#you don’t have to watch gold: a fistful of gold first to understand this one

[saxophone-cat]

Gold: The Dynamiters

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Market Day

Thank you to @spacebarbarianweird for the Astarion x barbarian!Tav headcanons that inspired this fic!!

Summary: You drag some of your companions to the market to restock on supplies and run into a little spot of trouble

Today was Market Day, as you had come to coin it, where you and your companions would visit a nearby market to purchase various supplies, whether it be food, drink, weapons, potions, or anything anyone happened to need. With a slight skip in your step, you make your way into the marketplace, dragging along a weary vampire, a less than interested cleric and a very very reluctant wizard who wanted nothing more than to be fast asleep in his bedroll or be buried deep in a musty book.

“I don’t understand how you can be so cheerful this early in the morning,” Gale yawns, rubbing his eyes.

“Why was I chosen over Lae’zel to come along?” Shadowheart groans, dragging her feet along. Astarion looked the most alive among the three but you could tell he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“It’s a bright and sunny morning! There’s no better time than now to get all our shopping done!” You cheer, pumping your fist in the air.

“Why didn’t you invite Karlach along if you wanted some life in the party?” Astarion rolls his eyes, folding his arms across his chest. The market is rather quiet today, much to his distaste, for it meant there were less pockets to…well…pick. To you however, the lack of a crowd meant that there was more time to peruse the wares available without the person queuing behind you breathing down your neck to hurry it up, so you were more than happy about it.

“But I can be the life of the party!” You huff, giving him a pout. He should never have taught you how to gives puppy dog eyes, Astarion thinks to himself, watching as you give him your best shot at said eyes. He sighs in response, knowing you will never let this matter rest until he agrees with you and numbly nods.

“Of course you can, darling. Now, don’t we have quite a bit of shopping to do?”

With that, you’re off, heading towards the butcher while the others go their own ways to various shops of interest. Gale, to no one’s surprise, heads straight for the merchant selling a bunch of magical items while Shadowheart meanders around until a particular store selling carvings of the various gods catches her eye and she makes a beeline towards it. Astarion, meanwhile, looks for his first pocket to pick and eyes a rather wealthy human strutting around that made for easy pickings.

You quickly gather all the food items on the list and shove them all into your backpack, proud of the bargains you had made on your own. Astarion had been teaching you how to haggle, and although you were a slow learner, you were steadily getting better at it. Today proved as much. You couldn’t wait to tell him about the discount you had haggled from the fruit merchant and show him all his teachings hadn’t been for naught. As you made your way to Astarion who was at the other end of the market, something caught your eye — black leather bound book with words you couldn’t quite make out in gold lettering.

You go to take a closer look, curious. Did Astarion have this book? You don’t remember seeing such a cover before, would he appreciate the book? You weren’t even sure about the contents of the book, words always proved a challenge and you hated how you couldn’t just beat the words into submission so that you could read them.

“You can’t just beat up every problem you come across!” Astarion exlaimed when you angrily swore at the paragraph he had been trying to teach you to read.

“Everything would be so much easier if I could.” You huffed in response.

“Some things require a little more finesse, darling. Don’t you worry your beautiful self, leave such things to me.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead with a small smile.

The fond memory caused the corners of your lips to quirk up. Astarion had never once blamed you for struggling with learning how to read, he had been patient, as patient as he could be but had given up some time after. He had never pressed you to learn to read afterwards, instead he did all the reading for you which you very much preferred as you got to hear his melodious voice while understanding whatever was scrawled on the pages of the book you had looted from a corpse because you found the cover pretty.

“Didn’t know barbarians knew how to read, I thought they were all brawns and no brain.” A sneer comes from your right. The merchant selling the book you were looking at gives you a look of disgust and snatches it out of your grasp.

“Get your grubby hands off my wares,” he spits, “someone who lacks the intelligence needed to understand such fine craft shouldn’t be here in the first place.”

You scowl at him, a low rumbling erupting from your throat, “I may not be able to read but I sure as hells can understand what you’re saying.”

“The creature speaks!” The merchant feigns a gasp of surprise. You snarl, a hand moving towards your axe when a cold hand gently rests on your hand. Astarion meets your gaze, giving a small shake of his head and puts himself in between you and the merchant.

“It seems intelligence and basic common courtesy does not go hand in hand,” he says nonchalantly, but poison drips from every word. “To think a man so well-learned would only have the manners of a beast.”

