#with a ribbon to replace the braids and break up the space

[jaxyys]

With Elden Ring DLC on the horizon, I decided to give my Tarnished, Ruben, a Season 2 visual update.

[nesta-is-my-queen]

Mini fanfic I wrote of Mama Archeron’s origin story. About a secret hidden deep in her bones, carried in her soul.

A price paid with her name, her blood, and her daughters.

—

Trigger warning: caesarean section, blood, and medical trauma

***

Aradia Archeron knew she was dying. Rotting away from some wretched human plague that eroded her mortal body. Typhus the healer had said, before scuttling away, a rag pressed tightly over her mouth. It was the same sickness that brought the realm to it’s knees and turned once sprawling cities into graveyards.

Her death had been foretold to her on a night as dark and grim as this one. She thought then too she would die. But a voice inside her, one gentle and kind, said, “not yet, not yet.” So she pushed and pushed, blood spilling out of her.

Nesta had slipped out of her, graceful as a dancer, Elain had been birthed gentle and quiet as a fawn. But this one, this one was undoing, the one that would break her. This one was clawing her way out of the womb as if angry at being held in captivity for nine months. Unlike the first two, this one was the daughter that would finally end everything for her.

The corners of the room darkened and she felt the room spinning. The ripping pain between her legs began to fade. “Not yet, not yet.” The voice urged. But she was so tired, and her eyes were so heavy from the weight of it all, so she succumbed to the darkness as the midwife began to cut.

“Aradia.” Who was calling her voice?

“Aradia.” They sounded so insistent. But what could be so important when she was drifting off into the embrace of her subconscious.

“Aradia! Listen to me!” The voice pressed on. Gone was the gentleness, the sweetness, replaced by a voice made of iron and shields, that pierced through the darkness like an arrow.

“Aradia it is time to pay the price.” After all these years, she had thought—no wished—that the promise wasn’t real. The bargain—no the curse—was part of some distant nightmare.

Her mother had always told her she was destined for greatness. That it was in her blood. That her ancestors hailed from a fae-human king and witch queen from another era. Another world.

At first she didn’t believe her. She refused to listen to such nonsense. She would leave such fairytales for the children of the blessed. She had always considered herself clever enough to spot lies.

But then she began to see things and hear things that had her caught between pockets of space and time. She had seen a vision of three fae females, each one more beautiful and cunning than the other. A vision of a city cloaked in starlight. A castle wreathed in roses and a pool that looked as if it were made up of the stars in the sky. She thought she was going mad. So she went to find the only people with whom she might acquire answers, the insipid wretches themselves—the children of the blessed.

The woman before her was draped in gauzy blue robes, bedecked in silver bangles that chimed as she walked. She arranged her face in a way that made her look both virtuous and pious. She was exactly the type of woman Aradia hated.

“What brings you here child?” The woman said, her voice low and shushed as if in constant prayer.

“I need to see the fae.” She demanded. She wondered if she looked insane. Her hair was a mess, she hadn’t bothered to braid it or bathe in days. Her clothes were sweaty and damp. Her family had once been wealthy and respected, but their blue blood only got them so far. They had lost their money, squandered it on trying to keep up with high society, but did not have the acumen to retain their small fortune. All that remained was the family estate, to be fought over by her siblings and uncles, and an acre of ironwood trees.

It was her mother’s wish for her to marry well, so she had introduced her to society at the young age of sixteen, hoping to ensnare a Duke or a Prince with her beauty. No such thing had happened. They had seen right through her and her out-of-season gowns, her satin—not silk—ribbons, her lack of jewels, and her hair plaited into a simple coronet, not an elaborate spiralling concoction like the ladies of the court wore. She had never felt so exposed—so lost. She promised herself she would never be humiliated like that again. And now here she was, dressed in unwashed rags, looking half crazed, begging for help from the children of the blessed. How the mighty have fallen she mused to herself.

“We do not allow just anyone to see the fae.” The priestess before her said, her voice ringing like chimes in the wind.

“I have money.” Aradia said, handing the woman a fistful of coins.

“The fae have no need for your mortal money.” She replied, imperious and graceful all at once.

“Then tell me—tell me what to do.” She pleaded.

—

Aradia didn’t know where she was. The priestess had blindfolded her and brought her to an ancient sanctuary. The building was made of carved stone, with statues of ancient gods long forgotten. Glittering whirls and markings littered the ceiling, giving the appearance of stars trapped in stone.

Rows and rows of acolytes were lying prostrate on the ground, in silent prayer. Before them stood a fae female, imperious and beautiful as the ones she had seen in her visions. She was tall and slender, her blonde hair fell in waves, framing her angular face that looked as if it too was carved of stone. Her eyes were a piercing blue that looked as if they could see her very soul.

“It has been an age since I have seen one of your kind.” The female breathed.

“Who are you?” Aradia said, meeting that females gaze. She would not allow herself to be intimidated or shamed by the likes of the children of the blessed—let alone the fae.

“I am high priestess of Vallahan, but you child—you may call me Ianthe.” She said, her voice resounding through the cave, even though she remained unnaturally still.

”Tell me child what is it your heart desires most.”

She paused for a second, reflecting on all she could ask for and all she knew of the fae and their wicked ways. Riches could come and go, beauty was fleeting. She wanted legacy—true and lasting power. Something that would carry weight, something even a fae priestess could not twist and turn against her.

”Greatness.” She whispered. “Greatness.”

—

The rest of the night was blur. She barely remembered all the sweet promises and lovely words the priestess has bestowed upon her. She had expected treachery, not kindness, from someone like Ianthe. Instead she received blessings of good fortune, healthy children, and a handsome husband. All in exchange for a drop of her blood.

Her blood.

Ianthe had slit her palm with an iron dagger and she watched her blood trickle down, filling the silver chalice Ianthe was clutching. Her blood swirled and bubbled until it turned blue.

The air around them thickened. The burnt offering and spices stung her nose. It was stifling and hot, so close to the flame lit upon the stone alter.

“The iron brings out what is carried in your blood. A bloodline so old I had long thought it lost to history.” Ianthe murmured as she dumped the contents into the fire. As soon as her blood, her life force, touched it, the flames turned silver. The high priestess’s eyes rolled back as they burned with that same sterling fire, her jaw hanging slack, her mouth agape as a voice that was not hers rang out.

“You shall have three daughters, an heir, a spare, and a sacrifice.” The voice told her.

She felt the blood rushing from her face, the thought of one of her daughters destined to be a sacrifice, like some lamb to the slaughter.

“No—not my daughter. Anything but my daughter.” She cried out.

“Child—it is already written in the stars.” The voice crooned.

“You need not worry child. The mother shall take care of her. Shall take care of all of her children.”

The silver fire seemed to grow and stretch, enveloping both of them in flame and plunging them both into an icy darkness that could only be described as a an endless void. She thought she was dying as her veins turned to ice. As a cold so bitter and a darkness so deep swallowed her. Was this death? Was this the end?

The voice made of swords and shields scraped against her mind, “we will return for what is ours. What is owed to us.”

Then everything came rushing back all at once as everything around her came into focus. And that horrible silver fire and endless void was gone.

Ianthe blinked. Her eyes now a deep shade of cerulean, radiant and cruel all at once as she gathered herself. “Come now.” She drawled as she swished past Aradia, as she placed a golden amulet in her palm. “This belongs to you.”

“Your eldest shall be queen, the spare shall be a beauty, and the youngest, a sacrifice and saviour of all.”

Then she had the children of the blessed drape her in silver jewellery and fine silk robes. “You must be given a queens farewell.” Ianthe said, in that clairvoyant voice, offering the smallest slivers of kindness. Kindness that Aradia seldom received. So she did not know that this—that this was far from kindness.

This was a curse. Her undoing.

“But what about my visions?” She asked, voice quiet.

“Let the iron mingle with your blood and they will cease to happen. The dagger is yours to keep.”

—

She had all but forgotten the prophecy and the visions. Cutting herself with the iron dagger had become a small mercy for her. It was like a drug she became addicted to. Years had passed since she had a vision and she seldom needed the blade, but there was something hypnotizing in watching her red blood bloom across her pale skin and then turn into blue rivulets. There something beautiful about the pain she felt, when she was so used to feeling nothing at all.

But now—now she could not make the pain go away. As she soaked her birthing bed in blood. Red blood. Her dagger nowhere to be seen. She was going to die. This would be her end. Just another woman dying while birthing a new life.

She screamed and screamed until she had nothing but a raw burning in her throat left. The midwife already cut her open to get the babe out of her stomach. The child came out silent and limp, she heard someone mutter, “too late.” While she lay there struggling to breathe, slipping in and out of darkness.

She felt herself being pulled, as if her very soul was being sucked out from her body. The room beneath began to wane, as if she was an observer looking down from the heavens.

“It is time to give us what is owed” a voice thundered, it was that same voice of steel and swords that she had heard all those years ago.

“What is it you want?” She whispered, barely able to get the words out.

“The girl.”

“No! Let her live!” She pleaded, desperate for a sign of life, for the kicking and punching she had felt throughout her pregnancy, for the fire that had burned through her during her labour.

“What would you give us in exchange?” The voice scraped at her mind, as if made of knives, slowly cleaving her consciousness.

“Anything.”

The half formed glittering figure seemed to balk, as if weighing her words. “Long ago, your ancestors promised us a sacrifice. A life in payment for their sins. The price was their name—their life.” The glittering figure paused. Blinking. As if assessing her target—her prey. “Will you pay the price? Give us what is owed?”

“Yes.” The words tumbled from her pale lips. Quiet and muffled, for the effort to speak was too great at this point. The stuffy room seemed to swallow her and the form of the midwife seemed to blur and stretch before everything turned completely dark.

“Yes.” She repeated. Unsure if the voice heard her.

“Say it. Say your name. To seal your fate.”

“Aradia Archeron?”

“Not your married name. But your true name. The one that runs through your blood. The one that cursed and condemned us. The one that broke its promise to us all those years ago. We have not forgotten… And in time, you too shall pay the ultimate price. And so shall those who carry it in their bones—with iron and blood. But not yet. Not yet.”

“Aradia Havalliard.” She whispered, weak and desperate, clawing to the last clutches of life, as even her breathing became rattled and heavy.

“It’sss a bargain. Daughter of no one. Heir of bastards. Mother of the sacrifice.” The voice stated. Aradia could have sworn she heard the faint sound of laughter coming from the figure, but it sounded like swords clashing against eachother.

Suddenly she was hurtling back and her pain was gone. All except for a burning feeling that spread across her right palm, as the form of a golden arrow singed itself into her skin, directly over where the iron blade had cut her all those years ago.

A wail broke through the silence as the blood soaked sheets were hastily stripped and replaced with new ones. Somehow the bleeding had stopped and the midwife muttered something about a miracle. A fat, crying babe was shoved in her arms, kicking and punching at the air.

”What is her name?”

She looked down at that perfect form held against her bosom, hoping that it was all some horrible dream, a terrible nightmare she would soon forget.

“Feyre.” Her saviour. Her sacrifice. Her undoing.

[parkerlyn]

ROs reactions to the MC going up to them and bowing, hand outstretched, saying "May I have this dance?"

💃🏻🕺🏽🎵🎶 yeeeessss I am soft for dancing!! (sorry this took forEVER it uhhh spiraled into 2k words haha. ROs names are colored for separated drabbles!)

Thank you for the asks! ❤️❤️

*At [insert event here] that involves dancing*

The Healer:

Their face has been lit by the swirling orbits of the dancers in front of the two of you, a slack-jawed awe frozen on their face as they watch the footwork of the closest couple. 

Which is why when you turn and ask them to dance, their expression throws you off kilter. Instead of the enthusiasm you were expecting, a chill falls over the air between you as their face morphs into...fear?

"Oh, uh-" The Healer seems to have dropped their confidence on the ground, by the way their eyes search it. "I'm alright really, I'd rather be a bystander."

"Really?” Your incredulous response brings back the light in their face for just a moment. “You?" 

"I'm..." They search the ceiling and the draped pillars now before muttering, "Imnotverygoodatdancingyoushouldreallydancewithsomeoneelse."

You blink. "Sorry, want to say that again?"

A sigh passes through their lips while they pull idly at their ear. "I'm...a little clumsy at these sorts of dances. Can never get all the steps in the right order."

Your face breaks into a soft sympathy and they can't help theirs relaxing in response. Still, you hold your hand out with resolution.

"We don't have to do the fancy steps, it's enough just to dance with you."

Reflections of you are clearer in their gold irises as their eyes widen, the smile spreading in turn. Finally, they take your hand.

"You do remember I literally crashed into you the first time we met, right?" At your expectant stare, they laugh. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

With that settled you lead them forward, feeling just the slightest bit of nervous resistance that melts away when you give a quick squeeze. You guide them to the corner of the dance floor away from focus, before turning and tentatively placing a hand on the luscious sash and decorated fabric draping over their shoulder, the other resting in their elevated hand. 

The Healer keeps their gaze locked to yours, uncertain what to do next and finding anchor in your eyes. Deliberately, steadily, you begin to rock to the right, then to the left, swaying your bodies in a gentle rhythm. Their eyes dart once with self-consciousness at the couples around you, before the movement hooks their focus back. Face transitioning into something more at ease, you feel them start to move with you instead of being moved by you.

The smile that illuminates their face practically jumps to yours, and they bring the hand they’re holding to press against their chest. Rumbling bliss echoes against your skin, their heart leaping to meet your palm at each beat.

“See?” you whisper. “You can dance just fine.”

They press their forehead against yours, eyes barely open. 

“Only because it’s with you.”

Oisein:

“Well, hello there.”

The sultry voice comes from your left as Oisein slides into your space. Though they’re wearing their mortalis glamour, the amount of embroidery on their clothes and the delicate jewelry adorning their ears, neck, and arms still gives them an ethereal sheevra-likeness that hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“What’s a gorgeous thing like you doing all alone?” Their eyes narrow, lip turning with a clearly mischievous intent. “Bored by all these stuffy mortalis?”

“Oisein!”

Grinning with no remorse, their lavender eyes cast back to the dancing crowd, the glints of light off their accessories casting shifting reflections on the columns around you.

“We do throw better parties though, you have to admit,” they murmur.

“Maybe... Though I’m not sure the last Equinox counts as a party so much as a...rampage? A riot?”

