursting into giggles when you saw the mess on your face. Immediately, you retaliated by swiping the lipgloss from Baekhyun's face, drawing a faint line that nearly reached his cheek. While you had been expecting to laugh at how ridiculous he looked, you were shocked to find that he still managed to look good. Too good...

"What?" Baekhyun glanced in the mirror, staring at the smudged lipgloss caressing his bottom lip. "Oh," he breathed out, turning back to you. A slow, teasing smile grew on his face as he reached up with one hand. You watched, unable to look away as he rubbed the back of his hand against his lips, only dragging the shimmering gloss further across his face. 

With a quick intake of breath, you forced out a shaky laugh. "You make me want to kiss you when you do things like that," you blurted out, barely realizing what you had said after the words left your mouth.

Baekhyun blinked in surprise, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips. "Then do it." 

You didn't need any more prompting, almost knocking into him as you leaned up to kiss him. It might not have been the best kiss ever because of the tacky, sticky lip gloss, but the fact that it was Baekhyun you were kissing more than made up for it.

Baekhyun melted against you, hands pulling you close and tightening in the hem of your shirt. He gasped as you nipped softly at his bottom lip, no longer caring about getting lip gloss all over you. 

A loud thud from out in the open studio startled both of you apart, you and Baekhyun having completely forgotten where you were. 

Baekhyun quickly looked over his shoulder, sighing in relief when he saw no one there. He turned back to you with a bashful smile, his already rosy cheeks taking on an even pinker shade. He placed his hands on his cheeks, laughing at how warm his face was.  "As pretty as you made me look today, I need to get out of this makeup. My skin's dying here." 

You had cleansing water and cotton rounds on hand after every shoot, already used to Baekhyun's discomfort of staying in makeup for too long. He drenched another cotton round in the liquid as you began erasing the makeup on his face. 

"I know it's been a long day, but do you want to grab dinner together?" He looked up at you from underneath his lashes, biting down on his lip as he waited for your answer. 

"I'd like that," you replied, carefully wiping away the rest of his lipgloss. "Just as long as we're not out too late. We have another busy day tomorrow." 

"I'm the boss, I can push back the starting time," Baekhyun joked, chuckling when you rolled your eyes. 

"Don't be silly," you reprimanded, although there was no trace of malice in your voice. How could anyone be mad with him? 

"You're the center of my universe, Y/N. I'd push the shoot back years if it meant I'd get more free time with you." Baekhyun smirked proudly as you felt the tips of your ears growing warm at his unexpected sweetness. 

"Stop," you whined, pressing your forehead to his chest. You could feel his suppressed laughter rumbling in his chest, an infectious sensation. 

"Alright," Baekhyun gave in, lifting your face back up so he could look at you. "Let me get out of these, and then we'll be out of here." He dove in for a quick kiss before rushing out of the room, his voice echoing down the hall as he called out to his manager. 

You were caught up in his orbit, and yet he had called you the center of his universe. It was strange to think of how much space you took up in his heart, and he in yours. It was still nerve-racking to jump into something new, to be brave in the face of an unknown future. But Baekhyun was by your side, calming you down and working with you to sort out your fears before they held you back. Just Baekhyun, not mega-celebrity Byun Baekhyun.

Yours.

A/N: this is basically just me self-indulging in looking at delight scans and gushing about how good baekhyun looks. I had this sort of model/make-up artist draft sitting around for about a year, and this finished fic is COMPLETELY different from how that started out. 

for reference: the first shoot is from baekhyun’s lined magazine cover shoot, and the second is from his teasers for delight (specifically the sticky and sweet ones)

[timeforelfnonsense]

Between Heaven & Hell

Astarion x Dafni

Rating: M (no spice but its mentioned) 

Ao3

Inaleth Sweet is a D&D oc belonging to one of my dear friends @ladyofthelatke from one of our old games. We were talking about Dafni liking romance novels and realized she'd be a fan of Inaleth. A fun little easter egg! The name of Dafni's book was also brainstormed by our D&D party! I don't know that I love the ending but meh!

Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series 

Downtime for Dafni had become rare and fleeting in the past few days. Not that she mined being busy! She’d never been much good at sitting still. Her mind moved from thought to thought as quick as a hummingbird’s wing. A life of adventure rather agreed with her breezy disposition, that was a silver lining among the mess at least. But she found herself road-weary and overextended. Perhaps it was the tadpole or the fact she’d been in more battles in two days than she had in the last year. She couldn’t be sure. Either way, a little idle time would be good for her.

She was lounging on her belly in a grassy patch on the river bank, idly flipping through the dog-eared pages of a novel bound in soft pink leather, Between Heaven and Hell scrawled across the cover in faded gold lettering. It was a rather risqué account of an amours elf torn between the affection of her aasimar and a tiefling suiters. The first in a series penned by one Inaleth Sweet of Waterdeep -  A fellow eladrin and personal favorite author of Dafni’s. She’d read it dozens of times but it never failed to enchant and intrigue her. 

She’d always enjoyed reading. It was the only time she could bring herself to be (mostly) still. She could lose herself in the colorful whimsy of her imagination. She’d always been a romantic. Her headful of silly daydreams of love and adventure from a tender age. She had spent days on end in her village imagining what the world might be like beyond the shelter of Peleira and the familiar forests and shores of Faerie-Gwynneth. Books provided her wanderlust an outlet in the years before she crossed into the Material.

A pale hand snatched the book from her hands pulling her back to reality. Astarion glanced down at her with a mischievous grin, raising a singular angled brow. She clumsily fumbled to her knees attempting to reclaim it from him but Astarion simply raised the novel out of her reach. 

He looked almost ethereal, shrouded in the soft, peachy glow of sunset as he flipped through his stolen prize. His loose undershirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel showing off his lanky feline-esque physique. It was completely unfair for him to be that gorgeous! Somehow he managed to mix boyish charm with noble dignity. She imagined Astarion was very much the kind of man humans pictured when they talked about the peerless beauty and grace of the elves. 

“My, my, Daffodil, I never pegged you as a consumer of salacious novels. Aren’t you just full of surprises?” He said through a chuckle as he began to thumb through the pages, “You fold the corners of your books? And I thought I was despicable!” 

He might have been from the Material Plane but he had that spark of mirth common to those hailing from her homeland. It was a welcome change of pace. She’d found he could be quite charming (when he wasn’t being surly or aloof). He’d taken to treating her with teasing endearment as of late.  He would refer to her by little diminutives such as darling or dear. That was when he wasn’t calling her by that twee pet name, Daffodil. She knew that the majority of his doting was little more than suave twaddle but she couldn’t help but be won over by him.