The merchant glares at him but Astarion calmly looks them in the eye, a fake smile gracing his lips, “am I wrong?”

“This is none of your business, elf,” the merchant hisses.

“Oh, but the moment you insulted my lover, it became my business.” His unnerving smile remains plastered to his face, unsettling the merchant who was slowly losing confidence. “Now then, may I see this fine craft of yours?”

“Leave at once! You’re ruining my business!” The merchant snaps. “And I suggest getting yourself a better lover, maybe one not as daft as that barbarian.”

Astarion’s ruby eyes widen, a hand reaching for his dagger but you beat him to it. You grab the nearest and heaviest book you can find and slam it hard into the merchant’s face, “you can have your damned fine craft back! I don’t need it! I’d rather be illiterate than have to resort to insulting others to feel better about myself!”

Astarion chuckles, swiping a few books that caught his eye before grabbing the book you had been eyeing as well as your wrist and pulled you along, “come on, we better leave before the guards come to investigate the commotion.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” The two of you make a quick escape, disappearing into the nearby town before the authorities could catch either of you, giggling all the way.

Once Astarion is sure you’re far enough, he rounds the corner and stops to allow you to catch your breath. You pant, bending over with your hands on your knees but you’re grinning the widest grin you can muster.

“That! Was! Satisfying! You can beat up every problem you come across!” You laugh. Astarion doesn’t even bother to hide his smile, the merchant had deserved that blow to the face and better yet, had been robbed of some of his most prized wares.

“They had it coming,” he snorts, ruffling your hair. “We head back for the others once the heat has died down.”

“I’m sorry for ruining your shopping,” you rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

“It’s quite alright darling, I had finished pickpocketing all the rich people in the maket anyways.” Astarion waves a hand dismissively.

“Astarion!”

“I had quite the haul even, who knew there were so many gold necklaces just lying around unattended.”

“They were attended!”

“Well, clearly not attended enough.” He fishes one out and holds it out to you. “What do you think of this one?”

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe, tracing a finger along the precious chain.

“May I?” He holds out a hand to you and you gently place the necklace into his outstretched hand. He gestures for you to turn around and you comply, twiddling your fingers nervously. Would you looks good in it? It was definitely a very expensive necklace, something that should not lie on the necks of the likes of you and would sell for a large amount of gold but Astarion had chosen to slip it around your neck, a look of satisfaction clear on his face when he had you turn around so that he could admire his handiwork.

“Perfect. I knew it would look good on you, my taste is impeccable.” He crows. “I also have a dress for you, but that will have to wait until we’re back at camp, unless…”

“Back at camp back at camp!” You squawk, cheeks quickly heating up. Astarion leans in to press a quick peck to your lips, slipping his hand into yours.

“As you wish, my darling barbarian.”

[clockwork-ashes]

Daylight

The smallest of stones, the greatest of ripples.

Summary: Eris learns that Lucien is not Beron's son (one-shot).

Eris paced the small room, his steps soundless. Barefoot, ready for bed, cold rough stone to warm soft carpet. Over and over, again and again, a comfort. 

The smell of copper, sharp like night blooming flowers, hung in the air. Eris noticed that he had bitten through the inside of his cheek. He traced the wound with his tongue, the salt and metal of his blood enough to ground him, to clear his mind.  

Eris took a deep breath. He knew all the flames of this world, it was his birthright. Centuries he had lived, had witnessed much, gained enough wisdom. 

Eyes like gold, glowing unlike any fire made of Autumn, Eris had seen only a glimpse of it and had known. Magic was ancient, but simple, responding like a trained hound to those who had taken the time to learn its secrets. Stoked to life in the court he had been raised in, Eris would have recognised the flames as his own. 

Daylight. 

Sunbright, lovely, Lucien’s eyes had been twin stars in the darkness. 

It had taken every ounce of self control Eris possessed not to rear back at the sight, a death sentence. 

An oath taken, a promise made in blood, Eris had nearly forgotten. His mother’s hands, claws as she had gripped his arm, begged her eldest son to grant her strange request. Everything had been made clear as Eris had silently watched the Lady of Autumn gently stroke Lucien’s curls from his face, eyes half-lidded and gold only like sunlight could be. 

Small for his age and precious as all fae children were, Lucien was coddled by everyone in the Forest House.  

Half a decade, nothing in the grand scheme of things, and yet enough to change everything. The smallest of stones, the greatest of ripples. 