“What’s a party without a little chaos?”

The two of you laugh quietly enough to seem polite to those around you, almost in mockery of the mortalis niceties. 

As the laughter ebbs away, you just catch the slight shift of weight from one of their legs to another as Oisein fumbles with bracelets along their wrists. It’s clear what their real reason is for shadowing you recently, and you suppose you’ve played hard-to-get long enough.

With a flourish worthy of Oisein’s dramatics, you give a bow as the instruments and Soundweavers begin the next song. 

“May I have this dance?”

You're not sure what happens first, you finishing the question or Oisein grabbing you by both hands and hastily backing up onto the dance floor.

"Finally! I thought you'd never ask!"

"What, you couldn't ask me either?" You tease while they hold one of your hands up and lift your other arm on top of theirs, their palm gently pressing against your back between your shoulders.

"When have I ever made anything easy?"

The smirk is there for an instant before it thaws into something warm and affectionate, and the two of you begin to revolve around each other across the smooth floor. 

Colors swirl like a kaleidoscope as you keep your eyes fixed on them. The lavender, the golden blond, the emeralds and sapphires glittering while resting on their tanned and freckled neck. Compared to the pairs around you Oisein flows as naturally a part of the music as the notes themselves, your movements merging into a harmony between your bodies. 

Your view changes as Oisein dips you backward, your waist nestled and secured in the crook of their arm before they roll your torso back up against them. A low hum of delighted magic reverberates from their chest through yours when you’re fully upright again, and you can just hear them begin to sing with the melody enveloping you. 

Leaning into Oisein as far as you can without disrupting your dance, you catch the small hitch in breath before they reach a warm, steady hand to cradle your neck, saccharine voice continuing a private concert for your ears alone.

The Sage:

Even from a distance, you can see the Sage’s strained smile. To the dignitaries and figureheads around them, it must seem polite, polished, immaculate. But you recognize the tired creases at their eyes and the tightness of their hands, the anxious habit as their fingers brush the braids against their back.

They turn to face someone else, the soft yellow ribbon that usually holds their hair replaced by a brilliant golden clasp that glints against your eyes. It reflects once more as they give a seasoned nod and a bow of acknowledgement, before excusing themselves. 

You smile as you watch them search the crowd for respite, tense politeness loosening into adoring relief when their eyes catch yours. The smile tugs further at your mouth and you give a wave.

“I’m so sorry,” they exhale out as they come to your side. “I thought the conversation with the Ambassador would be much shorter, but I really should’ve foreseen the...” They search around you to make sure no one can overhear them. “-bragging and oversharing that he’s wont to do.”

“Were they at least fun stories, though?”

“Depends on your definition,” they whisper back, trying to control the smirk threatening to spread. “But I know for sure the ‘legendary beast’ he described fishing for off the coast of Han is a creature he stole from his daughter’s imagination.”

“Plagiarising children? Can the mortalis sink any lower?”

“You-!” The Sage tries to wave your words away, turning to make sure no one heard you but beaming with a conspiratorial excitement. You laugh at the reaction, and they cover their mouth to stop from releasing a laugh to match.

“Well,” you continue. “Do you think the Gold Sage might have a chance for a break with a commoner like me?”

With your question, they finally let the laugh loose and bring the base of their palm against the bottom of their eyes, the usual golden swoops under them painted further out and twisting into delicate, intricate patterns over their warm skin.

“I’d hardly consider you ‘common’,” they chide, eyes half-lidded. “But what did you have in mind?”

You hear the music crescendo, before putting on your best impression of a stuffy official, with an equally stiff bow and rigid arm outstretched.

“My dear Sage,” you begin with voice pitched in imitation. They snort at the caricature. “Would you give me the honor of a dance?”

“There's nothing else I’d rather do," they say with a more genuine response, reversing your hand to place a kiss on your fingers before they let you lead them to the dance floor.

Their fingers spread against your palm when you come to an open space, and they frame your body with theirs. A lilting waltz begins and their steps start to move like clockwork, precise and smooth, pulling you into the tides of golden fabric rippling at their waist.

Vivid, lively hazel watches your face, searching over your features with admiration while your feet glide beneath you. Any view of the other mortalis or the ballroom or the band blurs into the background, your eyes caught and tangled in the glow of their unbridled joy.

“...Think we could turn this into more than just a break?” they ask gently as you continue to revolve.

“I’d be happy to help you avoid the Ambassador for as long as possible, yes.”

“Perfect.”

The Magesmith:

You're not sure what you were expecting. Maybe not as much bluntness when you asked them to dance? But still, the crossed arms and resounding "No," stings a bit more than anticipated.

They shift awkwardly at your hurt expression as you draw your hand back, distracting themself by pulling at the tight, velvety dressclothes the Sage shoved in their face just hours before.

"It's not you," they continue softly, almost apologetically. "Just not a huge fan of crowds...and dancing."

“Right, of course," you trail off. You understand, really, but the rejection still burns in your core and in your cheeks.

Neither of you are fully sure where the conversation is supposed to go from here, and small talk has never been the Magesmith's strong suit. When you look up again though, you catch them click their tongue while exploring the area with their eyes.

"Come with me for a second." And now it's their hand waiting for yours.

Skeptical, you still take it, and there's a sweet tenderness as they close their heated fingers around yours and weave the two of you through the crowds to the outer rims of the party. Just beyond the last line of revelers, you see a curtain barely separated to show the balcony hiding behind it, hardly visible past the reflection of the gaudy scene you’re currently caught in.

The Magesmith releases your hand and presses their face against the glass with no regard for your surroundings, before nodding and turning to you.

"Here," they state, as if that's all the explanation they need to give. They press through the door anyway, beckoning you to follow.

Slight humidity hangs in the air outside, both warmth and chill prickling over your skin. In some wild turn of luck, the balcony is empty save for the two of you, and the Magesmith holds out their brass arm as the melody from inside trickles outward in muted cadences.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," you finally say into the silence.

"No, I-" They clench their fingers before relaxing them again. Brown eyes melt into their gentle admission.

"I want to," they breathe out. "Of course I want to."

They continue to stare into you until all you can do is believe them, and your hand moves without thought. When you do connect, a small noise escapes you at how confidently they pull you forward, and how smoothly their arm flows around you. There's a practiced step to the side as they move you to their hip, before unfurling you out and around, and closing back in so you’re facing them.

They're...good at dancing.

Your feet step in time with theirs as they rock backward, to the side, on the balls of their feet as they rotate you under their arm while keeping your hands connected. In some unfamiliar array of movements, your hand drops from one of theirs, sliding across their collar to the other with another soft spin.

Really good.

"Are you kidding me?" You practically hiss. They just snicker low in response, their lips now close to your ear as they pull you flush against them.

"Please don't tell anyone, it'll ruin my reputation."

The laughter that cascades from your mouth is bright enough to put the stars to shame.

[ignitedbynatsu]

Apple Juice or Beer?

A/N: @pro-crastinator14 I hope you like it!! Thank you so much again for requesting! On another note, did I start writing this as soon as I got it to procrastinate on the Freed version of HMYFI? Pssht, no.... I have kind of the idea of what I want to write, but I can’t find the right way to start it yet 🤔 Anyway I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather lately so I don’t know when it will be up, sorry 😟

Warnings: accidental under aged drinking, fighting

Genre: a bit of fluff and a bit of angst

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

"(Y/N)" Natsu whined as you were braiding your child's hair, finishing it off with a red ribbon at the end.

"What is it, love?" You hummed as you opened a bobby pin with your teeth to pull some stray hairs from the little girl's face.

"Can you help me train? I've been trying to get my punch to become more powerful but no matter what I do, it doesn't seem to work" he stuck his bottom lip out as he hugged you from behind.

"I can't, who will look after Nala if I'm busy with you?" You denied his request, turning in his embrace to give him a quick peck on his lips. You could see the gears in his mind spinning, but stopped him before he could speak "No, I'm not gonna let her stay with Cana. I love the girl, but I don't want her to accidentally switch Nala's apple juice with beer again"

"It was one time!" Cana called out from a few tables further.

"That's one time too much!" you stuck your tongue out at her in a playful manner.

"Well, then why don't we take the little devil with us? We'll make it like a sort of family trip" Natsu suggested as he picked up his child and tickled her side, resulting in a fit of giggles coming from the little girl.

You smiled at the little interaction in front of you "alright"

The three of you and Happy left shortly after. Nala was placed in Natsu's shoulder. Eyes wide open as she kept pointing at random stuff "I want that, mommy can I have that?"

"Aye sir- wait" you giggled at the Exceed that was being held by you, ruffling his head in the process.

"No, you can't have the bunny." Nala pouted at you dismissing her request "Besides, we already have Happy"

"We're here" Natsu announced, eyes growing wide with excitement as he took in the wide open space in front of him.

He placed Nalu down and ran around to scan the area.

"You think it's big enough?" You called out to him as you took a blanket out of your bag where Nala and Happy could be seated while you and Natsu trained.

"Definitely" he replied as he waited for you to get in your fighting stance.

Once you were sure your child and Happy had everything they needed, you positioned yourself a couple of feet away from your husband.

"Ready?" You asked as a smirk was playfully playing on your lips. You missed the adrenaline rush you felt when you were fighting delinquents. The way the blood rushed through your cheeks while your heart was beating against your rib cage at a higher speed than what one would call normal. Don't get me wrong, nothing could beat the happiness your child brought you. It was just an old passion that you couldn't practice as often as you once did.

"I'm all fired up" he mimicked your smirk before charging at you.

You blocked his flow with a sand wall, which he used as a stepping stone as he hurled himself at you. You rolled away right before his fire ignited fist could make contact with you.

You took the opportunity once Natsu's fist connected with the ground to lock him in place, sand wrapping around his limb to prevent him from moving.

You jumped up, ready to hit him with the heel of your foot, but he was quicker. He broke himself free from your sand prison and used that memento to hit you. You felt the warmth of his flames lick your soft skin as he missed you by just a hair.

"Daddy! Daddy! Stop! Don't hurt mommy!" You could hear your child cry as she got up from her place underneath a tree to run towards the place you and Natsu were standing, breathing heavily.

Nalu had finally made it to the two of you and tugged at her father's pants in an attempt to stop him "don't hurt mommy"

As you heard the soft sniffles of your daughter, both you and Natsu's head snapped in her direction, alerted at the sound of her crying.

It was difficult to hear what the upset child was saying through her hiccups as tears kept spilling out her eyes, but you heard it just fine.

You picked her up, and as soon as you placed her on your hip, she clung to you like you could disappear any second if she were to let go. Her soft wailing breaking both Natsu and your heart as you did your best to comfort your daughter "baby what's wrong?"

"Daddy nearly burned you" she managed to get out in between sobs. Your eyes flicker to Natsu, worry written all over your face "I don't want you to get hurt, mommy"

The loud sobs had died down and had been replaced by soft sniffs. Her tear-stained cheeks were still damp, but no new tears were falling.

"I'm fine, baby." you reassured Nalu as you tried to get her to lift her head, so she could look at you "mommy is completely fine. Daddy would never do anything to hurt mommy. I promise you"

"We were just training, princess. I would never hurt your mommy" Natsu said as he gently stroked your daughter's hair before making a small flame appears in his hand "look, I have complete control over my fire"

Nalu instinctively flinched away at the sight of the flame so close to her. The frown on Natsu's face deepened as he noticed the small movement of his daughter. Was she scared of him?

"Nalu, baby, what's wrong?" Natsu asked as he crouched down a little, so he was now on eye-level with his child.

"I see you and uncle Gray breaking stuff in the Guild when you fight. I just don't want mommy to get hurt like you hurt uncle Gray when you fight" she mumbled as her head was laying against your chest while looking at Natsu, her hands still grasping you tightly.

"I would never treat mommy the way I treat uncle Gray. I love your mommy very much, and I promise to not fight her with my fire again, will that make you happy?" Natsu suggested to which she nodded her head as she sucked on her thumb.

Her grip finally started to lose as you felt her get heavier too. The intensity of the situation had drained her of her energy. Natsu's reassuring words put her mind at ease, resulting in her letting sleep take over her body.

You carefully gave Nalu to Natsu as you picked up the blanket. "Let's go home, I think we could all use a nap"

"She's scared of my fire" Natsu mumbled, a heavy sadness lingering in his voice as he looked down at his daughter that was cuddled in his arms.

You hugged him from behind as you gave a kiss on his left shoulder blade "she'll come around. Once she fully understands the concept of magic, she'll see there is nothing to worry about. Maybe go a bit easier on Gray next time or at least have your brawls when she's not around."

"I was planning on doing so, but I can't make promises for that bastard" he stated as the two of you walked back to the guild. "Anyway, do you now agree that my first option was the best?"

"I will not let my daughter drink beer again!"

[jootjootscrazyadventure]

Story Swap: DILF Joot

@the-writing-dump-bin and I did another story swap. I hope this is alright. Please go read her story and follow her! She’s a lovely writer.

NSFW

I head over to my usual baby sitting job. I work for this tall man who dresses in a long, white coat and hat. He doesn't talk much. I watch his daughter about every weekend. I love little Jolyne. She has so much energy. I often braid her hair and put it into small space buns.

I knock on Dr. Kujo's door and wait. Moments later, he opens it, shirtless. My eyes widen and I feel a burning sensation on my cheeks. I follow him into the house. It seems he's busy getting ready for something special. Usually, I watch Jolyne because Dr. Kujo has to go out of town to his divorce hearings and talk with lawyers. I feel bad for him. I wonder why he's getting divorced? Anyway, I noticed he was dressed differently tonight.

"Big plans tonight, Dr. Kujo?" I asked.

"I have a date tonight." For some reason, my heart dropped to my stomach. A date? I mean it's good seeing him get out on the dating scene again. But, why did I care so much? This man is almost twice my age. I shake my head of thought and prepare Jolyne's dinner. I watch Dr. Kujo finish getting ready, spraying on cologne, slicking his hair back.

"Do I look okay?" He asked me. I looked him up and down. He looked wonderful. My stomach filled with butterflies. I tilted my head and looked at him. One thing was missing. I walked up to him and pulled out a single curl to rest of his face. I smiled.