 There were things about himself he’d clearly chosen not to disclose. She was never one for secrets but she could hardly begrudge others for having them. Astarion’s omissions were likely connected to whatever had made him so prickly in the first place. She was curious of course but she wasn’t going to press him for anything he was unwilling to give.  Dafni understood relationships much the same way she did gardens. Both required patience and dedication in order for something beautiful to flourish. She earnestly hoped a genuine friendship could blossom between them but that meant allowing him to open up to her in his own time no matter how badly she wanted to bombard him with a-million-and-one questions. 

 “What have I done to deserve this roguery?” 

“Roguery?” Astarion snickered.

“Roguery.” She repeated. “Now find your own way to pass the time and give me mine back!”

Her brows stitched, her lower lip forming that perfect little pout of hers. She was trying very hard to appear cross but her eyes gave her away. They were sparkling with impish delight as she made another valiant effort at retrieving the silly thing. Despite her tilt towards clemency, Dafni was a bit of a puck. 

“This is my way of passing the time. I can only wander among the trees so many times before the novelty wears off. Besides, making you blush is far more entertaining.” 

Dafni snorted a blite smile forming at the corners of her plump lips, “You are incorrigible, you know that right?”

“So I’ve been told.” 

“Well, I suppose if you are that bord I could read to you?” She yanked the book from his hands, clutching it to her chest smug and victorious. Reaching out with her free hand to tap a finger on the tip of his nose. “But, I’m skipping all the dirty bits!” 

“Spoilsport.” 

“It’s that or walking around the woods for the hundredth time.” 

“You do raise an excellent point.” He sighed carefully arranging himself on the grass beside her, “Very well, I’ll agree to your stipulations.” 

“Just be glad I’m not going to make you read for one of the characters! And because I’m just so sweet I’ll even start from the beginning for you.” 

He listened intently as Dafni delivered the tale as if she were performing a one-woman play. Her face was adorably expressive as she changed her voice with each new character. Messy curls bouncing with every animated gesture. Occasionally she’d trail off feigning horror at the ‘dirty bits’ as she called them.

 What would lewd words have sounded like in her lilt voice? Part of him wanted to find out right then. That wasn’t the first time such musings had crossed his mind. Dafni had made a few appearances in his private thoughts since their meeting. She had a coy, maidenly allure that conjured up all kinds of tempting images. These were nothing more than flights of fancy but fun nonetheless. Just another benefit of keeping her around.

He found himself lingering around her almost on instinct. The joy that followed her was tangible and warm as the sun on his skin. When she was near his mind felt quieted and the fear that gnawed at him would soften just a tad. He had grown to genuinely enjoy her company. He’d expected her to be dull and overly pious. Instead, he found she was rather amusing, coquettish even. She was witty and observant, always having a playful quip at the ready. The sort of whimsical woman whose effortless charm drew people in. She would have made an excellent vampire if not for her ridiculous soft heart.

Her compulsive need to care for every living thing  with a sob story was somewhat vexing but he could hold his nose and deal with it most days. He’d make a comment here and there but really that was for her own good. She was painfully naïve, always seeing the best in people. It was clear to him Dafni’s life had been gentle. Free of hardships that might have taught her to approach others with such little skepticism. 

A part of him was grateful for her lack of suspension.  He knew gaining the trust of at least one of the members of the party would be crucial if he intended to enjoy the benefits of traveling with a group long term. Her friendship and propensity for peace making provided him with no small measure of safety. Still, that safety was at risk if she continued to offer herself up on a silver platter to every soul with even the smallest tale of woe she came across.

He glanced over at her, a found (begrudging, but found nonetheless), smile on his lips. The last rays of the setting sun casting its light on her lovely cherubic profile. While his motivations for befriending her had been far from altruistic having her near made his life provable better. When they’d first met he’d assumed her kindness would come at a price but she had surprised him, wanting nothing but his company in exchange. Without thinking he reached out cupping her cheek in his hand. The freckles, sage skin was unbearably soft  and warm against his cool palm. Her heartbeat quickened bringing his attention to the tantalizing, wildflower sent of her blood.  She leaned in close her eyes fluttering closed- 

“We should head back to the others, it’s getting dark.” Astarion muttered, pulling back from her.

“I- Ha, of course. It’s late…” Her lower lip was caught in her teeth, her eyes darting ever so quickly from his mouth back to his eyes. 

As tempting as she might be he was already in too deep with her. If he kissed her, he’d only want more. Any change to the current dynamic could disrupt the fragile safety he’d acquired. He couldn’t put himself at risk for the temporary happiness she might have brought. Perhaps when things were more settled. When he knew he could afford the risk, he would know the taste of her lips. For now though, he would have to resist. 

[thethirdamell]

Accursed Ones - Chapter 138 - A Gift of Flesh

This is an edited version of Chapter 138 of Accursed Ones that does not include the scene with sexual assault if you wanted to read more than the summary but did not want that content included.

9:35 Dragon 20 Eluviesta Late Afternoon Ferelden: Vigil’s Keep Courtyard

No.

It was such a simple thing to say, but Anders couldn’t say it. Not to Nate and not to Hawke. Nathaniel was the only person who questioned him, and Anders hated himself when he didn���t answer. Anders didn’t remember what he said - something glib - but he knew it wasn’t yes. The fact that he hadn’t said yes hadn’t mattered to Hawke and it hadn't mattered to Nate either.

Nathaniel dropped it. Anders wished he hadn’t. Anders wished a lot of things. The rest of the day passed at the Vigil, and there was no escaping Hawke. The worst of it was no one else seemed to notice how badly Anders wanted to escape him. To everyone else, Hawke was quiet. He only spoke when he had someone to translate for him.

To Anders, he was garrulous. The signing was endless. They shouldn’t have come to the Vigil. They should cut their visit short. The Wardens were making Anders unhappy. The Wardens were making Anders unhealthy. Anders should be at home where he wouldn’t be so vulnerable, so confused, so corrupt.

The only reprieve Anders could find in it all was that Amell couldn’t see them together. He couldn’t see when Hawke stood with an arm around his waist or his shoulder, or held his hand, or squeezed his thigh. He couldn’t see how virulently Anders didn’t want Hawke to touch him, and Anders could believe that if he could, he would notice where no one else did.

Anders noticed. Anders spent the afternoon noticing and the evening afraid of what he noticed and what it meant awaited him at night. Dinner was… insane. The chefs had prepared one dish for the entire Vigil. It was a wyvern, stuffed with a gurn, stuffed with a horse, stuffed with a halla, stuffed with a swan, stuffed with a duck, stuffed with a quail, stuffed with a bunting that had choked on a gold piece the chef had pushed down its throat.