The flames in the fireplace flared, Eris tugged at the short strands of blood red hair at the nape of his neck. He felt like he was drowning, his head already below the water’s surface, Eris choked on his own fear. 

“Eris, please.” His mother’s voice was quiet, a tremor in her words as she took to begging him once more. For what, Eris did not know, and in the moment he could not be bothered to care. 

Eris whirled around to face her, smaller than he remembered, the Lady of Autumn looked up at her son. His fear was reflected in her eyes, the weight of knowing that an executioner’s axe hung just above Lucien’s head. 

“How could you?” Eris snarled, the words biting, accusatory. Never had he spoken to his mother in such a way, the softest of tones always reserved for her. 

She shook her head, loose strands falling from her braid and framing her thin face. Defeated, her shoulders curved as she curled in on herself. Eris hoped she felt guilty. “You wouldn’t understand,” she murmured, dismissive and soft.

A strangled laugh, short and unamused, was dragged from deep within Eris. His mother took a careful step towards him, and Eris took a measured step back. Closer in age than half his brothers, Eris had always understood the Lady of Autumn. “Six sons were not enough?” Eris snapped harshly.

“All children are a blessing,” she did not look at Eris as she said it, more to herself than to him anyway. 

Eris wondered if those were the words his mother had told herself when she had first married the High Lord. A half truth quietly whispered when she had been alone, but not entirely convincing despite how often it was said.   

“A fate worse than death awaits him,” Eris argued, sure that flames had come to life in his amber eyes, voice louder. “You’re lucky father is in Spring, or Lucien would be dead already.”

“You don’t know that,” hands clenched into fists at her side, the Lady of Autumn raised her own voice to match.

Eris felt as the temperature in the room changed, uncomfortably hot, the flames in the fireplace and in the torches along the wall responding to the raging emotions of them both. “It’s cruel,” he hissed, “it’s wrong.” 

A child born of an affair, Lucien was well and truly doomed, and who else was Eris to blame but the Lady of the Autumn Court.

“And you know much about cruelty,” the condemnation was clear in the tone his mother used. 

If Eris had taken a moment to think, to consider how worried and frightened she was, perhaps he would have known to stop their argument. Instead, Eris pointed a shaking finger, angry, at the female that had raised him as best she knew how. “And whose fault is that?” The question was bitter, all poison, meant to hurt. 

“You can be so much like your father.” 

The last word a growl, the statement hung between them. Eris would have rather she had taken a knife to his chest. 

Almost as though the Lady of Autumn had struck him, Eris flinched back. 

With a startled gasp, eyes wide in shock and lips parted, his mother put out her hand. Regret, clear as river water, flashed on her sharp features. But the words had been said. “Eris,” she took a step towards him, “I didn’t–” 

The door opened suddenly, the ancient hinges screaming in protest, cutting her sentence short. Eris was glad for it, wished he had not come home, would have preferred the war camps to this. 

Eris had assumed the door was locked, panic coursed through his veins as he wondered who might have heard. Relief, like rain during a drought, came over Eris as Lucien walked into the room. Only the crackling of the fire could be heard, Eris and his mother silent. 

Eyes half shut with sleep, russet once more, Lucien dragged his bare feet along with a small blanket behind him. Eris watched as he rubbed at his eyes with one hand, as he broke into a little yawn.

“Ris?” He mumbled, voice heavy. “I thought I heard your voice.” 

Eris watched as his mother moved towards her youngest son, expecting him to go to her. Instead, Lucien made his way to Eris, nearly tripping on the blanket he had brought with him. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Eris barely recognised his own voice. 

With a half-hearted shrug, Lucien knocked into Eris’s legs. “I heard you talking in the hall,” another yawn before he continued, “You didn’t come say goodnight.” Completely trusting and entirely unaware of all that had happened moments before he had entered the room, Lucien clung to Eris. 

The Lady of Autumn watched with wary eyes as Eris lifted Lucien into his arms gently. “Let’s get you back to bed.” He murmured. 

Lucien merely hummed his response, tired. Resting his head on Eris’s shoulder, his breaths slowing once more. 

Eris could see the pleading on his mother’s face, but he did not look at her long. He turned his attention to the arched window, watching the first rays of the sun inching over the horizon.  

Daylight.