"You look great. Have a good time." He thanked me for my help and left. But, I couldn't help but feel jealous. Who was this woman? Is she his type? Will she love Jolyne? The smell of his cologne filled the air. It gave my goosebumps. I've never seen him without his hat. He looked so handsome. I quickly went back to taking care of Jolyne.

Hours pass and I'm passed out on the couch. I put Jolyne to bed and apparently dozed off. I hear the front door open. Dr. Kujo walks in, with a girl wrapped around his waist. I advert my eyes, feeling tears welling up. I quickly gather my stuff and walk out the door. Dr. Kujo tries to stop me.

"Hey, wait. I owe you for watching Jolyne." I shake my head and tell him this one is on me. I get and my car and drive down the street. Stopping at a red light, I let my tears comes out. What is coming over me? I hear a honk behind me and I realize the light is green. I drive through and head home.

Sitting in my room, I think about Dr. Kujo. Do I have feelings for him? I can't possibly. I groan to myself. My stupid self has fallen head over heels for a single father at least 10 years my senior. Goddamnit.

~~~

Another weekend of watching Jolyne. We sit in her room playing tea party. I hear Dr. Kujo's office door open. Jolyne quickly runs out of her room and into his office. I run after her, stopping at Dr. Kujo's desk. Jolyne tosses papers around. I gather the papers and stack them back together. A particular pieces of paper catches my eye. He's been writing about me. Jotting down his thoughts. Some are sweet and kind. Others..are dirty. My eyes widen in shock. I feel my cheeks get warm again. I put the papers down and pick up Jolyne. I hear Dr. Kujo coming back.

"What are you doing in my office?" I explained to him that Jolyne ran in here and I couldn't catch her in time. He grunts and stares at me.

"You're supposed to be watching her. Making sure she doesn't disturb me. Don't make me replace you." I swallow hard and nod.

"Yes sir." I walk fast out of the room and back to Jolyne's room. I can't help but think about what he had written down. He really thought of me in that way? Was he going on dates to avoid his feelings? The end of the nights come and I head back home.

The next weekend, I head over to the Kujo household. I knock on the door and wait. Dr. Kujo opens the door and stares down at me. My shirt was lower than normal and my shorts showed just the enough of my butt to where it seemed cheeky. I walked past him and picked up Jolyne, letting my ass stick out. Dr. Kujo clears his throats.

"I'll just be in my office. Let me know if you need anything." I nod my head, not paying him much attention. As I'm getting Jolyne's sippy cup ready, I hear a knock at the door. When I open door, the same woman from a few weekends ago stood in front of me.

"May I help you?"

"I'm here to see Jotaro."

"I'm sorry, but he's no longer interested in seeing you." I give her no time to respond and close the door. I smirk to myself and walk back to the kitchen. Dr. Kujo came out of his office.

"Who was at the door, Y/N?"

"Oh, just some door to door salesman. I said you weren't interested." He nods his head and leaves the kitchen. Another few hours pass and I put Jolyne to bed. I knock on Dr. Kujo's door. I hear a grunt and I enter.

"Yes, Y/N?"

"I'm all done tonight. Jolyne is asleep." He stands up and hands me my money. He walks me to the my car.

"Next weekend, Jolyne will be with her mother. So, you can take the weekend off." I place my hand on his arm.

"I really appreciate you letting me take care of her. I'm gonna be sad not seeing her next weekend." Dr. Kujo's breathing hitches as I graze his arm. I hop into my car and wave goodbye.

~~~

The next weekend came around and although I don't have to watch Jolyne, I head over to Dr. Kujo's house anyway. I knock on the door again and wait. He opens the door shirtless again.

"Y/N? I told you Jolyne wouldn't be here this weekend." I walk past him, letting my hand gently touch his thigh as I do.

"Oh, did you? I must have forgot." I say with a flirty tone. I sit on the couch, crossing my legs and pushing my breast together with my arms. Dr. Kujo stares at me. I get up and touch his abs. His arm reaches up and grabs my waist. I lean in closer.

"You know, Dr. Kujo, when I was in your office, I saw something that interested me." Letting my fingers walk up to his chest. His grip gets tighter on my waist. His breathing gets heavy.

"You wrote such nasty things about me and you. It really turned me on, daddy." Dr. Kujo's eyes get huge. His mouth quickly attacks mine, biting my bottom lip. I grind against the tent growing in his pants. I tug on his curly black hair. He moans into our kiss. I reach my hand down and palm his erection. At this point, Dr. Kujo has had enough. He ends the kiss and growls at me. Dr. Kujo picks me up and flings me over his shoulder, carrying me to his room. He throws me on the bed. Taking off my shirt and roughly grabs my breast.

"I know you sent my date from the other night away last weekend." He whispered into my ear. "Kind of a naughty girl for going through my personal stuff. Looking at stuff that wasn't meant for your eyes." Dr. Kujo bit down hard on my neck, causing me to moan out. He yanks my pants and underwear down, quickly rubbing my clit. My mouth drops open.

"Don't make a single noise." He warns me. My pussy begins to get so wet, I'm dripping onto his hand. Taking my mouth again, Dr. Kujo shoves his tongue down my throat. I wrap my hands into his hair. Suppressing my moans, I let my hand travel down into his pants, pumping his cock. Dr. Kujo breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against mine. I feel his warm breath on my face.

"Fuck..keep going." I kneel down and remove his pants, pumping his cock faster. I kiss the tip, letting my tongue glide over the slit. He pulls my hair back and slowly shoves himself into my mouth. I hollow my cheeks and bob back and forth. I flatten my tongue against the him. His breathing gets shallow and I feel him twitch. Ribbons of cum shoot into my mouth and down my throat. Letting go of my hair, Dr. Kujo lifts me up and puts me back on the bed. He crawls up to me, licking my breast. Dr. Kujo pushes my thighs apart, licking his hand and begins to rub my pussy again.

Leaning down, he takes my lips, kissing me with lust. He positions himself at my entrance and thrusts hard into me. I try hard to keep my moans in. He keeps our kiss going as he fucks me. His thrusts are fast and hard. Slapping skin sounds is the only noise in the room. I grab at his hair and rub his chest. Reaching a hand down, Dr. Kujo rubs my clit, causing my orgasm to hit hard. I keep silent, breathing heavy through my nose. Dr. Kujo pulls out, shooting his second orgasm onto my chest. He falls to the bed.

I let my breathing calm down and Dr. Kujo looks over at me. He smiles, kissing my head.

"There's still a lot of sweet things I'd like to do with you, Y/N." I smile back him as he hands me my clothes.

[spacechild-glitchypix]

A Mirror in a Locket

It used to be like looking in a mirror.

The picture in Willow’s locket was that of a woman with pale, fair skin, rose-pink eyes and bright orange hair, freckles splattered on her face in the exact same spots that Willow’s own were. The woman’s hair is down with two parts windowing her face, one of those parts in a braid. Willow used to have her hair like that at one point, an attempt to copy the woman in the locket. She never knew why she did it, maybe some force of nature just guided her hand or maybe she subconsciously hoped that copying her appearance would get the woman to reveal herself somehow.

Willow had this locket when she was found unconscious at the steps of the orphanage at the age of five. She didn’t know where she’d gotten it or who the woman within the picture inside of it was. Admittedly though, she didn’t know much of anything really, she couldn’t remember anything except her name, birthday and age. An amnesiac five-year-old, certainly an unusual addition to the orphanage’s already diverse roster of children but she managed to fit in with the other kids all the same. Maybe a bit too much as it turned out as she was never adopted, always overlooked for all the other kids. Not that she really cared, she had all the family she needed, not only in the woman in her locket but also in Endric.

Endric, her childhood friend.

She and Endric had left the orphanage at the age of 15 with enough money to buy a cottage and a stand to sell flowers that Willow would grow and tend to. By the time she was 18, she had fled from her hometown. She’d left behind almost everything. The locket was one of the only things she took with her, kept in her pocket and out of sight most of the time. Every so often, she would take it out and stare at what used to be like looking in a mirror. At the woman with the pale white skin, the pink eyes and the ginger hair. The only family she had.

She’d always assumed this woman had been her mother, not like there were many other people it could be. It was also the only thing Willow had to tell her she had any kind of family before the orphanage. She had dreamed of going looking for her when she was younger and that never really faded, even as she tried to convince herself that it was pure fantasy, that she didn’t even know if the woman in the locket was her mother and that she was probably dead anyway. Besides, she had Endric and he was like her cool brother who she was going to run a flower shop with, where would she even find the time to go looking for some woman in a locket when she had flowers to tend to and Endric. Endric, who had parents that he knew were dead and gone because he witnessed their deaths. Endric, who was the only person to approach her when she first joined the orphanage. Endric, who had been completely alone before she came to the orphanage. Endric, who she’d promised she’d stay beside and start a flower shop with. 

Endric, who she started that flower shop with. Endric, who she had almost up and abandoned without a word to go chasing after the woman in the locket. Endric, who had caught her just after she’d finished packing and started arguing with her, begging her to stay. Endric, who reached out towards the locket.

She panicked. She reached her hand up towards him- no idea why, she just did. There was a bright light and she was knocked backwards into a wall. She couldn't see for a second. Then she could.

Endric was lying motionless, his chest completely still and facing away from her. There wasn’t an obvious wound, she didn’t even really know what she’d hit him with but it didn’t take long for her to process what had happened. She had shot off some kind of spell in a panic and had hit Endric. She started hyperventilating as she managed to rush to his side, shaking him lightly as if trying to wake him up, punching him gently on the arm, grabbing a vase from the window sile and pouring the contents on his face and hoping for something, anything to prove that she didn’t just do what she thought she did! When none of that worked, she shakily placed her hand to where his pulse would be.

She couldn’t feel it. She shifted the placement of her fingers all over his wrist and then his neck but still, she couldn’t find it. Then she placed her head to his chest, hoping that maybe she would feel it if she went directly to the source. She lay there for a few seconds. Then a minute. Then five. Nothing happened. There was nothing there. Willow choked back a sob as she lifted her head.

She did this. She’d done this to him. She had done this to Endric, her best friend, her brother! She tried to break her promise to him and then she-

It was at that point she realised the very real, very serious repercussions of her actions. If people had found out what she’d done, she could be sentenced to prison, maybe worse! She was going to be executed for this, what had she done?! She couldn’t stay here anymore, she had to go! She needed to run!

So she did. Willow grabbed her locket, the money that Endric had stowed away in a safe and left in the register and a bag before bolting it out of town in the middle of the night, crying and trying to forget the sight of Endric laying on the floor of her bedroom. Eventually, she made it to the other town over and had spent some of the money she had buying new clothes, replacing her pink overall dress and gardening apron for a blue dress with purple sleeve ruffles and a pink corset. She replaced her blue wellington boots (that Endric had bought for her as a gift for her birthday) with a pair of brown lace-ups. For a final touch, she had bought a dark purple hooded cloak and a pair of fake glasses. Looking in the mirror, she thought it looked perfect save for one thing. Her hair.

She stared at the obvious orange locks, left down with one part in a braid and felt her ears fall as she realised that she was probably going to have to change it somehow.

She immediately decided against changing its length or colour leaving only the hairstyle left and, even then, she was hesitant. She looked back at her locket again, feeling her stomach turn as she thought about changing her hair at all. But she needed to, she needed to look different enough that she couldn’t be recognised if someone went looking for her. She looked at the different features of the woman before fixing her eyes on the braid. A braid. She could put her hair in a braid- no, two braids! Willow immediately pulled at the ribbon keeping her own miniature braid in-tact and looked at it before using her magic to turn the purple ribbon into two small purple hair ties and got to work, rearranging her hair and putting it into two braids.

She stared into her reflection from a nearby river, admiring her work as she placed the fake glasses in place and lifted the hood over her head. It was then she vowed that she’d find the woman in the locket at any and all cost. Even if the locket wasn’t a mirror anymore, she’d find the woman it depicted, her mother, no matter what.

She’d made that vow seven years ago, a broken yet resilient 18-year-old girl who placed way too much value in a woman in a locket she knew nothing about, so much value that she had accidentally murdered the only real family she actually had. Now, as a 25-year-old woman, Willow took one last glance at the locket. 

It wasn’t a mirror anymore, she had changed drastically in appearance with her fair skin now an almost sickly white, her rose-pink eyes now a sharp and frightening red, her bright orange her turned dark and dull and cut to shoulder length and her freckles having all but disappeared. She hadn’t meant to change so much, it hadn’t even been that long ago that the change had happened but change she did, it was either her looks or the memories of a member of her new family and she’d happily change her appearance all over again if it meant protecting that new family.

There was a vat of acid in front of her now, her two teammates dangling from a rope above it. It was either them or her locket the judge had said from beside her. She looked back up at her teammates, her family. River was staring at her sympathetically and something told Willow that he’d likely have completely understood if she decided to choose the locket which kind of pissed her off. She almost wanted to yell at him to put more worth in his own life goddamn it! Beau was reacting with an appropriate amount of concern and, honestly, Willow was just glad that at least one of her team members valued nis own life more than her stupid locket. Speaking of which. 

Willow glanced at the judge beside her, a smirk on her lips as she casually tossed the locket into the acid with nary a care in the world. Deep inside of herself, Willow could hear something break, could feel a small part of her wanting to reach out towards the locket as it flew towards the acid but she suppressed it. She wasn’t losing her family over that stupid thing ever again.

As the locket sunk into the vat, it all disappeared in a magical puff of smoke with River and Beau safely back on the ground. Willow looked towards them and let out a laugh. “You didn’t seriously think I’d actually kill you over a locket, right?”

“Considering how long you took to actually toss it, I honestly was,” Beau responded, wiping the nonexistent dust from nis labcoat while River rushed forward to pull Willow into a crushing hug. 

“I never doubted you for a second,” Willow didn’t believe that for a second but she let it slide as River put her down and the three saw an entryway open up from the wall of the room they were in. Beau was quick to make nis way towards it while River hung back for a second to pat Willow on the shoulder before rushing forward himself. Willow looked back at the stone judge and the empty space where the vat had been and shook her head before following her family to the next room.

She didn’t need mirrors anymore.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Rise Up

Chapter Twenty Nine

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader  |  Word Count: 6357 Warnings: Language and Drama

Song: Marry Me by Train

Steve still couldn’t believe what his eyes were showing him. Loki had gone all out to make the day special for (Y/N) though how much of it she would see was, well, yet to be seen.