“Abomination for the abomination?” Anders joked, watching a host of servants cart the wyvern’s head to the forefront of the half dozen tables that had to be pushed together and reinforced just to hold the thing.

“It’s-... called a Gift of Flesh,” Amell explained, a bit of color creeping up his neck. “It’s considered an affront to the Maker in Orlais.”

“What’s it considered here?” Varric asked, a dubious look on his face as more servants arranged the bloated wyvern's body to look like it was crouched to take flight.

“Dinner,” Amell said, “Excuse me.” He navigated crowds well, a guiding hand grazing shoulders and elbows almost like he was dancing through them. Watching him walk away made Anders feel sick, but he didn’t know how to go after him with Hawke’s arm around his waist.

“... Varric, do you think you could-... ask Hawke to do something?” Anders asked.

“... Sure thing Blondie,” Varric said, and switched to signing to get Hawke’s attention. “Hey Killer, you get a look at this thing? I think they left the horns on the halla. Check it out-”

Varric led Hawke away and Anders went after Amell.

“Amell,” Anders called, dodging a wheelbarrow of vegetables the servants were adding to the monstrous carcass. “Amell, wait up.”

Amell stopped close to one of the exits from the main hall, head tilted to make it clear he was listening to him. “What is it, Anders?”

Yes, what was it, Anders? What are you doing trying to get Amell’s attention when you already have Hawke’s? What are you even going to say? ‘Help, my extremely considerate fiance has been paying attention to me all day?’ ‘Help, Nathaniel asked if I was happy with my engagement and I didn’t answer him and now I’m afraid no one will ask me again?’ ‘Help, I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore and I need you to ground me?’

“... No Dumat?” Anders asked.

“He’s around,” Amell said. “I don’t need him to navigate the Vigil.”

“So… a gift of flesh, huh?” Anders asked.

“... And anything else you wanted from me,” Amell said with a rueful smile.

… Hessarian save him, what was he supposed to say to that? Anders’ throat didn’t just close up on him - it packed its bags and left. Anders tried to laugh it off and all he managed was a flustered cough.

“It takes eight days to cook - it was too late to stop once they started,” Amell explained.

“You know wyverns are poisonous right?” Anders asked.

“The chefs had the venom extracted so we could serve Aquae Lucidius with dinner,” Amell explained. “I told them not to serve you anything but Aqua Magus - I know you’re not fond of hallucinations.”

Anders had only told him about his hallucinations last night. How was Amell already making accommodations for them? How could anyone be so considerate, so cautious, so compassionate?

“Not unless this is one,” Anders blurted.

“It’s not,” Amell promised, with a too-easy smile. "You can feel the Call in me. If you want, I can teach you to better sense it sometime.”

“... I want that a lot,” Anders said.

“I know you were still getting used to the taint when everything happened. I’m sorry I never got the chance to really help you with it.”

“You helped me with a lot of things,” Anders argued.

Amell kept his smile, but didn’t say anything in response.

"How much did all this cost?" Anders asked.

"... A fair amount.”

“You shouldn’t have done all of this for me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t deserve it,” Anders took a shaky breath, and he tried. Maker, he tried to tell him, but he couldn’t form all the words. “Amell - I feel terrible.”

“Why?” Amell found his arm, and squeezed. “You deserve to be happy.”

I’m not. I’m not. I’m not.

“So do you.”

“I’m trying,” Amell said softly. “Don't worry about the cost, Anders. We were overdue for a celebration. Was there anything else?"

Yes. Yes, there was something else. There were so many things else. Anders wasn't the Hero of Harring. He was just a man, and he needed a hero, but he couldn't bring himself to ask for one in the main hall anymore than he could in the courtyard. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Amell said. "Enjoy the evening."

The gargantuan feast came accompanied with a play. The Ballad of Ayesleigh told the end of the Fourth Blight. A lightshow conjured darkspawn more silly than scary, with exaggerated frowns in place of teeth, and children chased after them with wooden swords while the actors performed.

Anders spent the evening focused on it, and the night signing everything he could remember of it for Hawke. The retelling took him well over an hour, and at the end of it Hawke slept instead of sleeping with him. Anders breathed a sigh of relief when Hawke finally started snoring. He had to leave. He had to get away, but he didn’t know how to get away. He was too afraid to cast anything on Hawke. He couldn’t trust his magic, or his memory, and he didn’t know how to make sure Hawke stayed sleeping. He lay awake for hours, listening to Hawke snore, his heart skipping every time Hawke shifted or stopped, and must have fallen asleep eventually.

**Deleted Scene - Sexual Assault.**

Hawke never questioned a bath, so Anders made himself one, and threw up in it. It felt safe enough, knowing the sound was muted underwater and that the bath would drain. Anders lay in it afterwards, watching the bile float in the water, trying to remember what it was like to have sex with anyone but Hawke. Amell, Isabela, the countless women in his past and his time working at the Pearl. Had it ever felt this bad?

Hawke knocked on the door, and Anders flung a panicked handful of salts into the bath, but Hawle didn’t come in. He just said he was going to have breakfast with Varric, told him to enjoy the day, and left. Anders couldn’t enjoy the day. He couldn’t enjoy anything. He stewed in his own vomit, his head hanging over the rim of the bath, the rush of blood dizzying him until a knock came at the door to their quarters.

Anders forced himself to get dressed, and opened the door to Mistress Woolsey. The treasurer’s hair was an elegant blend of grey and white reminiscent of silver, braided into a bun like a coin at the back of her head, with eyes like the sovereigns she managed for the arling. She smiled.

“If it isn’t my favorite trouble maker,” Woolsey said.

“If it isn’t my favorite trouble unmaker,” Anders countered.

“No hug?” Woolsey asked.

Anders wasn’t sure he could stand to be touched, but he made an effort. Woolsey didn’t feel anything like Hawke. The old girl was wearing a plain linen dress, no velvets or silks, and she was soft and frail and not sturdy or broad. She gave him a ginger hug back, and her wrinkled hands felt so unlike Hawke’s he felt better. “No kiss?” Anders teased.

“Just one, and you will tell no one least they start calling me Mistress Floozy,” Woolsey kissed his cheek, grinning widely. “How have you been, Ser?”

“Peachy as a pie,” Anders lied. “I bet you’re just loving having me back with what this must be doing to the treasury.”

“I am absolutely livid,” Woolsey promised, patting his hand. “But the Commander insisted and he can be quite persuasive. Much of this was from his personal funds, in any case.”

Of course it was. Anders was an asshole.