[greenbergwrites]

oh wait wait wait hang on one more

temple attendant steve, dressed in wispy white tunics, quietly cleaning and caring for the temple and the supplicants by day, always so sweet and tender for the people coming to beg the god for children or whatever other things they are praying for

and by night getting thoroughly railed by his hungry god

I wrote like 1500 words to this and my computer decided it did not want to work properly anymore. I managed to rewrite what I’d lost and then get to this point before my computer decided to stop working completely. I had to wait to post this at work XD

So. Like. I meant to change the way it ends or at least write more but I don’t know when I’ll get the home computer situation fixed so I figured I’d just throw it up here for your enjoyment.

It is weirdly angsty, Bucky is hardly in it, and it's minor character focused for something that was supposed to be a porn prompt. But I still like it.

Warnings for a famine situation and all that goes with it and mentions of fertility issues.

Also, if anyone can’t tell, I’ve been scouring my inbox all week for goodies. This one’s from 2022 based on this post and then this story.

Alpha Fertility God Bucky, Take #2

–

Steve was born an Omega runt and we’re not going to enlighten this ‘verse, either, so that’s bad. His birth pack gives him to the temple as a babe and that’s where he grows up.

He could grow up bitter and angry, but he doesn’t. Somehow, he turns out kind.

Each morning, he is the first to greet his Alpha Lord in the temple. The sun’s rays have barely peeked over the horizon when he slips through the columns of the great hall, heading toward a smaller back chamber.

In his teens, the birth rate in the village rose for several years. During that time, the temple saw a boom. The priests received enough money to enlarge the temple and build a new statue of their god, one seated on a huge dais, glittering gold and taking up most of the wall.

Steve does not approach this statue, though he takes the time to pause and bow to it as he walks.

No, the statue he greets every morning is the one that had been there when he’d been given to the temple. It’s in a small chamber now facing the eastern horizon.

Some of the younger attendants call it the morning god for the way its bathed in light each sunrise. 

Steve carries with him a tray, which he sets at the statue’s feet.

The first step in his morning ritual is to kiss the statue on each cheek.

“Good morning, my Lord Alpha,” he murmurs, bending to light the incense. “Did you sleep well?”

Statues do not sleep, of course, but Steve always asks. He hopes that perhaps, somewhere in the great universe, his lord hears a whisper on the wind and knows that someone cares.

The incense burning, Steve picks up a small, decorative bowl filled with perfumed water. Dipping two fingers into it, Steve sets about spread the perfume upon the statue.

When he was a child, he watched the High Priests perform this ceremony to this very statue each morning. Now, they do it to the new statue, but they wait until the doors are open and the village people can witness their dedication.

It is a show performed for the peace of mind of the villagers. This is not a show. It is worship.

“The drought continues,” he says as he works. “Three weeks since the last rain. The farmers worry too much of the food will rot in the fields and we won’t have enough for winter.”

The statue perfumed, he sets down the bowl and opens the last item on the tray: a small cloth tied into a knot. Inside is a small chunk of bread and cheese, the two of items together no bigger than his fist.

“We’re asked to reduce our offerings,” he continues. “I understand. Babes need food and I think you would rather see them eat. But I cannot let you go hungry, so I brought you this. It’s from my breakfast, so no one will will suffer.”

With everything set out, Steve kneels once more, closing his eyes as he leans his cheek against the statue’s knee. He stays there, allowing himself this peace, until the sun warms his back and he hears others in the great hall. Only then does he begin his day.

He began temple life as a cleaner. It is the easiest job for children and the attendants were always good about keeping them away from the statues when they were too young to comprehend. 

He did that job well, but the problem with cleaning is it is a mindless task. It was so easy to listen in on what was being said around him and through that, he heard the pain of the people in the village. What was he to do but offer comfort?

Too many times being caught by the priests and finally, they made it his job. He now helped the villagers with their offerings, listened to their stories, offered whatever comfort he could. 

It was not much in the grand scheme of things, but it mattered. It was a job he could be proud of.

When the great doors opened, the first thing Steve hears is the familiar sound of a wooden cane striking hard earth.

Old Man Erskine is the oldest Omega in the village. Every morning, he makes the trek from his little hut to the temple and leaves a modest offering of dried fruit seeds. They are never for himself; always, he offers in the same of someone he thinks can use an extra prayer.

For the past decade, he’s had trouble with his hip. The walk hurts him but he refused the notion of giving it up or asking another to make the offering in his stead. His only concession seems to be allowing Steve to help him from the great doors to the altar across the room.

“Who is it for today?” Steve asks as they make the trek.

“My granddaughter,” Erskine says, his breathing hard and labored with the effort. “The eldest one. Her sisters have all born children, but she and her mate are still without. She’s a good girl and I know she’d make a good mother. She deserves this.”