It was out in the forest, but where once pine trees and slightly stumpy maples had lined the roughly honed path of hundreds of feet which had traversed the distance between the main compound and the bunker, now giant redwoods had replaced the scraggly trees towering above a wide gravel path. Lanterns glowed beneath the limbs of the lowest branches, hung along with garlands of small white flowers.

Everything looked… magical, like something out of fairytale world.

“Wow…”

Steve turned to smile at Peter and chuckled when he saw the teen. “Well, look at you.”

The boy’s eyes were enormous. “Me? Look at you!” Peter reached out to touch, only to pull his hand back. “Wow.”

“Go ahead,” Steve encouraged, holding out his arm.

Peter instantly clamped on, following the path of winding knots engraved on the bracer.

“This is so cool,” Peter breathed.

Steve ruffled his hair and looked at Loki. “What’s with the kid’s getup?”

“He will stand as the bearer of the handfasting cord. Traditionally, it is carried by the boy of your family who is closest to becoming a man. (Y/N) assured me Peter is family.” Loki motioned for them to continue down the path.

Steve looked at Peter who stood with his hands twisting together and head lowered. His heart beat faster than usual and a sheen of sweat had appeared on his brow. “Peter? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to!” Peter yelped, then flushed red. “If… if that’s… okay?”

“Yeah, kid.” Steve gently bounced his fist on Peter’s shoulder. “That would be great. Though I’m not sure what it is you’re doing.”

“I will explain once we are moving.” Loki shooed the group of them forward.

The others had headed on while Steve had waited for Loki to return at the head of the path. He’d gone to check on (Y/N) a final time, and apparently, pick up Peter.

Hemme had come to visit, and Steve had stepped off the path and into the forest, out of view as a hoard of well-dressed people had tramped by, laughing and excited. He'd paid them no mind and no one had noticed him in the deep shadows with the big black stallion.

“So?” Steve asked, heading into the forest with Peter between himself and Loki.

“Asgardian ceremonies are… extravagant. They are held in the open to allow the Norns the best opportunity to bear witness, and while I’m certain you think I have gone… overboard, I assure you I have not. This is rather tame.” He waved his hand at the trees. “You and (Y/N) will stand before the fire, speak your heart to each other beneath the boughs of the willow arch; then Thor will begin the binding.”

“And what is the binding?” Peter asked.

“This,” Loki waved his hand, and a cord of braided lengths of white ribbons, golden threads, and sparkling gems appeared draped over his palm, “is the handfasting cord. During the ceremony, Peter will stand with me, and when Thor begins the binding, you will present it to him. While on Earth handfasting is simply a symbol, an act they go through to present a union, for us it is quite different. And permanent.”

“Permanent?” Steve asked.

Loki cast him an indignant look. “As your bond with Sváfa is already quite permanent, this should not be an issue for you, Captain.”

“Isn’t. Just curious.”

“Hm. On Asgard, those of us who live long lives usually wait to find our one before committing ourselves to matrimony. The person meant to be with us throughout our years. When this happens, we handfast. It creates a bond unbreakable, increasing the affection we hold for one another, so the centuries together do not become stagnant.”

“Cool,” Peter piped up. “So they’re like, what? You’re soulmate?”

“Yes.”

“That’s really neat.” Peter looked up in awe.

“It is our way,” Loki murmured, returning his focus to Steve. “Thor will call for the cord at which time he will have you and (Y/N) join hands. He will ask you certain question to which you need only answer him with the words we will. The ceremony is not difficult. Just follow instructions and (Y/N)’s lead. You will be fine.”

“We’re not sacrificing a goat,” Steve muttered.

Loki snickered. “Father is quite put out by that fact, though it is more a Midgardian tradition or for the people of our realm than a godly one.”

They’d made it further into the forest and Steve admired the bridge which had been built to span the small ditch before the turn toward the bunker. Through the now redwood forest, he should have been able to see the old bunker they used for training, but it had disappeared, replaced by what looked like the ruins of an old stone church. Large peaked windows, ornate cornices, and heavy, ancient stones which stood behind rows of glowing mini lights, hung like a waterfall of sparkle in front of them, each strand wrapped in more of the small white flowers.

Once they rounded the corner, he stopped to stare. Awe filled him for the stage set was incredible. There were no pews per say, but fur covered daybeds piled with pillows. Members of the staff had gathered in groups of twos and threes, some with cups in hand which steamed slightly into the air. Others were milling still, checking out the decorations — some taking pictures.

Steve glanced at Tony who winked, letting him no there would be no accidental posts to social media. Likely the tech genius had something in place to keep the news from getting out. That was fine by Steve. He’d rather the news didn’t break until after he and (Y/N) were away.

Tony had already decreed he would be sending them on their honeymoon, to a location of his choice, and no, they were not allowed to know where they were going. Natasha and Wanda would pack a bag for (Y/N), while Bucky had taken care of Steve’s.

Returning his attention to the front, he marvelled at the wicker arbour standing sentinel over an ornate rug surrounded by a ring of flowers and a few flickering candles, placed just beyond a large fire pit of beaten copper with logs already lit and burning.

Odin broke away from where he waited with Thor and Heimdall to traverse the winding aisle and approach Steve’s small group. “If we are ready to begin, I will return for Sváfa.” Without waiting for agreement, he walked away.

Steve looked at Loki. “I get the distinct impression he doesn’t like me much.”

“It is less that he dislikes you and more that he his… disconcerted by your newfound title,” Loki murmured. “Come.” He motioned toward the front where the team waited.

“Damn, Cap!” Grant called out, grinning where he sat huddled with Faye. “Looking badass!”

“Who knew you could pull off the Viking thing so good!” Sammy yelled. “Wowza!!”

Whistling and thunderous applause turned his ears red, but he took it all with a good-natured grin and raised hands. Wanda and Natasha both poked at his chest and ribs. He hugged Pepper and welcomed her back. Accepted the teasing of Shuri, the soft smile of Nakia, and the smug grin of Okoye. He crouched to speak with Laura and Clint’s kids and blushed a little harder when Laura asked if he had any more armour he’d like to lend Clint.

But it was the person rising from the seat beside Sam who froze his blood. “Sharon?”

“Hey, Steve.” She gaped at him, mouth open in clear disbelief.

“Uh, what… what are you doing here?” he asked, stepping to the side and away from the people who were trying to look like they weren’t eavesdropping, and Natasha who didn’t bother to try and hide her displeasure at all. “Does (Y/N) know you’re here?”

“Yeah,” Sharon assured him, unable to pull her eyes away from his armour. “Wow. I… just… wow.” Her hand fluttered toward him, but she pulled it back before it landed.

“Yeah,” Steve laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Little different.”

She finally lifted her gaze to his, worry on her face. “Steve, is this what you want? Are you sure? It's only been a few months and-”

Steve held up his hand, cutting her off. “Don’t. She’s my world, Sharon. There is so much you don’t know or understand, but this? Yes, it's not exactly what I would have expected, but I love her.”

“They all told me. But, Steve! It all seems so fantastical! She’s some Valkyrie Queen? You’re some long-lost heir to some Asgardian kingdom? What the hell, Steven?”

It was odd but having her use his full name felt… wrong. Like he was being scolded by someone who no longer had that right. Like she was stepping into space which no longer belonged to her, but only to (Y/N). “Look, Sharon. I appreciate your concern, but this is my choice. She’s my soulmate. We live lives together! I met one. Myself in our first life together and it was like seeing my twin! It may sound like some fairy tale but its real. All of it.”

“So you believe she’s some Valkyrie Queen? She’s got you all believing it. What if it’s…” she glanced toward Loki and lowered her voice. “A trick?”

He straightened to his full height, anger furrowing his brow. “Don’t ever question her again. She’s exactly what she says she is. And if you’d been here this morning when nine wings of Valkyries rode in on their Pegasi from a tear in space, you wouldn’t be asking me these questions.”

“Pegasi?” she snorted. “Horses with wings? You expect me to believe there are horses with wings?”

Steve lifted his hand and pointed over her shoulder. “His name is Hemme, and he belongs to my girl.”

Sharon glanced over her shoulder, did a double take, and turned all the way around to stare at the big black loitering in the trees munching on ferns. “Ho… holy… wow,” she whispered.

“Still think we’re delusional?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t bother to mention the mission they’d gone on with (Y/N), the panels they’d found in the mountain stronghold or the alien creature whose ass she’d kicked.

“Okay, I’ll… I’ll give you that one.” She turned around to study him for a long moment. “But, Steve… are you sure, really and truly sure this is what you want? You’ve only ever had two girlfriends, and Aunt Peggy was-”

“I think you should go, Sharon,” Steve cut her off. “If you can’t be happy for me and (Y/N), if you can’t wish us well, then you should go.”

“She was your first love, Steve.”

“Sváfa was my first love. My true love. And she’s been my wife more than once. Yeah, I loved Peggy, but what I feel for (Y/N)... it's like comparing a candle to the moon. No one outshines my sjelevenn.”

She stiffened, shock washing over her features. “You… but you… you said you’d never love anyone as much as you loved Peggy.”

“I was wrong.”

The colour bled from her face. “Wow. I never saw this coming when we broke up, and I encouraged you to go after her.”

Steve didn’t know what to make of that statement. “I’m happy you did, but it was (Y/N) who finally confessed to me, not the other way around. Besides, you’re engaged to Eric. What should it matter if I marry my girl?”

“Eric and I... aren’t,” she whispered.

“Excuse me?” Steve asked.

“After… after (Y/N) was rescued and back for a few weeks, Eric and I, we had a falling out. He said I was too focused on… on you.”

“Jesus, Sharon!” Steve hissed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“You were… busy. With her.” She shrugged dismissively, but Steve couldn’t help but hear the kernel of jealousy in the words. “Anytime we talked, you were full of news about her and her progress. How she was adjusting to being blind. How great she was doing. Even now I can’t believe how not blind she appeared. Other than those eyes.”

He knew his girl’s eyes bothered people, but when Sharon shuddered, he turned away to take in his surroundings. The stern look on Bucky’s face, the hard visage of Natasha, and the anger of Tony’s only helped firm his resolve. This was out of line. “Look, Sharon…”

“He wasn’t wrong, Steve.”

He closed his eyes, having been desperately hoping she wasn’t going to go there. “Please, don’t do this. We’ve been done more than a year. We drifted apart, and dammit, Sharon!” He spun back to face her. “I’m getting married! Nothing will change that! Nothing!”

“Okay, time for you to go.” Natasha appeared at his elbow, her dress a full-length black number with a thigh-high slit. A thick shawl of bright blue draped around her shoulders was meant to keep off the chill of this fall evening. “I think you’ve caused enough chaos for the bride and groom. Was that your real purpose here? Stir things up and try to stop the ceremony? How did you find out about Steve and (Y/N)’s wedding?”

Sharon looked shocked and took a step back. “I… what? I was delivering intel on an upcoming mission. I had no idea this was taking place!”

“Old intel. Intel which had already been delivered by another courier,” Tony said, sauntering over in an immaculate three-piece suit. “You know, I couldn’t figure it out; how Ross was getting his intel. It took me longer than I’d like to admit, but I finally got it. Thanks for that. You’re arrival made the lightbulb burn.”

“Tony? What are you talking about?” Steve asked.

“Little Miss Perky isn’t at fault, but her boy toy likely is. You talk to her, Cap. Why wouldn’t you? Things ended amicably, and you’ve remained friendly. I bet you’ve told her a few things, but we wouldn’t have flagged your calls. Why would we? There was no way you were spilling Avenger secrets. You never even named names, I’m sure, when it came to our… special guests, but Eric? Now, he had no loyalty to the Avengers and was, likely, smart enough to figure out just what was happening here, so it doesn’t surprise me he sold us out to Ross. Pretty smart, actually. What better way to know what’s happening within the walls of the compound then by spying on the one person with inside access who didn’t live on site.”

Steve gaped at Tony before scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “Son of a bitch,” Steve swore.

“You kiss your girl with that mouth, Rogers?” Fury asked, striding down the aisle to take a seat beside Maria.

“Good to see you made it,” Steve nodded, but his mind was reeling. All this time. His casual conversations with someone he trusted, that was the reason Ross knew what was happening.  

“And (Y/N)’s mouth is worse,” Natasha snickered.

“I’ll kill him!” Sharon snapped. “I’m gonna murder him!”

“Who sent you here today, Sharon?” Steve asked.

“My boss. He just said the intel needed to be delivered. That it was time sensitive, and I shouldn’t delay.”

“Phone.” Tony held out his hand. Sharon instantly handed it over, and Tony passed his watch over it. “As I thought. It’s transmitting. Luckily, I’ve had this place on lockdown since Cap proposed. You would have gone radio silent the moment you entered the grounds. Still. FRIDAY, darling?”

“Yes, boss?”

“Best set a perimeter warning. Don’t need any unwanted guests,” Tony muttered.

“But how’d they know to send her today?” Steve asked.

Tony had been clicking away on his phone and sighed. “Your discretion in the city didn’t quite cut it. Some intrepid Twitter follower saw you coming out of the back door at Tiffany and Company and followed you to Cartier. Speculation is running rampant, especially with this image.”

He turned the phone so that Steve could see it. They’d caught him coming out of Freyja’s place, looking stupidly happy with the small box in hand.

“Dammit!” He couldn’t catch a break.

“Steve, I’m so sorry,” Sharon said, her tone ringing sincerity.

“There’s enough blame to go around. You don’t need to take it all on yourself,” Steve assured her. “But maybe you should still go.”

“Too late,” Bucky muttered, peering through the trees before turning cold eyes to Sharon. “Sit and keep your opinions to yourself. (Y/N)’s on her way.”

Sharon nodded, looking contrite, but Steve couldn’t think about all this right now. No matter what she’d had to say, it would have made little difference. (Y/N) was his heart and soul. He wanted nothing more than to marry her and spend as many lives with her as possible.

“Captain,” Thor called, motioning for him to come forward to where the fire burned. “Wait here. Friends!” He waved their immediate teammates to stand in a circle around the arbour. “We invite all who are here to bear witness to this joyous occasion, but I ask those Steve and (Y/N) call family to gather close and become part of the ceremony.”

Bucky came to stand at his side, giving Steve a wink while holding (Y/N)’s sword.