“How much?” Anders asked.

“The wyvern, for one,” Woolsey recalled. “The Commander went hunting for it in Crestwood. Do not look so guilty - it is unbecoming. The Commander does nothing to his disadvantage. A few of the creatures were plaguing the town, and Bann Franderel could not spare the men to defend it. He’s indebted, and we should be so delighted.”

“As long as we’re delighted,” Anders supposed.

“Indeed we are. The Wardens have missed you - the Order and the men and women among it. They’ve asked for you to join them today. Walk with me.”

Anders walked with her. They stopped by the kitchens for a breakfast of muffins, and continued to the barracks. There were at least a dozen wardens awaiting his introduction, and Anders forgot most of their names as people shook his hand and passed him around.

Ser Fenley was a knight who looked like he’d lost his sword up his own ass, with a stern face and sterner disposition. Tamarel was an elven archer who was as lean as her bow with a presence that was anything but, and took up half the room with her laugh. Nolan was an ex-criminal who’d have put Andraste to shame with how he’d burn himself half to death for his sins. Ailsa was an experienced Warden who’d left Tevinter to serve beneath Amell, and by the stars in her eyes when he spoke must have meant it more literally. Martine was almost as old as Woolsey but not half as frail, with arms that put Hawke to shame.

There were others, but Anders didn’t remember them. The rest, he knew in some shape or fashion. Surana, an elven mage from the Circle who’d enjoyed more than a few healing lessons with Anders once upon a time, but no longer seemed to feel the same way about him by her scowl. Jacen, the old Dalish the Orlesians had rescued from Amaranthine’s prison who’d been arrested for poaching. Seranni, Velanna’s sister, and a ghoul they’d rescued from the Deep Roads.

Amell, Oghren, Velanna, and Nathaniel went without saying. Cards, and dice, and distractions took up most of the day. Anders didn’t have the coin to gamble, and couldn’t have been more relieved that the Wardens didn’t play for it. They gambled chores and patrols, or played for the occasional drink that Anders didn’t want to win if it wasn’t Aqua Magus anyway. After a few hands, the group dwindled down to Amell, Oghren, Velanna, Nathaniel, Jacen, and Seranni.

The little ghoul spent much of her time in Velanna’s lap, mumbling nonsense, and Anders couldn’t help but feel a little better that he wasn’t the craziest person in the room for once. The six of them sat at a table in the barracks, playing Wicked Grace, uninterrupted by the outside world, and all the horrors that came with it.

“So… not to bring up bad memories, but where is everyone else?” Anders asked, shuffling the cards in his hand. A bad one, as per usual.

“Leonie is serving in Jader, under Commander Clarel,” Amell reminded him.

“Legless Leonie,” Velanna chuckled.

Amell cleared his throat, a ripple of telekinetic energy nudging Velanna.

“What?” Velanna huffed, shoving him. “He knows - I could not wait to tell him.”

Anders had been told a lot of things. According to Amell, Leonie had been reassigned. According to Velanna, Leonie had been crippled. It felt like Anders needed to talk to everyone to get the full story, and there didn’t seem to be a better time to do it. “I know you said she lost her leg, but how did that happen?” Anders asked.

“Quickly,” Velanna grinned.

“It was a duel,” Jacen explained.

“An honorable one,” Nathaniel added, discarding a knight. Anders added it to his hand for no particular reason. He only had angels.

“Honorable,” Oghren snorted, greasy fingers making it clear which cards had been his when he discarded a few. “Shameful’s more like it with how quick she lost her leg. Stone knows what she was thinking, challenging the Boss.”

“The same thing you were, no doubt,” Velanna teased, gingerly retrieving one and wiping it off on Nathaniel’s sleeve before adding it to her hand. “The dwarf was so fearful he did not even stay to watch. As if the loss of Amell’s sight meant the loss of his magic.”

“Still waitin’ for you to lose your sense of speech,” Oghren muttered.

“Speech is not a sense, da’len,” Jacen said.

“How would he know?” Velanna asked. “He does not have any.”

“Leonie wasn’t willing to relinquish the post when Amell returned, hence the duel and the reassignment,” Nathaniel explained.

“And you just… what?” Anders prompted.

“I won,” Amell shrugged unhelpfully, and took a long drink from his tankard.

“I know that. I mean the magic. Come on, tell me,” Anders nudged him with his foot beneath the table. “What’d you do to her?”

“... It was crude magic,” Amell said.

“You-know-what magic?” Anders wondered.

“Blood and power,” Seranni mumbled from Velanna’s lap.

“No,” Amell said to both of them. “Spirit magic - a virulent bomb of corrosive poison that you plant in the blood. Larger veins were easier to sense at the time, so I went with her leg. She elected to yield when it exploded.”

“Crawled away crying, if I recall correctly,” Nathaniel said.

“Eheheh,” Oghren chortled.

“I am sure we all took no pleasure in it,” Jacen said gently.

“I did,” Velanna snorted, discarding a card and drawing another.

“... Is that okay?” Anders asked. “I remember before everyone was pretty adamant that you should keep the magic to a minimum.”

“Some still are,” Amell said.

“We have the Teryn’s support,” Nathaniel said.

“You have the Teryn’s support,” Velanna corrected him.

“Amell has mine,” Nathaniel waved off the distinction. “Fergus Cousland was ambushed by darkspawn during the Fifth Blight, and taken in by Chasind wilders-”

“Regular damsel in distress, that one,” Oghren chimed in. “Ambushed in the Blight. Ambushed after it. Ain’t much for an ally.”

“In any case,” Nathaniel said over him, “He lived with one of their tribes for a time, and their shaman healed him. I can’t say if the experience changed him, but he’s supportive of what we’re trying to achieve.”

“With mages you mean,” Anders said.

“Cleaning up your mess is what we mean,” Oghren muttered. "Still don’t know what the fuck you were thinking sending us the old broad.”

"Fuck templars, no doubt," Velanna guessed.

“Be nice, Oghren,” Amell said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Oghren said.

“... Where is Johane?” Anders asked. “I haven’t seen her yet.” And Anders definitely did not want Hawke to see her first.

"Soldier’s Peak," Amell said. "It's more defensible than the Vigil."

“Getting it on with Avernus, prolly,” Oghren chuckled to himself. “Bet their old bones creak louder than the bed, if you know what I mean.”

“Oghren, we always know what you mean,” Nathaniel sighed.

“... Does it need to be defensible?” Anders asked.

“It might,” Amell admitted. “It was built after the second Blight during the Glory Age, and the Warden Commander at the time-”

“No one cares,” Oghren interrupted him.