“Buck,” Steve murmured.

Bucky shook his head. “She didn't know her Aunt that well if she thinks Peggy wouldn't be over the moon happy for you, Steve.”

Steve nodded, appreciating the sentiment.  “I don't ever want (Y/N) thinking she's less in my eyes. Sharon did that once. I won't let it happen again.”

“That’s good, cause here she comes, and I’m pretty sure if she thought you’d changed your mind, she’d stab you with your own sword,” Bucky chuckled as the guests got to their feet.

“I’d walk through Hell for her. I don't have any doubts about where she belongs, or where I belong. Even if that means standing behind her throne in Asgard.” Steve stood a little taller, able to make out Clint leading the way with his sword stretched across Clint’s palms.

Loki had explained that the exchange of swords was basically a promise. By Sváfa giving up her most powerful weapon, Glemsel, she was announcing her complete trust and faith in Steve’s ability to protect and provide for her. Her sword was an extension of herself, and without it, she was easy prey for her enemies.

By keeping Steve’s sword, Randulfr, with her, it was Steve’s way of providing his protection even though he was not present. None would dare go against her for she was not helpless because he had provided his most powerful protection to her, for her use, until they met again.

Before the fire they would meet, the blades would be laid bare and returned to their owners. Held in trust, they were exchanged with great reverence, showing the care and esteem each held for the other. Giving back a damaged sword, unless needed in battle, was considered disrespectful and had, more than once, ended a wedding before it began. The transfer of his sword back to him also symbolized the acknowledgment that he was now responsible for the guardianship and protection of his new bride, while his return of her sword let her know he had absolute faith and trust in her ability to protect herself, their home, and future children. It was a balance, a partnership, and a give and take. One was no better than the other but moved forward from their marriage as a unit.

While he may think it odd, their traditions a little archaic, they were also beautiful in a violent - potentially stabby - kind of way, and he’d charged Bucky with taking the utmost care with (Y/N)’s sword.

Clint’s eyes widened as he took in the setting before shooting his kids a wink when Lila called out, “Hi, Dad!” She made the gathered guests chuckle, and Steve smiled fondly at her.

Thor tilted his head, and Clint followed his meaning, moving to the side to wait, but Steve only had eyes for (Y/N).

His breath caught, and the burn of tears had him sinking his teeth into his cheek. She looked beautiful. Her dress was such a pure white it seemed to glow in the low light. Her long sleeves swung with each step. The neckline highlighted her locket, causing him to choke up even further. There was a bouquet in her arm of more white flowers, stalks of wheat, and sprigs of lavender, the stems wrapped in a ribbon whose ends glittered with crystals.

More crystals gleamed in the silver crown upon her brow, some clear while others were the same milk white as the moonstone in her ring. She looked ethereal, and when she stepped beyond the shadow of the trees on Odin’s arm, Steve could no longer hold back the little gasp of breath or the tear which escaped his eye.

“Friends,” Thor intoned. “We stand before these flames meant to symbolize those of Valhalla, and call upon the Norns to bear witness to this man and this woman who choose this night to be joined together and live as husband and wife.” He took (Y/N)’s hand from Odin. The All-father kissed her cheek and moved off to stand with Loki and Peter - whose hands now held the handfasting cord.

Steve turned to face his girl, her smile wide and cheeks lightly pink. Her heart beat beside his, happy and excited and so full of joy.

“Steven.” Thor held out (Y/N)’s hand. “Join your hand with (Y/N)’s and pass them over the fire as you join me beneath the brambles.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, simply reached out and took her hand from Thor’s, allowing the Asgardian to move away to step beneath the arbour.

Before taking another step, Steve bent toward her and whispered, “You look beautiful, min vakre skjoldpike.”

***

You smiled, heart full to bursting. “You look…” The fire crackled and sparked beside you, the heat helping to highlight his beautiful armour. “Incredible.” And you wanted to touch every inch of him.

He chuckled softly before catching the point of your sleeve and folding it up over your arm. “You lead, sweetheart. I’ll follow you.”

You were fairly certain if you smiled any wider your face would cramp, but you gave him a wink and nudged him toward his side of the brazier. You stepped to yours and with outstretched arms, you let the heat of the fire lick at your joined hands while you made your way toward Thor.

“May the flames of Valhalla bless you, keep you warm, and light fires of passion forevermore in your hearts for each other,” Thor spoke as you moved beyond the fire to stand with him in the circle of protection beneath the wooden arbour. “Bring the swords.” He motioned to Clint and Bucky. “Captain, draw the sword, and if (Y/N) finds you worthy, we shall continue.”

Steve turned toward Bucky who held the sword out so he could draw it smoothly from its sheath and present it over his palms to you. “Not a scratch.”

Handing your bouquet to Wanda, you wrapped your hand around the hilt. Glemsel greeted you, humming with power, and you took your fingers down the blade. “Thank you for your care, sjelevenn.” Bucky handed over your sheath, and you returned your sword to it before passing it off to Natasha.

“(Y/N),” Thor murmured. “You’re up.”

Clint stepped forward, and you closed your hand around the hilt of Randulfr. The power which raced up your arm had you breathing out in shock as you drew it forth and held it out to Steve. “Wow. That’s… intense.”

He chuckled softly and took it from your hands. You weren’t sure what the others saw, but there was a loud gasp from the group at large. To you, Steve appeared to glow, more in keeping with Thor or Loki or Odin, strong and powerful with a very bright soul.

“Perfect. Just like you,” Steve murmured.

Wanda awed, and Clint snickered but turned over the sheath to Steve. He handed it off to Bucky when Thor motioned for him to wait and took the weapon from him. Much of Steve’s glow diminished with its removal.

“The rings, Captain?”

Sam swiftly dug into his pocket and dropped them into Steve’s open hand. Steve gave them to Thor, who set them on the hilt of the blade.

“Consecrated on this blade, we emphasize the sacredness of the compact between man and wife and the binding nature of the oath which they take together. Captain, take up (Y/N)’s ring and speak the vows from your heart.”

Steve picked the ring from the blade, took your hand, and began to slide it up your finger. “(Y/N). Today, I take you to be my partner, my one true love, and my wife. I promise to encourage you and inspire you, to love you truly through good times and bad. I will be there to laugh with you and to lift you up when you’re down. I will love you unconditionally through all of our adventures in this life and all the ones to come. You talk about being my shield, but I’m gonna stand as your sword. Whatever comes, you’ll never be alone because I am always with you.”

You tried hard not to cry, you really did, but at least one tear slipped out to trickle down your cheek. “Oh, Stevie…”

“Baby.” He cupped your cheek and brushed the tear from it.

“(Y/N).” Thor shifted the blade toward you.

Picking Steve’s ring from the hilt, your fingers shook a little when you took his hand and slipped the ring on his finger. “Steven… I always thought it would be difficult to find someone who’d love me when I felt… so plain. Then, everything changed, and I lost my way for a while, got a little scattered. It was like trying to complete a puzzle when the pieces were the wrong size. But then there was you, and you showed me every piece didn’t have to be perfect to create something beautiful. You showed me that love could exist in the most imperfect, lost, broken person. You lift me up. You stand with me. You’re my heart and my soul, and I love you, so damn much. I need you like I need air.” Continuing to hold his hand, you reached up with the other and set it on his wet cheek. “Alt jeg har, alt det jeg er, alt jeg vil være, er din. For alltid. All I have, all I am, all I want to be, is yours. Forever.”

His face softened when he smiled and swallowed thickly. “Sjelevenn.”

“Forever, Steven,” you affirmed.

He leaned down to kiss you only to have Thor clear his throat.

“Patience, Captain,” he chuckled, sheathing the sword and returning it to Bucky. “Peter.”

The boy practically jumped the distance to Thor’s side and thrust the cord outward. You winked at him, causing heat to rise in his cheeks.

“Thank you, Peter. You may step back.” Thor looked at you both, then out at those gathered. “We begin the binding. In this, gathered friends, I invite you to witness as two are made one, in love and life, for better or worse, where not even death shall part them. As Steve and (Y/N) go through this life together, I bid you remind them of their oath here today if trouble should brew between them. Join your left hands.”

Steve gently took your hand in his. His smile soft. His hand warm.

“Steven and (Y/N), I bid you look at each other. Will you honour and respect one another, and seek to never break that honour?”

“We will,” the two of you agreed, and Thor draped the cord over your joined hands.

“And so the first binding is made. Will you share each other’s pain and seek to ease it?”

“We will.”

He crossed the cord beneath your hands, brought it up, and draped it over them again. “And so the binding is made. Will you share the burdens of each other so your spirits may grow in this union?”

“We will.” The cord made another round, this time draping each wrist.

“And so the binding is made. Will you share each other’s laughter, and look for the brightness in life and the best in each other?”

“We will,” you agreed, and Thor wrapped the cords the final time.

“And so the binding is made.” He tied the cords together and cupped your joined hands between his own. “(Y/N) and Steve, as your hands are bound together now, so your lives and spirits are joined in a union of love and trust. Above you are the stars and below you is the earth. Like the stars, your love should be a constant source of light, and like the earth, a firm foundation from which to grow. Today and each day forward, may you be a symbol of love to each other and the world.”

With his final word, lightning licked over your joined fists, and as you’d done this before, you knew a golden glow would radiate from between his palms as the binding took place.

Steve’s fingers squeezed yours and love overflowed your heart.

“Friends! I bid you join me in congratulations for this couple, now joined forevermore, as they have given me the honour of presenting them to you for the first time. Steven and (Y/N) Rogers, King of Sváfaland and Queen of the Valkyrjur! Captain! Feel free to kiss your bride!”

Hands still bound together, Steve dragged you toward him, sank his hand into your hair and closed his mouth over yours.

The cheers and whistling faded into nothing when the steady beating of Steve’s heart took over your ears. It thudded in time with yours. Even with his armour hard against your chest, you could feel it, beating, full of love and devotion and unending desire.

You wrapped your hand around the back of his neck; your joined hands held tight to your belly. Getting enough of his mouth was impossible. The taste which was all Cap, a combination of minty toothpaste and heady spice, and something which bespoke a will that could move mountains, slid over your tongue when you took the kiss deeper and licked his bottom lip.

He made a noise like a tiger purring and sank in, dragged you higher against him until you lifted up on your toes. And time stood still for one brief moment when air became necessary for life, and your mouths parted only enough to breathe together, moist puffs of air whispering over plump, wet lips.

Foreheads touching, Steve shifted his hand to your cheek. “You’re mine now.”

“I’ve always been yours,” you whispered and nipped your teeth into his full lower lip. “And I’ll be yours until the end of time.”

The loud clearing of at least three throats finally broke you apart.

“If you two are done sucking face, there’s a party to be had,” Sam laughed and bumped hips with Bruce.

“Yeah, brat. Save that for the honeymoon,” Clint teased.

“Small people watching. You’d best keep it clean,” Bucky snickered.

“Just because I’m wearing a dress, doesn’t mean I can’t kick all of your asses,” you warned.

Thor belted out a laugh. “Come, everyone! Let us feast!” More cheering erupted.

Loki moved closer, but you shot him a smile. “Could Steve and I have a moment?”

Happy smiles and laughter along with good-natured ribbing filled the air, but people started making their exit, following Tony away from the ceremony space back toward the compound. But when Bucky and Natasha made their way toward Sharon and quick marched her away, you frowned.

“I will wait for you down the path, (Y/N),” Loki murmured, stepping forward to kiss your cheek before walking away.

“Thank you, Loki. Thor. All-father.” You smiled at the lot.

“Daughter,” Odin said, taking your hands. “You look lovely. Frigga would be pleased.” He looked at Steve and finally held out his hand. “You wear Hurgid’s armour well.”

“Thank you, sir,” Steve murmured, gripping his wrist.

“Congratulations, Sváfa,” Heimdall murmured, also kissing your cheek. “Ravishing, as always.”

“Heimdall, you flatter me,” you chuckled. “I’ll take it.”

He belted out a laugh and encouraged Odin away allowing you and Steve a moment alone.

“Can we take this off now?” Steve asked, holding up your tied fists.

“Yeah.” You tugged one end loosening the rope.

Steve caught it when it started to slide and wrapped it around your waist, turning it into a belt and making you giggle. “That’s improper use of a handfasting cord.”

“Matches your outfit.” He took you by the waist and just held you. “You do look… incredible.”

“I know it’s not what you expected and that this whole ceremony isn’t traditional-”

He succeeded in stopping your words with a well-timed kiss. “Baby, I wouldn’t have cared if we got married in an alley. All I want is you.”

“Steve,” you sighed and melted. “You’re too good.”

“Only when I want to be, Mrs. Rogers.”

“That’s going to take some getting used to.” You brought your hands to his chest and stroked the heavy armour. “You really do make this look good. I love your work suits, but this. Steve, you look enormous. So big and strong. It’s just… amazing.”

“Gave Odin a shock.”

“I bet,” you murmured, continuing to touch him. “I want to peel you out of this.”

“Does it turn you on?” he teased.

You lifted your head and smiled at him. “You have no idea.” You wanted to climb him like a tree.

His hands went to your ass and jerked you in tight. “I could find out.”

“Mmm, I would say yes, but there’s no time. Loki is waiting because I have a surprise for you.” You turned toward the fire and gave a quiet sigh. “I do wish I could see this. I’m getting images, shapes of things. I can see this,” you touched the arbour, “and feel the fire burning. I know there are couches set up for the guests and I can smell mulled wine and spiced mead. But… I miss the colours.”

Steve stepped into your spine and held you close, his head tucking down on your shoulder. “Everything is shades of green, brown, and red. The redwoods are so tall they blot out the sky except for directly above us. There are garlands of white flowers strewn everywhere, even cascading like a waterfall behind us, braided together with small twinkle lights. The fire glows in reds and oranges against the copper bowl, and more flames flicker in the wrought iron lanterns hanging in the trees.”

“And you?” you asked, able to picture it now with his voice low in your ear.

“The armour is burgundy, a deep rich red, and there is a brindled fur collar. Dark leather pants, boots that match the armour, and a tunic in blue and black.”

“Sexy,” you purred, and he laughed.

“Not as sexy as you. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he whispered against your cheek. “I want my mark, baby.”

The words caused a clench to hit your womb. “Tonight. I promise.”

“You’d better. Should we join the others?” he asked as the moon crested the tops of the trees. Then, he gasped. “(Y/N)!”

“What?”

“The stones… they’re… glowing!”

You laughed softly and touched the crown. “I’m not surprised. They were from the Elves, and the Valley of the Veil on Álfheim Loki said. The light elves were quite tied to the moon, and their stones tended to retain their light.”

“But… your ring glows too.”

You held out your hand and could feel the magic pulse. “Freyja, what tricks are you playing?”

“No tricks, darling,” Loki said, appearing out of nowhere. “It is but an Elven Moonstone like those in mother’s bridal crown. They strengthen the bonds of love and passion. Freyja has been doing everything in her power, so it seems, to make certain you and your sjelevenn are unable to be torn asunder. The bond you share has become as unbreakable as the metal of Mjolnir.”

“That she’s gone to such lengths… worries me,” you murmured.

“Whatever comes, together, baby. Always together,” Steve promised.

“Are you ready, darling?” Loki asked.

“Ready for what?” Steve frowned.

“I did say I had a surprise for you,” you murmured and stepped backward out of his arms. “I know this day didn’t go quite as it should. It wasn’t what you expected, but you indulged my traditions.”

“Sweetheart, we discussed this already. I’m fine with it.”

“I’m not.” You lifted your chin. “You deserve every chance at happiness because tonight is about the two of us. I can’t give you a church wedding, not now. If you want one in the future, I’m happy to do this again. The one thing I can give you is a piece of the past. Bucky helped me find it, pick something he thought you’d like so if it’s hideous, blame him. But this, Steve. This is my gift to you with the help of our friends.” You nodded to Loki and felt the magic swell around you.

When it ended, you stood to wait for his reaction.

“Holy… shit,” Steve swore.

Next Chapter

[a-tale-of-moons]

Chapter I: A Long Way From Home

My fingers dig into the earth and little zaps of electricity run through the tips of my nails to my wrists. With one deep breath that rattles my diaphragm, I can tell the flowers are going to sprout well this summer. The marigolds are going to stretch particularly tall and proud, their sunny color chasing away any lingering traces of winter.

“That should do it.” I pack away my tools and the rest of the seeds into my wicker basket and nestle it by the side of my shed. I remember when Ama built this shed for me when I was about five. After too many nights sneaking away to watch the nymphs and pixies build houses out of the brickerbrack I set out for them, she decided giving me some sort of shelter would be safer and better than me running out of the house to squat in the grass. After about 12 years years of use, it’s lopsided thanks to the elements, and the chipped. Some of the floors are overtaken by moss and intruding vines. Every time I attempt to clean it, it’s an absolute mess within a month or so. And hence, it’s more of a figurehead than a proper shed. I store more things beneath its overhanging eaves than inside of it.

After I waddle my way out of the garden and close the white, wooden gate, Eileen hops over to my bare feet and takes a nip at my toes. I click my tongue and kick my foot out, sure that I’ll miss her (which I do) and she’ll scurry back to give me space (which she does).

“I just fed you, you gremlin,” I say to her. “You’re not even hungry. Just greedy.”

She scrunches her nose at me and her long, oreo-colored ears flop in defiance. I roll my eyes and continue on my way, walking opposite the house and toward the wood. I say a silent prayer Eileen doesn’t get at my grass. Just inside the very edge of the wood after weaving through a small thicket of trees, there is a pond. It’s wide and considerably shallow, but it’s the only body of water for miles unmolested by Elora’s whims. She says it’s too small, is barely a proper medium at all, and simply doesn’t “suit her”. And true, the leaves overhanging from the branches stitch closely enough to create a sort of canopy that shields the sun away and most of the woodland creatures tend to keep away from it. It’s somewhat of an abandoned piece of nature. However, all the more reason why I can’t stay away. It’s quiet, secluded, and allows me space away from the always crowded Willowbrook.

Believe me, I love my family in a way even I find inconceivably fierce. But, after days upon days of dealing with Pond’s incessant rambling, Jacoby’s acute rage spells, and Elora’s overgrown ego, I just need a break. Somewhere I can relax without someone barging in. Somewhere where-

“Naomi!”

Before I can even finish the thought, Elora’s panicked voice has me whipping around. My sister looks so deeply troubled in a way I’ve never seen before. Her dark, brown eyes are rimmed in red and look puffy, like after a fresh cry. Her brown skin usually has such a shine to it. It seems uncharacteristically sallow. Her long, black braids hang loosely past her waist. Elora almost always has her braids in a neat bun or tied back in a ponytail. To her, unstyled hair is “unseemly and juvenile”. And worst of all, she apparently ran, by the look of her hammering chest, all of the way from the house to my little pond, a total of about three miles, barefoot.

“Naomi, please,” Elora’s voice is raspy and uncontrolled. “You must come. Ama...Ama, she is-”

“Explain later,” I tell her and take her hand, guiding her back through the thicket. We make the trek home quicker than I ever thought possible. Usually, I can’t keep myself from stopping to fiddle with the flowers and vegetation along the way. My mind can’t be bothered to think of anything else but the fact that something is the matter with Ama. I want so badly to badger Elora with questions. I think better of it. She seems barely able to hold her own weight.

We reach the house just as Pond comes stumbling out of the back door, ginger curls matted and even angrier than usual. His terrorized frown quivers when he sees us, green eyes full of worry. Even his freckles look to be in disarray. In this bizarre moment, my brain chooses now to remind me how much Pond resembles Eileen. Like a skittish, spooked bunny. Twitching nose and pupils blown wide and round.

“Naomi, a recipe...there has to be a recipe for this, right?” Pond is pointing in all directions, even more frantic and frazzled than Elora; who, by this point, has gone from making an uproar to blank and unresponsive, face frozen in almost tears.

“A recipe for what?” I ask him, moving closer as fast as I can while supporting most of Elora’s weight. “Pond, what’s wrong?”

He opens his mouth to speak and I shake my head. “You know what? I’ll see it for myself. Can you take her, please?”

“Yeah, sure.” Pond takes Elora from me and as soon as she’s out of my arms I’m rushing through the back door, past the kitchen, and up the stairs. The door to Ama’s room is wide open and light floods out of it. When I reach the doorframe, my stomach clenches. The stench of vomit makes my throat tight. I have to keep myself from running away. Inside of the room, Jacoby is kneeling beside Ama’s bedside, holding her chubby, hard-knuckled fingers in his, eyes closed and lips moving silently. Praying. To who? I’m not sure. Jacoby doesn’t believe in a higher power. Where would the faithless place his faith?

The light is coming from Jacoby. When he’s focusing his magic, he glows. It’s running through his body. His olive skin is luminescent. His flowing, jet black hair which was obviously once pulled into a ponytail is now mostly loosened, the ribbon barely hanging on near the ends. I almost wheel backward. If it isn’t because of the smell, then it’s because I don’t want to disturb him. But, I need to know what’s happened. I need to know why Ama, who was exuberant and full of life just this morning, is lying on her bed, limp.

“Jake.” I move further into the room, trying my best to step around the papers loitering the floor. Kneeling next to him, I turn, gaze falling to his undone ponytail. It’s stupid the way it commands my attention. But, I pull out the ribbon as Jacoby continues to pray and set to fixing it. I pull his thick, black waves to the nape of his neck, smoothing the sides with one hand, and tie the ribbon in place. The red of the silk is a startling contrast.

Maybe it wasn’t as stupid a task as I thought. Once the ribbon is in securely, Jacoby finally opens his tawny colored-eyes, and looks over at me, hand still intertwined with Ama’s limp one.

“Nao,” He says, breathlessly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She was making breakfast and then she just collapsed. We carried her upstairs. Pond went crazy--ripping through Ama’s drawers, trying to find some recipe to bring her back. But, how are we supposed to heal something we can’t diagnose?”

“She was perfectly fine and just...collapsed? Out of nowhere?” I ask, incredulous.

“Just dropped right there.” He confirms with a nod. My eyes swing from Jacoby’s contorted facial expression to Ama. Her coarse, lavender curls are pulled into a sloppy bun, nothing fashionable, just something to get them away from her perspiring forehead. Her eyelids twitch. Or, at least, I think they do. Maybe I’m going crazy. Except, I know I’m not because they twitch again before fluttering open. Cloudy and barely focused but open.

“Ama!” Jacoby gasps beside me and straightens up, gripping her hand tighter. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve had my scarf caught in the wheels of a carriage and been drug through the town,” she says with a fatigued smile. “Is it just me or does it smell like old lady in here?”

“Ama, this isn’t the time for your jests!” Jacoby huffs in frantic anger.

“My love, it also isn’t the time to be acting like I’m already dead.” Even while surely in pain and extreme discomfort, Ama can’t keep a serious face...to save her life. “It doesn’t leave me much to hope for.”

Jacoby’s shoulders rise and fall with the deep breath he takes. “I’m sorry. I just--what happened?”

“Naomi, dear.” Ama’s violet eyes turn to me. Her arm tremors as she exerts the little force she has left in her to point in the direction of a cabinet to the side of her bedroom door. It seems to be one of the few spared from Pond’s raid. She’s a heavy-set woman with a will to match. It’s difficult to see her lying down, barely manifesting the energy to do something so simple as point. “In that cupboard, there is a red journal. Bring it to me, angel.”

I nod and stand.

Before I realize it my knees are back on the wood and I’m tipping to one side, barely saved from knocking my skull on the floor by Jacoby’s strong arm. The world spins in fuzzy shapes beyond my eyes and I jerk forward, forehead pressed into the soft cloth of Ama’s blanket.

“Close your eyes and breathe, my sweet.” Ama runs her fingers down my back. I obey quietly, letting my eyes fall shut and counting my breaths. I hear her say, “Jacoby, love. Can you grab me my journal?”

“Of course.” His presence disappears from my side. For some reason, the hollow thump of his footsteps on the wood echoes in my brain, encompassing my mind in deafening sound. The cabinet doors creak. And then the rustle of papers. More footsteps. I jolt when a burning hand on my neck replaces the one on my back. I startle even more at the faraway sound of the kitchen’s back door swinging open and then slamming shut. Even more footsteps and frenzied conversation.

Lovely. Nothing better for a headache than the twins being riled up. Elora’s voice starts off loud before a string of coughs quiet her. I look up at Ama, still queasy but better than a moment ago. Her face betrays her. She can longer put on a brave expression for us. Veins in her neck pulse against the frail, translucent skin as she struggles to sit up against the headboard with Jacoby’s help. As Ama settles herself, Elora comes to kneel next to me and Pond follows.

“The Imani have a much longer lifespan than some of our Creature kin,” Ama says in between breaths, thumbing the red journal in her hands. “Longer, but not infinite. There is a spell we use that calls the spirits of mortality. If presented with an offering that pleases them, they may spare us a few extra years when our time of...retirement is nigh.”

“What kind of offering?” Jacoby asks.

“Spirits can sometimes hold a physical form,” says Ama. “But, belonging to the astral realm, physical forms can’t last long. Sometimes spirits take physical forms to deal with the living. And although difficult, if harmed while in physical form spirits “bleed” smoke. The spirit is cut off from the astral realm, cursed to wander among the living, and the smoke is coveted. It’s precious and worth more than any form of currency. The largest repository of spirit smoke is heavily guarded within the walls of the Brae Kingdom. With the numbers of spirit violence rising as of late, I’d say the only sure way to get them to come is to offer them the smoke of their lost brethren. It’s a perilous journey. Damn near a fool’s mission to pick spirit smoke off of the Brae.”

“Is there any other way?” Pond asks.

“Maybe we can trick the spirits,” Elora suggests. Huh. She must be much more out of sorts than I’d originally assumed. For a girl such as Elora who not only follows the rules to a fine degree of accuracy but also wrote them herself, to propose such an idea.

Ama lets out a laugh more bitter than I’d ever heard her make. It turns into a cough. One cough follows another and soon she’s having a fit. My chest twists at the sight. Elora’s fingers pinch into my side and I’m so distracted I don’t shoo her off. She probably needs something solid and tangible to grab onto to make sure she’s not dreaming. Ama, sturdy and more fit than any Creature her age, can barely support her own weight. It looks unnatural, to say the least.

Once Ama has finished and wiped the beads of saliva from the corner of her mouth, she sets herself up straight again, looking on Elora with soft, bemused eyes. “Tricking the spirits? The last time someone tried to trick the spirits and inevitably failed, he got stuck pushing a rock up a hill for eternity. My best bet is giving them the greatest offering I can conjure and beg for mercy. I’ve lived my life. I raised intelligent and self-sufficient children. My time is here, love. You’ll all get on without me.”

“I can’t believe you’d say that!” Elora fingers are still twisted in my side. That’s how I know she’s shaking as she says this, voice gone high and strained. “I don’t care how dangerous you say it is. I’m going. Even if I’m going by myself.”

As ill-timed the thought is, I can’t help but snort internally. Elora, the spoiled, proper princess she is, wouldn’t last a week on a journey like that. And say by some divine miracle she makes it to the gates of the Brae kingdom. How would she get in? How could she possibly convince guards to let her through? Ah, yes, I’m here to steal some of your finest sacred smoke. So, if you could just let me in that’d be delightful. The image is morbidly comedic.

‘Even if I go by myself’ is obviously our cue to chime in.

“You wouldn’t go by yourself.” I peel Elora’s fingers out of my side. “I’m going too, even if just to keep you from getting beheaded.”

“I knew it!” Elora squeals and attaches herself to my side once again, at which I grimace.

“And I suppose I should go as well.” Jacoby sighs and shrugs. “To keep you from beheading her.”

Pond looks between us and Ama, pupils trembling. “Someone should be tasked with staying with Ama, right? To make sure her condition doesn’t worsen.”

“Oh no.” Jacoby marches over to Pond and clamps a hand on his shoulder. “You’re coming with, little brother. One of the village ladies can watch over Ama. If you get killed or kidnapped because we left you alone, it will be going directly onto my conscious. Can’t have that.”

Attention back on the journal Ama is holding, I ask, “What is that book for? Is that where the spell is?”

“This thing?” Ama appraises it with a mysterious smile, before holding it in my direction. I take it. “It’s empty. If my children are going to journey into the Brae kingdom, I’d like a record of it.”

“Homework?” I sneer at the book, holding it out to my siblings. They all shake their heads, keeping their hands close to their bodies. Rolling my eyes, I huff. “Fine. I’ll record.”