“History is a luxury, da’len,” Jacen said. “We would all do well to remember it.”

“Our history,” Velanna corrected him. “Humans have enough of it.”

“We are Grey Wardens now, da’len,” Jacen argued. “Their history is our history.”

Amell didn’t pick his story back up. Anders was more for the future than the past, but if Amell cared… Anders watched him shuffle through his hand, his thumb running over the bumps on the edge of the card, and nudged him under the table again. “... What’d the Warden Commander do?”

“He went mad,” Amell said.

“Oh fun,” Anders said.

“He waited too long to go to his Calling, and expanded the fortress with hidden passages and alcoves, trying to protect himself from the shadows he saw. By the time he died, the path to the Peak had become a labyrinth of mine-shafts. It’s difficult to navigate unless you know the way, and we don’t share it outside the Order.

“King Arland Theirin tried to assault the Peak during the Storm Age, and the siege lasted months. When the King realized he couldn’t starve the Wardens out because of the Taint, he stormed the Keep, and only managed to defeat the Wardens because the demons they summoned in their defense turned on them.”

“Theirins,” Oghren grunted

“Theirins,” Amell agreed.

“And that won’t happen to us because… we won’t summon demons?” Anders guessed.

“Us?” Oghren repeated. “What ‘us,’ Sparkles? You’re farting off to Kirkwall with the fiance when the month is out.”

“Freedom isn’t something I'm fighting for in Kirkwall,” Anders argued, rather than address the sickened sensation he felt at any mention of Hawke after how he’d woken up with him. “It’s something I’m fighting for everywhere, for every mage.”

“A noble fight, da’len,” Jacen said encouragingly. “One our Keepers have long fought.”

“One we do not need humans fighting for us,” Velanna said.

“Come on off it, you’re the first person who ever agreed to help me fight it,” Anders kicked her chair.

“Perhaps I am simply feeling contrary,” Velanna hummed.

“Who are you and what have you done with my love?” Nathaniel joked.

Velanna rolled her eyes, “I am simply saying this is not just your fight - and you have a typical human arrogance to assume it is.”

“I’m the one forcing it,” Anders argued. “You’re not the only ones I’ve sent mages to for safekeeping. If you support me, if you support my cause, you put yourselves in danger.”

“You just figure that one out?” Oghren asked.

“... Why are you doing this?” Anders asked. From what Anders could recall of their letters, none of them had appreciated the fact that he’d forced his fight on them. From what Anders could recall of his conversations with Hawke, none of them appreciated him at all. He hadn’t seen them for years. They weren’t his friends. He wasn’t their friend. He was just an unstable danger they didn’t deserve in their lives, but they were all still here, inviting him to be a part of it. “Why are you all doing this?”

“Don’t see you left us much choice,” Oghren said.

“This is a good fight, da’len,” Jacen said. “One Our People must have if we are to hold Ostagar as we did not hold the Dales. If the Chantry does not respect the sovereignty of our Keepers, how will they respect the sovereignty of our land?”

“Like dragons they fly, glory upon wings. Like dragons they savage, fearsome pretty things,” Seranni mumbled.

“We have slain dragons,” Velanna said confidently.

“I would prefer a dragon to an Exalted March,” Nathaniel admitted.

“The Dalish have been our biggest supporters since we’ve declared freedom for mages,” Amell said. “Keeper Lanaya especially. She presides over Ostagar, and she’s an old friend and ally from the Blight. She’s agreed to stand with us if it comes to that, but her focus right now is on resolving the tensions with the Bann of Calon-”

“Yawn,” Oghren slapped the Angel of Death on the table. “Angel of Death. Play your hands, you blighters. Serpents high.”

Everyone played, saying their hands aloud for Amell’s benefit. Anders lost. Nathaniel won. Velanna gathered up the cards to shuffle for another round, and Seranni abandoned her to wander out of the barracks and into the shadows.

“... How did you find her?” Anders asked when she left.

“We searched the Deep Roads,” Amell said.

“We had help,” Nathaniel said.

“What kind of help?” Anders asked. “Dwarves?”

Oghren snorted.

“Not exactly,” Nathaniel said vaguely. “Let’s just say we live in strange times.”

“Is anyone going to tell me what that means?” Anders asked.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Sparkles,” Oghren said.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Anders joked.

“As a bronto’s backside,” Oghren agreed.

Velanna dealt another hand, and Anders decided to drop it. He gathered up his cards and arranged them in his hand, eyeing over the bunks scattered throughout the barracks and trying to recall who he’d seen and who he hadn’t. “What happened to Gerod?” Anders asked.

“Reassigned,” Amell said. “Montsimmard.”

“All limbs intact,” Nathaniel added.

“Unfortunately,” Velanna sighed.

“It seemed warranted with Kieran, Amell, and the other children at the Vigil,” Amell elaborated.

“Damn right it did,” Oghren muttered. “Sick fuck.”

“Did anything happen with him?” Anders asked.

“No,” Amell said. “He was a good Warden, but it wasn’t something I could overlook. Clarel found a post for him.”

“A good Warden?” Anders repeated - disgust welling in him for the memory of when Anders had pried Gerod off Sigrun in the middle of the night. “Are you serious?”

“Being a good Warden doesn’t make someone a good man, da’len,” Jacen said gently.

Amell tilted his head towards Jacen’s voice, as if concurring with him, but it wasn’t a comfort. The memory haunted Anders throughout the rest of the game. He couldn’t help wondering what Amell would have done if he had been there, down in the Deep Roads, faced with one of his Warden trying to rape another. If he would have killed him, like Anders had tried to kill him, or if he would have let it go, the way Leonie and Eram had let it go. If he would have done something then.

If he would do something now.

Anders couldn’t go back to his room that night, but there was nowhere else for him to go. He didn’t know if Hawke wanted to have more sex and he didn’t want to find out. If he could just get Hawke to actually sleep through the night, he might have felt better. He might have felt safer. He just didn’t know how to get him to sleep when he couldn’t trust his magic or his memory, but maybe he could trust someone else’s memory.

Varric didn’t even question it. He just handed over the knockout powder like he might a cup of chamomile tea. Anders hated him a little for it. If Varric knew why Anders wanted it, he shouldn’t have given it to him. He should have helped him instead, but Varric was so concerned with helping Hawke that he didn’t seem to care about helping Anders. But why would he? What did Anders even need help with? Having too much sex? Who needed help with that?

Anders stuffed the vial into his pocket, panic rising when Hawke walked them back to their room after dinner. He should have put it in Hawke’s drink, but he hadn’t thought about it. He just knew he needed it. He just knew he needed something. Now that he had it, he didn’t know how to use it, and it wasn’t like Varric was going back to their room with them. What if Anders thought he used it and then he didn’t, just like he thought he cast his spell but he didn’t? What was he supposed to do?