“We should pack,” Jacoby says, looking around at all of us. Could we be having the same exact thought? What have we gotten ourselves into? We each give Ama a kiss before returning to our own rooms to ready for the journey. As soon as Elora and I get back to our room, we set to packing. Elora is pilfering through her dressing drawer and mulling over her options aloud. I tune her out, deciding to focus on my own thoughts.

What should criminals pack in their traveling bags? Perhaps some delicately cut fruit? Or fine pottery to spruce up our holding cell should we be caught? I think about such rancid things as I fold clothes atop my bed and tuck them in my burlap sack. I have time to do nothing but think as I’m preparing to leave my childhood home.

When I was a tiny three-year-old, my parents were murdered by men with strange symbols embroidered on their robes. The men must have deemed it unnecessary to kill me as well. A small thing left in the woods with no parents or any obvious resources, I would be handled soon enough. If not drug off by some animal, I’d be taken out by starvation or the elements. I was already as good as dealt with.

That’s when a large woman with a head of unruly lavender coils pulled into a high bun and striking eyes to match came stalking into the forest clearing where I’d been abandoned. She attempted to get words out of me. I refused to speak with her for 3 months.

One day she brought home a boy, not much older than myself. He had long black hair that grew almost as quickly as my nails. He had command over light energy. Jacoby.

Next came Pond with his brown freckles, red afro, and skittish mannerisms. When he wasn’t hiding from his own shadow, he called to the forest creatures.

And last strutted in Elora, with her overflowing presence, regal attitude, and ability to manipulate bodies of water. Her, I detested for months because she was as arrogant as they came. But, I found a way to make peace with her ego after some time.

My brothers, sister, and I have to find some way to sneak into the Brae kingdom, steal from the treasury, and make it back to Ama. Alive.

Easy.

Lastly, I tuck the red journal into my sack and tie it. This is the last time I’ll see my bed in a long while...if ever again. The final time I’ll be able to run my fingers along the thick stitches in my quilt. The one Ama made for me when I was a child. The morning after she brought this quilt to my bed, I spoke to her for the first time.

                                          ━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━

Beginning our journey with an argument is so typical that it hurts to think of what the rest of the way will be like. I sit on the side of the dirt road we’ve been walking down, next to Pond. My brother and I share some almonds as we watch our siblings fight.

“Well, we need to find some other way to get there.” Elora is puffing her chest out and waving her hands. Maybe to make herself bigger in front of Jacoby who towers above her. “I already have blisters on my feet. And my shoes are gonna get holes in them!”

Jacoby has gone red in the face out of anger. “Perhaps if you’d worn something practical, your delicate foot could take the wear on them. You brought those silly shoes on a journey and have the gall to be upset with me? Why can’t you think things through, Lora?! We’re on a quest to save Ama and you chose to dress as if a concession of performers might roll on by and pick you to join their troupe.”

“Oh, and if we actually make it to Brae, you think the guards are gonna just let you in? Dressed like a bear?” Elora rolls her eyes and fans her face with a dainty hand. “Somebody has to be dressed like they have a home to go back to.”

Listless in this sweltering heat, I don’t have the energy to care about her blanket insult. Jacoby and Elora bicker on like this for several minutes. I have half a mind to step in, when I hear something in the distance and stand. Pond gives me a strange look and might be fixing himself to ask what the matter is when I wave and shush him. Knowing very well I hear something, but not being able to make out what exactly, I shush my siblings more aggressively. Elora makes a noise in protest, but I give her a severe look. She pouts but goes silent. Then, we’re all listening. And the look I share with Jacoby tells me he hears it as well.

The clopping of horses hooves is difficult to hear in the dirt. But not impossible to a trained ear. We all huddle off to the side of the road, squeezing next to each behind the cluster of trees that line it. And just as we’re settled in obscurity, a horse-drawn carriage breaches the horizon. It draws closer.

The man holding the reigns urges the horses to a stop. He is smartly dressed in bright colors. He dismounts and walks around to the back of the carriage, unsheathing a knife from the holder at his side and pulling the door open. Out he drags a beautiful woman by her hair, as yellow as the sun and curly as I’ve ever seen. The dress she's wearing is extravagant, something only royalty can afford to wear. It is a deep blue with a soft-looking rouche.

Everything after that happens too fast to process. The smartly dressed man shoves the woman into the trees on the opposite side of the road to us. He drags her deeper and deeper until we can no longer see them. Pond shivers next to me. It isn’t from the cold.

I believe we’ve just witnessed a kidnap.

[ashywankenobi]

We found love in an empty bottle (Part 3)

Ben had been carefully avoiding her for over a week now. He only spoke to her while they trained, and never more than a few words. A numbness had settled over the bond that left Rey chilled and aching.

She had pushed him too far again. She wouldn’t apologize for what she had said. She was too stubborn, but she knew it wasn’t true. She missed him, as much as she loathed to admit it. His presence was something she was quietly used to.

She sat next to Finn and Poe in the mess hall, picking at her half eaten cinnamon roll. Her caff was uselessly cold at the point.

They watched her as she sighed heavily for about the tenth time. Finn kicked Poe under the table causing him to cry out. Finn raised an eyebrow and cocked his head towards Rey. She sighed again, unaware of what they were doing. Poe coughed, “Right. Hey Rey, they’re throwing a themed party tonight at the cantina if you’re interested.”

She perked up a bit, “Themed night?” She asked curiously, her interest piqued.

Finn smiled broadly, “Yeah, they do it every once in awhile. This one is masquerade. Everyone dresses fancy and wears a mask. Like a ball in a fairytale.”

Rey’s eyes lit up, “Really? Like a children’s story?”

Poe chuckled, “Yes, but with decidedly more alcohol.”

She bit her lip as she thought it over. “I haven’t anything to wear though.” She pouted slightly.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to find Leia beaming at her, “I may be able to help.”

—————

Leia’s rooms were big compared to her own quarters. They were finely furnished, Rey decided, as she ran her hand over the back of an armchair. Her own room was practical, nothing more than just the necessities.

Leia called over to her, “Coming Rey?” She followed the shorter woman into her bedroom. Leia stopped in front of an old looking wardrobe.

“I don’t know if I told you, but my birth mother was Queen of Naboo.” Rey shook her head in response as she watched her open the doors.

“One of her favorite places was a lakeside chateau, away from her busy palace life there. In it she kept quite an extensive collection of dresses.”

Rey was enraptured at the sight before her. Never had she seen that many dresses, in so many colors. She stepped forward, her mouth slightly open in awe. Leia smiled to herself as she watched Rey drag a hand down one of the dresses.

The scavenger in her knew that these dresses could set her up for a year or more at least. They had to be worth a fortune.

Leia pulled one from the back. It was pastel gown in shades that could match a sunset. The only ornaments adorned the halter style neck of the dress and armbands.

“I think this one would do for a dessert beauty such as yourself.”

Rey gaped at the woman, “No, I dare not. It’s much to…”

“Expensive? Fragile? Beautiful? I know how your mind works Rey. You won’t break the gown, and even if you did, it’s just fabric. It can be mended. Please, I won’t take no for an answer.”

Rey’s eyes welled with tears. Never had she experienced such kindness. Leia treated her as a daughter, and she could never understand what she had done to deserve this woman taking her under her wing as she had.

She threw her arms around Leia’s neck squeezing her tightly. “There, there dear. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You deserve the world. You are a remarkable young woman. Even my stubborn son thinks so.”

She looked up at Leia startled at her mentioning of Ben. Leia smiled conspicuously and winked at her.

“Lets get you ready for this party.”

—————-

By the time Leia had finished with her she barely recognized herself. The young woman in the mirror was breathtaking. She touched her hair that Leia had elaborately braided and piled on top of her head, and the girl in the mirror mimicked her motions. She blinked back at herself, amazed at the transformation.

“You look stunning,” Leia said as she beamed at her. She rummaged in the bottom of the wardrobe, before returning with a few things.

“Here are a pair of flat slippers that should fit you. Won’t have you breaking your neck trying out heels for the first time.”

Rey giggled nervously as she slipped her feet into the shoes Leia had set down for her.

Leia pulled a sheer piece of ribbon in front of her eyes, and fastened it behind her head.

“There,” she said, stepping back to admire her work. Rey glanced at herself again. She had never worn make up before and frowned slightly at the painted face.

“I kept it natural, dear. No one will think it’s too much.”

“Are you sure?” She asked as she bit her lip and fiddled nervously with her gown.

“Absolutely,” she beamed at her, “Now go, and enjoy yourself.”

Rey kissed Leia’s cheek and squeezed her hand.

—————-

The cantina had been transformed. Glowing orbs hung everywhere, most of the tables had been moved and replaced by high tops, and there was a wide open space for dancing.

There were already a few people gathered. As she made her way into the room, she craned her neck to find Finn and Poe. They were closest to the bar. As she headed in their direction everyone parted for her. She blushed self consciously as she was met with the stares of everyone gathered.

“Hey,” she said breathlessly as she stood in front of the pair. They stared at her wide-eyed for a moment, Finn’s mouth opened and closed a few times. Poe smiled broadly and excitedly said, “Dibs!”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, and quickly found herself in his arms being twirled around the dance floor as the band started playing.

She laughed loudly as he spun her around. “I’ve never danced before,” she yelled to him.

“You’d never know it,” he complimented her as he twirled her again.

More people began to join the dance. Finn and Jessika twirled nearby. Finn leaned over and asked, “Switch?”

Poe and Rey happily obliged. Finn grasped Rey’s hand and held her closely around her waist.

“You look so beautiful Rey,” he said, “Leia did a spectacular job.” Rey blushed a deep crimson.

“Come off it,” she scoffed.

His expression softened, “Really and truly.”

She smiled back at him as they continued dancing. Poe and Jessika came to a stop near them.

“How about a drink?” Jessika asked.

Rey nodded vigorously.

They made their way back over to the bar. Rey watched the general splendor around her. Never in her life had she experienced anything like this, and with her dearest friends. Her heart felt too big for her chest.

She felt her skin begin to tingle, and caught a glimpse of a shock of dark hair in the crowd.

No, he wouldn’t, she thought to herself. She shook her head and went back to listening to her friends.

An arm encompassed her waist and pulled her back against a hard body.

Ben, she thought, as her heart leapt into her throat.

“You look exquisite,” he murmured into her ear as his lips brushed her neck just below.

She gasped slightly as his other hand came to her shoulder.

“Dance with me,” he asked her huskily.

She turned and swallowed as she nodded yes.

He led her out to the dance floor, his arm possessively wrapped around her waist. His other hand held hers tightly as they began to dance.

She tried to inconspicuously look him over. He wore the black leather pants and black long sleeve shirt he had once worn as Kylo Ren. The only difference was the mask. This must’ve been a scrap from his old cape. Holes for his eyes were cut into it. He smirked at her as he caught her looking.

She blushed and quickly looked away. He chuckled and leaned down and rested his lips against her ear, “Do you like what you see?” He teased her.

She snorted and looked away. They swayed and twirled with the music.

“You broke my heart, you know,” he stated nonchalantly. She glared at him affronted, “I broke your heart?” She asked incredulously.

He pouted and slightly nodded his head. She shook hers, “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered. “Why are you even here?” She demanded, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Mother attempted to hint at your presence here. I had to see the Scavenger turned Princess myself.”

She gasped and narrowed her eyes at him, “Are we done?” She asked, her annoyance flaring through the bond.

“Not nearly,” he growled as he held her tighter. He danced them to the doors and pulled her out of the base and towards the woods.

“What is it you think you’re doing,” she asked as she struggled to navigate the forest in her dress.

“We’ll never make it there with you in this damned dress,” he snapped as he stopped and scooped her into his arms.

“Oi,” she cried out, “I can walk.”

“Hardly,” he quipped.

She huffed and locked her arms around his neck.

“Will you tell me now?” She asked quietly.

He nuzzled her neck, “Don’t ruin my surprise.”

He carried her past the clearing and further up the hill. She wondered idly how he could possibly be able to hold her this long. She had to be heavy in this gown.

They broke through another tree line and she gasped at what she saw. There were pools of water scattered all over the top of the hill. The planet’s moon shone brightly without the tree cover. He set her down and grasped her hand as he pulled her towards the water.

“Ben, what is this?” She asked in awe.

“Hot springs,” he replied excitedly.

She watched him as he began to build a small fire next to one of the pools. Once he was satisfied, he stood and walked towards her. He took her hands in his.

“How about a bath?” He asked.

“Leia’s dress,” she began, before he cut her off, “Will be fine,” he finished.

She was scared. Of him and everything he was making her feel. She closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath, but found it swallowed by Ben’s lips. He pulled her closer to him by her waist. His hand threaded into the hair that was gathered at her nape. Her lips melded perfectly against his. He pulled back and gazed at her.

“Tell me to stop,” he husked, his eyes glazed over with want. “Tell me to leave you and I will.”

She looked up at him her want and panic slipping through the bond. “I can’t,” she whispered. “Then don’t,” he commanded as he took her lips again.

She wrapped her arms around him, grasping his muscles through his shirt. Their tongues met and rolled against one another. Ben groaned as her hands met the waist of his pants.

She grasped his shirt and pulled upwards. He broke the kiss and happily obliged her as his shirt was pulled over his head.

Their lips crashed against one another again. She tugged on his pants, her fingers fumbling with his zipper. She pushed his pants down his waist, his cock springing free.

He lifted her up as she wrapped her legs around him. He backed up to the smooth rocks that lined the pools and sat with her in his lap.

His cock rubbing against her as she ground herself against him, moaning at the friction. He moved his hand down to rub her clit. Rey moaned loudly out into the night.

Ben moved his hand to insert a finger into her entrance. “So wet,” he breathed into her ear. He moved her so that the tip of his cock was positioned at her opening.

“Leia’s dress,” she gasped against his lips. “It’ll be fine,” he growled as he pushed her down onto his length.

Rey arched her back and cried out at the fullness she felt. “I want all of you Rey,” he said as he tapped her temple, his finger trailing down her face.

She slowly opened their bond, and Ben choked as the well of emotions spilled over to him.

“Rey,” he rasped as he gripped her tightly.

She began to move with his guidance. His hands held her hips as she moved up and down his length.

“Stars Ben,” she whispered as they continued their languid pace.

“Why do you deny yourself, Rey?” Ben asked as he wrapped his arms around her and began thrusting into her harder. “You were made to be mine. I knew it the day I took you. I had to make you mine.”

She moaned into his ear, her heart beating rapidly at his declaration.

“I can’t,” she said weakly.

He thrust into her harder. “You can’t?” He asked roughly.

“No,” she croaked as he bucked into her.

His hand moved down her body to rest along her backside. He hiked up her dress until he felt the bare skin of her ass.

“Tell me no again Rey,” he challenged her. She looked at him, her eyes half closed in pleasure.

“No,” she whispered.

His hand flew back and slapped against her with a resounding clap.

She stared at him stunned, as a yelp escaped her throat. It was a heady mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Again,” she ordered him.

Once more he swung back and slapped her, causing her to jolt forward. Her walls clenched around him. She moaned loudly.

“Only I know what you need Rey. No one knows us better than ourselves. If you’ll have me, know that I’ll follow you to the ends of the galaxy. I’ll always be bound to you.”

He slapped her again. Her lewd moans filling the air.

His thrusts picked up pace, with her holding on to him tightly.

“Harder,” she begged.

He picked her up and switched their positions. She lay flat against the rock as he rutted into her. She screamed his name as she came, her whole body quaking as her orgasim ripped through her.

He clenched his teeth and growled out as he shot ribbons of pleasure deep into her.

They held each other as they shook from the effects of their shared pleasure. When he pulled back his gaze had softened. “Stay. Come have a bath?” He asked again, desperation shining in his eyes.

Rey bit her lip, and slowly nodded her assent.

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

Thank you so much for reading!

In case you missed PART 1 and PART 2 here are the links:

http://ashleyn7790.tumblr.com/post/160689942025/we-found-love-in-an-empty-bottle

http://ashleyn7790.tumblr.com/post/161537439865/we-found-love-in-an-empty-bottle-part-2

[judahcdbk385-blog]

The 32 piece presser foot set Diaries

Great embroidery stitches, Perfect tucks and a touch cannot be accomplished without the assistance of presser feet. Gone are the days where an extra effort was needed to create clothing. Thanks to good inventions, you can now grab the 32 part presser foot that is revolutionary set and provide your sewing a fresh turn. The presser foot is an attachment that is used on sewing machines to hold the cloth when it is being sewn. All of them bear names that are different and there are many diverse types of presser feet and have their functions that are different. Presser feet come in 3 different types: low shank, shank that is higher and the shank. Shank is the needle bar's title. So the needle bar is what dictates the kind of presser feet to get. They may be long, short or slanted. A low shank machine takes only low shank presser foot and it is the same for the others. Some are also available in plastic although feet are made out of metal. Presser feet's functions are: first, to maintain the substance when sewing, for producing a finish, for adding elements and for adding elements like buttons, zippers, and piping. Together with the presser foot, it is simpler to create your http://query.nytimes.com/search/sitesearch/?action=click&contentCollection&region=TopBar&WT.nav=searchWidget&module=SearchSubmit&pgtype=Homepage#/32 piece presser foot set distinctive work without duplicating the work of someone else. In a presser foot place, you'll find everything you will need for a perfect work. The 32 piece presser foot set, for instance, is built to fit major sewing machine brands such as others and Singer, Janome, Brother, Neechi, Elna, Viking and compact with the feet needed for your own sewing. Which Are the Fundamental Presser Feet? For sewing, you locate these: • The foot • The walking foot, also Called the even feed foot • The presser foot that is zigzag • The zipper foot • Open toe foot • All-purpose foot • Buttonhole foot • Button sewing foot • Cording foot • Hemming feet • Gathering foot • Darning foot and more. Each one of them has the functions. Functions of the Different Presser Feet. The all-purpose presser foot: This type of presser foot has other names such as presser foot that is universal, regular presser foot, and purpose presser foot. This type is flexible and can be used for sewing. It is great for all sewing and can do stitches. This foot has foot leveler and a wide needle hole when you wish to sew on thick fabrics, which you push. The right presser foot: This kind of presser foot is used for sewing only stitches. Its needle to break may be caused by applying it for something apart from straight stitches. It is suitable for stitching heavy fabrics also. The presser foot: this kind of presser foot can be utilized for zigzag stitches and it is made somewhat wider than the foot but may be used for straight stitching. They are in either plastic or metal because it gives them control and reliability when performing designs, but the majority of folks prefer it in vinyl. It can also be used for embroidery and applique. The foot called the feed foot, it is designed for sewing multiple layers of cloth while maintaining speed and total control of the upper layer fabric and the lower layer fabric. It does so with the assistance of feed dogs in the sewing machine that makes them appear even and pushes through the fabrics concurrently; hence, its title- feed. This foot is excellent for quilting. The zipper toes: there are different types of foots out there for the types of zippers, When it comes to zipping. There's the zipper foot, the super slim zipper foot, the zipper foot that is adjustable along with the zipper foot. The two-sided zipper foot snaps on either the right or left side rather than the centre. This sort of foot enables you to get closer than even the normal zipper foot or the foot. The slim zipper foot is a lot thinner than the regular snap on zipper foot. With this foot, the needle is put close and holds your fabric as you stitch. It's more easy to insert press claws and zippers . The flexible zipper foot is your zipper foot which can be corrected and allows you to sew on the right side or on the middle of the zipper for easier stitching. The invisible zipper foot, also called the zipper foot positions the stitches and includes two tunnels that coils or the stitches traveling beneath so that they don't appear on the front of the garment and creating stitching onto an invisible zipper. The button sewing foot: This foot is used to sew buttons on clothing with all the machine. It is used with the feed puppies and with the machine set in a width that contrasts with the buttonholes and that will also allow the needle go down the holes of all the sewing machine. The foot: This foot helps make buttonholes with accuracy. They can be made manually or mechanically. The buttonhole foot comes in two types: the sliding buttonhole foot along with also the automatic buttonhole foot. While the automatic one does it at a step a buttonhole is created by the one in four measures. They are marked with dimensions that help you reproduce buttonholes and create buttonholes. While the hole has been stitched the framework on the buttonhole foot that is slipping provides guidance for the fabric. With this foot, you make the holes at the measures and assess the button. Having a lever in only one step, holes are made together with the buttonhole foot. Open toe applique foot: This seems like the foot but has a broader stitching area along with a plastic which guarantees visibility when stitching. It has feet compared to the foot. It's perfect for applique and embroidery and intricate design work. It's also called the open toe embroidery foot. Cording feet: The foot is used to sew string over garments and other items such as cushions, cushions and furniture covers. Just one stitch isn't revealed by them when they are used. There are different types of cording feet available for different quantities of cords. There's the 1 hole cording foot, 5 hole and 7 hole. The Hemming's feet: you will find the blind hem foot along with the hem foot For hemming. The hem foot is perfect for narrow hemstitching. Narrow hems are fantastic for delicate fabrics like silk and chiffon because the foot makes it more easy to handle such cloths without a hassle and automatically curls the hem. The blind hem stitch is good for stitching hems on skirts and dresses instead of stitching together with the hand. Pin tuck foot: This employed for pin tucking and can be used with a twin needle. There are pin tuck feet with distinct hole or shapes and tunnels. There are 7 tunnels or pin tuck foot and also the 9 tunnel pin tuck foot. The pin tuck foot allows for precision spacing of pin tucks. Gathering foot and ruffling foot: This foot is used to make gathers and ruffles on skirts and tops. The longer you stitch, the more gathers you're getting. The foot that is ruffling is. They create heavier and fuller gathers. The amassing foot has two slots: one for gathering and another for a fabric that is flat which you are able to sew on the accumulates. Piping foot: This is used on piping for accessories and upholstery. This foot ensures appropriate positioning of piping and they come in various sizes.

Quarter inch quilting foot: This can also be referred to as the patchwork foot. It's great for routine and freehand stitching and made to assist sew with multiple layers simultaneously. It has a metal pub guide which keeps the fabrics. It's made for easy pivoting that helps maintain the seams equal and to achieve a precise 1/4 seam allowance.

Satin Stitch foot: This can also be known as the foot. It is used for decorative and embroidery stitches. It appears like a foot but that one is wider and has a tunnel for stitching that is smooth. Darning foot: The darning foot is built. The presser foot goes up as soon as the needle moves. There's an open toe edition of the darner foot which gives visibility. This is used for decoration on quilts and embroidery work. There are other presser feet that are created for a specialty. The roller or Teflon foot, the binder foot that is flexible, the braiding foot and the edge. The Teflon can be used to produce stitches on fabrics such as here denim. The roller foot features a roller attached which rolls on top of even cloth surfaces. The bias binder foot is used for attaching bias with ease, the braiding can be utilized for attaching cords, braids and ribbons and the edge joining is utilized to earn edge. Presser feet are beneficial in making sewing simpler. They are not easily breakable and durable and can be readily replaced when lost. Once you understand the kind of presser feet you need for the machine shank, slanted or non shanks, you'll be able to find what you want at a shop. You can not keep piling function in your room. Get this 32 piece presser foot set and enjoy a stitching.

[mundaneapocalypse]

Erik’s Mother on Wer Hair

Erik brought over a recipe he says, “My mother tortured us with through our hair problems.” It has notes, too, from his mother. He says all wer fur behaves basically the same way, but it can vary slightly from, say, werewolf to werlion to centaur. This is what she wrote, translated into English:

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For the shampoo:

1 cup boiled and cooled beer

1 cup ground oats

1 cup sugar

1 ½ cups coconut milk

2 beaten egg yolks

2 tablespoons honey

2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar

1 tablespoon lemon juice

1 tablespoon castor oil

1 tablespoon aloe vera

1 teaspoon cedarwood essential oil

1 teaspoon lavender essential oil

1 teaspoon peppermint essential oil

Wet Marmalade’s hair wet with plain warm water, rub the mix into her hair until it can stand on its own, and leave it for fifteen minutes. Rinse it out, comb her hair, and rub the conditioner into it:

1 tablespoon aloe vera

1 tablespoon coconut oil

It can be rinsed out in the morning.

Also use the conditioner like lotion after every bath, especially in the cold weather. In the cold weather, also bath her in this once a month:

1 cup oatmeal

1 cup salt

1 tablespoon honey

1 tablespoon aloe vera

milk to make a batter the consistency of a cookie batter

Lukewarm water is better than warm for a sloughing child. She will slough more hair near the full moon, and in the spring, but unless she is sick, it will be replaced immediately with long hair, as yours does. Her hair may grow as long as a wight’s with the proper care.

Brush her hair in sections with a fine tooth comb--begin at the ends, but when you reach the roots, dig into them and brush down to the ends. Instead of braiding or tying up her hair, tie a loose tassel with a ribbon, or tuck it under a kerchief. Anything else may break her hair.

After two or three months, have a hairdresser cut her hair into layers starting with the shortest hairs to remove the split ends. Continue treating her hair. Trim the layers just 1/8-inch every two months, and she will have lovely hair.

When the shortest hair reaches her earlobe, French braids and Dutch braids look the best, and you can easily hide the ends with bobby pins and hair paste [hairspray].

Every six weeks, trim her hair 1/8-inch, section it, and brush her hair for several minutes with a fine tooth comb before washing it. Wash it twice, once with the shampoo and once with just salt and water, to remove dry skin, oil, and the lotions and pastes.

Braids are easiest until the shortest layer reaches her shoulders. Twists are also good if she cannot sit still long enough for a braid. You can also make tassels [ponytails] in her hair from shortest to longest, increasing the size as the hair increases, and end with a large tassel at the nape of her neck.

Twists and tassels fall out more easily than braids, but are faster. You can wash her hair while it is up, and it will take several hours to dry. When they are dry, repair any that look bad, and smooth down her hair with equal parts wax and aloe vera. You will not have to comb her hair.

When you do her hair, section her hair, and each section at a time, rub some wax into her hair and brush it with a bristle brush. Begin at her forehead and continue down. Braid it, and tie it about half an inch below the braid with a loop [pony tail band]. Do not use a metal loop, which breaks her hair, or a clip. Hold the braids together at her neck and tie them with a loop. Slide the others out of her hair. The loose space between the bread and the loop will let her hair relax enough to prevent breaking. At night, tuck her hair up in a silk or satin kerchief. Change the kerchief every night. Cotton, linen, and wool can chafe the hair.

They are very pretty like a headband or cap. The roots should be slightly loose, not flat against her head. If you cannot fit a pencil between her scalp and the braid, it is too tight.

Cap styles can last two weeks nicely, if you continue to condition her scalp with the lotion and apply paste. After two weeks, they will frizz and slip out. Mine last for nineteen days if I am careful. If she has curly hair, they will last a little longer. Some werlions can wear their caps for a month, easily. They should not be left in longer than that or they mat and you will have to shave her head.

I also trim out the layers gradually, and it makes any hairstyle easier and tidier. With even hair, you can do any style you would give a wight girl, but when her hair is growing in, you cannot trim her hair to an even length without cutting it all off.

Brushing a cap will ruin it. Tight sections will break her hair, but they should be tight enough to stay in place for at least a few days, because they take so long.

Part her hair into several sections. I prefer to braid straight back from her forehead, but others braid from the ears, or make small squares or circles of hair to braid as if it was a full head of hair. The roots should be loose, but the hair firm and tight. If the braid hurts, it is far too tight.

In a young child, headbands are not as practical, because the layers are mostly uncontained. You can make a headband like you would for your own hair. For older girls, you may continue braiding beyond her ear to make a crown, and use the long braid like a loop, as you would wear it. Older girls may have a couple braids, or young girls may have several small ones, and women often wear this instead of a bun.

Anything except loose hair will look bad until her shortest hair is about shoulder length, but then I think a cap or headband with one or two tassels or loose hair down her back are most appropriate for a little girl. Ribbons, beads, or clips worked into the style, and elaborate designs, are best for mature girls on special occasions and women however it fits the occasion. Hair ribbons to hold the ends are fine. I let my daughters have braided or twisted hair down their backs when they are about ten, as then their hair is long enough for it to look decent. Curling hair is fine, if it is heatless. I prefer my daughters not to curl their hair when they are young, but I allow them when they are fifteen or sixteen. They might earlier for special occasions, if their hair is long enough.