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t have sex again. He didn’t want to have sex again. He couldn’t go back into that room, but the room was right there, and they were walking right towards it, and he couldn’t - he couldn’t - he couldn’t -

Where was he?

Anders didn’t recognize the room. It looked like a reliquary mixed with a bedroom. All along the western walls were shelves, filled with magical artifacts, perfectly and precariously arranged to give each their own unique space. Stencils and rune tracings and etching agents, bottles of lyriums, ink, and kaddis, a handful of books and tomes. A summoning circle along with a font of power stood before them, with a two-sided desk opposite them. On the eastern side of the room was a canopy bed, a chest covered with wards at its feet and an armoire behind it. In the same corner, a couch and armchair arranged around a low table, with a liquor cabinet and humidor atop it.

Amell’s room.

… He’d changed it. Just a little. Dumat lay on the bed, and spared him a disinterested glance before going back to sleep. Amell was dressed for bed, loosely tied slacks with a looser long-sleeved tunic, and what looked to be a hastily tied blindfold. He waved him towards the couch.

“What did you want to talk about?” Amell asked.

Again? Why again? Why did Anders keep trying to talk to him? Why didn’t Anders remember that he kept trying to talk to him? What did he even want to talk about? Anders sat on a corner of the couch with one leg under him. Amell went to his liquor cabinet.

“I don’t know,” Anders admitted.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Amell asked.

“No,” Anders didn’t want to doubt himself more than he already did, and the thought that lotus might keep him from leaving Hawke again haunted him. “Is it okay if you don’t smoke?”

“... It’s okay,” Amell left the cabinet and the humidor atop it alone. He joined him on the couch, staring at him sightlessly. “... Is something wrong?”

Everything was wrong. Anders didn’t know how he got here. He didn’t know what was happening to him or how to make it stop. He didn’t know if Hawke was awake or asleep or looking for him and not knowing about Hawke was more terrifying than not knowing about himself. “I don’t know,” Anders said shakily. “... I don’t remember.”

“Don’t remember what?” Amell asked.

“What I’m doing here,” Anders said.

“You said you needed to talk to me,” Amell said. “... Justice said he needed to talk to me.”

“... He did?” Anders asked, staring at his hands, but no veilfire lit them. “... How do you know it was Justice?”

“... He feels different,” Amell said. “He feels like the Fade, and-...”

“And?”

“... And I think I can see him.”

“What do you mean you can see him?” All at once, Anders felt his fears forgotten. He scooted across the couch and reached for Amell, fingers inches from his brow, wondering what rights he had to touch him. “You mean you can see?”

“Not exactly,” Amell said. “I’ve met other people who lost their sight, but no one else had ever lost all of it. They still saw shadows, or shapes, or light, but I never did. There’s-... something, when he’s forward. I thought I was seeing things.”

“Haha,” Anders said flatly. “Be serious.”

“I am. There’s so much of the Fade in you, I wasn’t sure it was real. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

“What’s it like?”

“Like closing your eyes, after you look at a light, and for a moment you think you can still see it, only fainter and farther away.”

“That’s good, right?” Anders asked eagerly. His fingers hovered over Amell’s face, and while nothing was stopping him, he couldn’t quite bring himself to touch him without knowing if Amell wanted him to after everything that had happened. “This is weird, but can I touch your face?”

“If you want,” Amell said.

Anders cradled his face, fingers skirting his blindfold. “... Can I take this off?”

“... if you want,” Amell said.

Anders did want. Anders wanted very much. He reached behind Amell’s head and unraveled the hastily done knot to pull the blindfold free, and reveal… nothing. Closed eyes. Probably normal closed eyes, framed in dark shadows from one too many surgeries. Anders traced along one eyebrow with his thumb, watching the way his eyes moved, and decided they weren’t glass.

“... Can I see your eyes?”

“… I'd rather you didn't,” Amell said, a nervous shake in his voice that Anders swore he wouldn’t betray having put there. “I made a deal for them. After Avernus tried everything.”

“What kind of deal?” Anders asked.

“They'll work when I need them,” Amell explained. “They’ve never worked. I thought it was a bad joke, at first… but after a few months, I thought it was because I didn’t need them. I wasn’t sure in Kirkwall, and I wasn’t in a position to trust what I saw last night, but now-... I think I can see Justice, and I don’t know why.

“... Was that the deal? Am I supposed to see him for some reason?”

“He’s a spirit,” Anders guessed. “He’s connected to the Fade. Maybe that’s why you can see something?”

“Maybe,” Amell allotted. “But I can’t touch the Fade anymore. I haven’t for years without lyrium. I’d have to forsake blood magic to see anything in the Fade, but if I did, I wouldn’t be able to have some semblance of something close to sight here.”

Amell retrieved his blindfold, and tied it back around his eyes.

“... I could fix them,” Anders said. “I know the spell your father used. It takes a sacrifice, but I could fix them for you. I would fix them for you.”

“... I’d rather you didn’t.” Amell took his hand off his face and held it. “Thank you, for offering.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll work if I need them.”

“You really trust the demon you dealt with?”

“Do you trust Justice?”

“Justice isn’t a demon,” Anders said rather than answer.

He did trust Justice. He did, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t trust himself, and he didn’t trust the influence he had on Justice. There was no reason for Justice to want to talk to Amell that Anders could imagine ending well. Anders was engaged to Hawke, and there was nothing just in what he was doing with Amell, and Justice had to know that and had to want him to stop, but Anders didn’t want to stop doing anything with Amell, he wanted to stop doing things with Hawke.

“Do you know why he wants to talk to me?” Amell asked.

“... I need help.”

[writinginthesecrettrees]

Currently thinking about Dean and he’s starting to get worried because Sam is being sneaky again. Sneaky like when Ruby was around, sneaky like when he had Charlie and Rowena working on a cure, sneaky like he has a secret.

Like Dean isn’t supposed to notice Sam slamming his laptop shut every time Dean walks into a room, keeping him from seeing what Sam’s looking at. Or the way he locks the door in motel bathrooms, and Dean just knows he’s doing something on his phone but he can’t figure out what.

He tries asking about it - “Whatcha looking at? Is it porn?” - but Sam distracts him with a case, with a “Let’s go out to that place with the great burgers,” with a touch and that special dimpled smile and Dean’s big brain shuts off for a couple hours in the shower, in their bed, in the backseat of the Impala and when his brain turns on again he’s cursing himself for being so easy. And it’s bad, because they’d finally gotten to a place where they were being honest, where this thing between them felt kinda healthy instead of messed up, and now Sammy’s got a secret and Dean is worried about what it could be. 

So Dean gets sneaky too, and he doesn’t feel guilty. He tried the direct approach and it’s not that Sam’s not allowed to have secrets, or privacy, it’s that they both need to be honest. “Me time, not hunting related” is all Sam would have to say to get Dean to back off, but he’s not even admitting there is a secret and that always leads to badness. So Dean doesn’t feel bad about lying to Sam, doesn’t feel bad for getting Donna involved with a “Just need one o’ you boys, for two, three days,” doesn’t make silent promises about healthy food for a month and definitely doesn’t use Mr. Andrew Czerneda’s credit card to buy a couple rare books Sam’s been lusting after off eBay.

Dean almost backs down as he sneaks back into the bunker an hour after heading out, not entirely sure he wants to know what Sammy’s secret is, not entirely sure it isn’t that Sam is looking for something a bit more normal than hooking up with his big brother. He tries to talk himself out of it as he creeps down the hallway, tries to convince himself to head back out and make a lot of noise coming home, give Sam a chance to hide whatever he’s got going on.

He doesn’t do any of that, finds himself standing just outside of their room and listening to a muffled voice coming from inside. A muffled female voice, and Sam bringing some chick into their room is like a stab through the heart. Now he knows this much, he can’t turn back and pretend not to, so he pushes the door open and peeks in, braced for the worst.

Sees Sammy sitting with his back to the door and his laptop in front of him.

Sees a video playing on the computer, YouTube format, and as he watches the lovely girl on the screen holds something up to the camera, hand behind it for the autofocus, and Sam pauses the video to paw through a bunch of...

Makeup. Dean’s been around enough to know what makeup looks like, and Sammy’s got a decent collection of powders and glosses and pencils and brushes, Wet & Wild cheap but colorful. And Dean can’t help staring as Sam finds a compact with a pinky-brown square of pressed powder and swipes it onto his cheeks like the girl in the video just demonstrated.

Stands there, watching, as Sam resumes the video and keeps following the tutorial, until he finishes with a swipe of peachy gloss over his lips and Dean is aching to see the result and aching that Sam didn’t let him know about this and aching at having invaded Sam over what turned out to be a very harmless secret.

“First of all,” he starts and winces as Sam jumps in surprise, “I’m sorry. I’m snooping and I’m sorry.”

Sam doesn’t turn around, sits with his back to Dean and his shoulders hunched up and his posture breaking Dean’s heart.

“Secondly,” he walks into the room, stops short of the bed and just out of reach of Sam, “can I see? Please?”

“You’ll laugh,” Sam mumbles towards his lap.

“Nah, Sammy. Promise I won’t.” He stretches out a hand, almost brushes through Sam’s hair, lets his hand drop again.

Sam still doesn’t turn around. “I’m not trying to be girly. Guys wear makeup now.” His back straightens slightly. “It’s actually historical. Men used to wear makeup all the time. All the way up to the 19th century.” 

Dean smiles at that - of course Sam would geek out over the history of his new (or is it old?) interest. “Yeah they did. And there’s nothing wrong with a bit of guyliner.”

Sam snorts. “What do you know about guyliner?”

“I know I was told it made my eyes pop, back when you were at Stanford.”

“Are there pictures?”

“You wish.”

“I kinda do.”

“I kinda want to see you now.”

And just like that, Sam tenses up again.

“I’ll put on some eyeliner myself if it helps,” Dean tries, and he could swear he sees Sam’s cheeks round out with a smile.

“If you laugh...” Sam doesn’t wait for Dean to answer, just turns around. His brows are drawn together, and he’s chewing on his lip, and his eyes are searching Dean’s face for any hint of amusement.

Laughing is the last thing on Dean’s mind. He gazes at Sam, takes in the carefully groomed brows and subtle gold shimmer over his eyelids. Lingers on the lightly smudged brown liner that makes his eyes wider and brings out warm tones in the multicolored irises, emphasized by dense mascaraed lashes. A hint of bronzer and subtle blush make Sam look like he spends his days in the sun and make Dean swear to find a hunt near a warm beach sometime soon. The gloss on his lips draws Dean’s eyes and he lingers there, wonders if it tastes as sweet as it looks or if Sam chose a non-flavored product, wants to lick every speck of it off just so he can watch Sam reapply it and keep the taste on his own lips.

Overall, it could look feminine, but Sam’s clearly had some practice, managed to take the YouTube girl’s look and turn it into something ethereally masculine with a play on the angles of his face.

Sam fidgets under his stare, fidgets more the longer the silence stretches out between them. Finally, he bursts out “well, say something, jerk!”

Dean can’t make himself give the expected answer, falls to his knees at Sam’s feet and lays his hands on Sam’s thighs, never takes his eyes from Sam’s face.

“You know you’re always beautiful, Sammy. The decoration just makes you prettier.”

He leans in for a kiss, thinks briefly that if they could capture the flushed color of Sam’s pleased blush they could make a fortune, savors the sugar-sweet taste of slippery gloss, and then doesn’t think anything at all.

[poiwritesnstuff]

Raksha Bandan

[In which Satya celebrates a holiday with one of the Overwatch crew.]

Jamison sat in the workroom of the Overwatch headquarters, perfectly calm except for the restless shaking of his leg under the table. In his hands was a fizzed out bomb shell, and while he’d had an idea of what he wanted to do with it an hour ago, he couldn’t recall what that idea was anymore.

His mind was still stuck on the night before, when he’d bumped into Satya making something in the kitchen. It wasn’t a routine, but it’d happened enough that he'd come to expect a hot drink before bed if he needed it. Apparently not this time, though. Rather than sit with him for a cup of tea, as they were wont to do, she’d shooed him out with a flapping of her hands and told him to shower in the morning.

He’d protested at that, citing that he’d got up to four times a week now and he didn’t smell bad enough to put any of the smelly gunk in his pits, but she rolled her eyes and told him it was for a special occasion. He didn’t mind that so much, and, after a quick sniff in the privacy of the hallway, decided that a shower wouldn’t go amiss. Not if Satya’d had something in mind for him.

He couldn’t stop chewing on what it might be that she was planning. Did it have to do with what she was cooking last night? Was she trying to cook for him? Maybe they’d go on a picnic, find some scrap of land nearby with grass or even a tree and shoot the shit and eat, and she’d lean up real close to him to offer him the last bite of their brekkie and look up at him with those big old doe eyes of hers and tell him that she’d been waiting for a moment alone with him…

Roadie had kicked him out of his room at that point for going on so long, so he happily continued on this train of thought until he passed out in his bed and continued on into the morning. He’d showered and even put on a shirt that morning, though he’d had no idea what they were going to do that day. But it had been three hours since then, and Jamison’s stomach was rumbling since he’d foregone any real breakfast. Where the hell was she? Weren’t they going to get this show on the road?

His leg jolted up a little too high and directly into the underside of the metal table. Junkrat let out a howl and bolted out of his seat, nearly toppling over as he clutched at his knee in pain. The door to the workshop hissed open and he turned around as quick as he could, ignoring the twinge of pain in his leg as he grinned.

“Jamison?” Satya stood there in a deep red sari, holding a small plate with some unidentifiable circles on it. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy!” He glanced over her, first appreciatively and then in confusion. “Where’s the esky?”

“Esky?” Satya repeated. “I don’t know what that is. I’ve come to wish you a happy Raksha Bandan.”

“Oh? That an Indian thing?” He asked, watching as she came closer. “What’s all this?”

“First, the rakhi. Your hand, please?”

He stuck it out for her, watching her as she put the plate down and picked up a thread from it. She pulled it around his wrist, turned his hand over, and tied a tight knot in it.

“Pretty neat, darl,” he said, turning his hand over to look at what she’d tied to his wrist. The medallion was the telltale shimmering color of her hard light, with a bright yellow thread holding it to his wrist. He looked more closely at the medallion and found that his signature smiley face was etched into it. “I like it.”

Satya beamed at him. “Next is the sweet. Here, have it.” She picked up a small light brown disc from the plate and offered it to him as she explained what the holiday was. 

Instead of taking it from her, he bit into it as she held it, grinning ear to ear. Was this what she’d made yesterday, and all for little ol’ him? It was sweet and dense, and he could have sworn it was melting on his-- “What was that?”

“I said that this should be on your right hand, actually, but I did not think it would stay for very long on your prosthetic.”

“No, the, er, bit before that. Did you say brothers?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “The holiday is meant to strengthen and renew the bond between a brother and sister. It is a symbol of the sister praying for her brother’s health and happiness, and the brother promising to protect and look after her. Vishkar did not see the need for their recruits to celebrate it, so we never did, but I’ve always liked the idea of it.”

Jamison had nearly spat out the sweet in his surprise, but thought the better of wasting good food and swallowed it hurriedly. “This is, er, real sweet and all, Satya, but you realize we’re not brother ‘n sister, yeah?”

“Of course not,” she laughed. “The ceremony isn’t only done between blood siblings. To tell the truth, I decided to celebrate it this year because I felt… well, I felt that I had someone close enough to me to give a rakhi to. Vishkar took care of me, but we were never exactly a family, and I lost touch with my real family after they took me in. This group, it is different here.”

Jamison couldn’t find fault with that. “Suppose this means you’re stuck with me, since I gotta look after you and all.”

“You also owe me money.”

“What.”

Satya giggled low in her throat, something mischievous and cunning, and he was annoyed at how much he enjoyed it. “It’s another part of the holiday. I give you a rakhi and sweets and you give me money.”

“Oi! I didn’t sign up for that! Protection my arse, you’re an extortionist!”

They continued like this all the way to the briefing they had to attend for their next mission, after which Jamison was shocked and dismayed to find that Roadhog had also earned himself a thread with a cute little pig face etched into the medallion. He kept up the fuss and refused to speak to Roadhog until he forgot about it, and they continued on like this until they went to bed.

In another part of their quarters, just as Satya was getting ready for bed, she heard a knock at the door and opened it to find Jamison holding out a small blue bomb. “Evening,” he said, taking the opportunity to gaze up and down her nightgown. “Bomb shell for a bombshell?”

Satya blushed but rolled her eyes all the same and took it gingerly. “It’s not live, is it?”

“See for yourself!”

Satya gingerly turned it over in her hands and traced her thumb over the smile he placed on all of his munitions, smiling in response herself until she felt something click under her thumb. She yelped as it gave a loud pop and Jamison nearly dove for it to keep it from falling.

“Oi! Mind the goods, Sat!”

“You know I dislike loud noises!” She snapped, though she was thankfully able to calm herself with some careful deep breaths and a sheepish silence from her companion. “Please don’t tell me that’s all--”

“No,” he said, admonished but adamant as he continued to hold the small bomb out to her. Satya took it carefully and opened the sphere to find a small statue of Ganesha inside.

A statue of Ganesha made of ivory and studded with small rubies and diamonds at the base.

“Jamison--”

“Look, I know you feel ways about things ‘n all and theivin’ ain’t up high on your list of approved activities, but I’ve had that in my stash for a while ‘n the bastard I nicked it from didn’t do nothin’ with it ‘n then you pulled this whole brother day thing on me ‘n I reckon if we’re family then maybe it’s okay t’ share things ‘n besides, ‘m not gonna do nothin’ with that but maybe you will since it’s one-a your gods n’ all and it deserves to go to someone who can appreciate it s’all--”

“Thank you,” Satya said. She was not quite equal to looking him in the eye, but she held his hand in hers and kept her gaze just beyond his cheek. “It’s beautiful, and I appreciate it. You didn’t need to give me something so precious. The money is a token to show that you will take care of someone. Such a gift…”

“Well… I haven’t had one before, but feels like a family’s fair precious, too. And I reckon if you’re sure about havin’ me in yours, well. Makes… makes you p--” Jamison, who until that point had been uncharacteristically still, suddenly vibrated with mischief again. “Reckon I oughta show you just what you’re signin’ up for, Sat! Tick tock tick tock!”

He reached out and mussed up her hair before launching himself down the hallway, his cackling echoing in the hallway as he ran off.

Satya reached up, smoothing down her hair as she tried to control the frustration rising in her. He didn’t always purposefully rile her up, as he was clearly trying to do now. Sometimes it was just the chaos of his general existence that made her feel overwhelmed, all loud and bright and hot and demanding without meaning to be. But at other times, it was just enough, or he was calmer, or there was a moment where they were together and she felt like she was laying in the sun on a warm summer’s day whenever he cracked a joke or got excited over new tech.

It was what drove her to finally celebrate Raksha Bandan, after all. That warmth, the light and happy bubbles in her chest when she was with him and Roadhog, she thought it must be what family felt like. A unit of individuals that fit together, that did not see profits or obligations in helping one another any more than an arm sees an injured leg as a burden. 

And sometimes, when Jamison looked at her and flashed her that wide smile, gold glinting in the light, Satya thought he might be the beating heart at the center of the being.