Steve smiles, squeezing Erskine’s hand. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a trio of seeds.

“To add to your offering,” he murmurs, tipping the seeds into the Omega’s open palm. “It isn’t much, just from yesterday’s snack. Perhaps with these, my lord will hear your prayer and grant her a blessing.”

Erskine’s own offering is meager, a scant few seeds, but it must be. They are all struggling in these times.

His eyes shine as he lifts his gaze to Steve. With his free hand, he touches his palm to Steve’s cheek.

“Bless you, boy,” he says. “What a joy you are.”

He bends his head, kissing the seeds and whispering a prayer before he flings them at the statue’s feet. As they fly through the air, Steve closes his eyes and adds his own prayer.

When the old man leaves, another takes his place and then another, and another. 

At some point in the morning–and he doesn’t know when–Steve becomes aware of a lurking presence in the shadows of the great hall.

He’s a tall, broad Alpha male dressed all in black, a sword at his hip and his hood pulled low. There is an air of power and confidence surrounding him that Steve has never seen before–not even in the richest of men.

The scent trail he leaves behind is intoxicating, heavy and dominating. It holds an undercurrent of arousal, as if the Alpha is on the cusp of his rut. It might explain why he’s in the temple at all, though he never goes to the altar.

Steve means to talk to him–to ask if he can offer guidance–but he is waylaid at every turn. 

First a new mother coming to thank the god for her easy birth and then a string of new brides hoping to be blessed on their wedding night.

The latest is a young boy, perhaps only eight. He’s too young to present yet, but Steve sees the Alpha in him already. The poor boy worries too much for his family, a weight of responsibility on him that should not be on one so young. The boy’s mother is set to give birth within the month and someone’s filled his head with the horrors of labor. 

Steve doesn’t ask who; he’s afraid that if he knew, he would hunt them down for hurting this innocent.

He kneels with the boy at the statue's feet, stroking his hair.

“I don’t have anything to give,” the boy whispers, watching others lay down their offerings. He turns to Steve, staring up at him with big brown eyes. “I didn’t…I didn’t know I needed anything.”

Steve smiles and kisses his forehead, reaching into his robes to pull out a silver coin.

“Here,” he says. “Give him this and tell him your fears.”

He would’ve used the coin to buy material for a new tunic. Some would call it a sacrifice, giving the coin away, but Steve doesn't see it that way. Alleviating this boy's fears is far more important. 

“It will be a wasted blessing, though, I think,” he muses. “The mother of a boy so strong and good could not fall to the labors of bringing his sister into the world. I’m sure of it.”

“Sister?” The boy looks up at him in surprise. “Do you think?”

Steve hums, carding fingers through his curls.

“Yes,” he says decisively. “Only the most worthy big brothers are given little sisters, and I can’t think of a big brother more worthy than you. In a month, your mother will be fine and you’ll have a sister to look after. You’ll bring them to the temple so I can meet them, won’t you?”

The boy beams. “Yes,” he vows.

Throughout it all, the stranger in black is an ever lingering presence in his periphery. The Alpha walks the edge of the room, a silent, intimidating presence. Watching.

It’s curious that no one has asked him to leave yet, given the fact that he has offered no prayer or trinket or even supplication to the god. This is a sacred space, it isn’t for gawkers. 

Steve has only just decided that if no one else will do it, he will ask the stranger to leave, when he sees the woman.

She’s another of the villagers, though not one that he ever remembers seeing. Her clothes are threadbare and worn, dark bags under her eyes and her hair neglected and unkempt. She’s far too thin, especially for someone with a growing babe in her arms and two small children trailing behind.

It takes such energy to care for the young, but this woman looks like she has nothing left to give. She’s exhausted, on the verge of tears, defeat showing in every line of her body.

Steve, the stranger in black forgotten, approaches her with open hands and an encouraging, sweet smile.

“What blessings do you ask for today?” He asks by way of greeting.

The woman hesitates, looking from the child in her arms to the two hiding behind her skirts. She looks back up at Steve, a little lost.

He understands. Whatever she’s here for, she doesn’t want the children to hear. He beckons another attendant over, bidding them to watch the children while he takes the mother across the room.

They kneel together at the altar, the mother staring at her lap unseeing. Her eyes brim with tears, her knuckles bloodless where she clutches her dress.

“It’s not right,” she murmurs, her voice coarse. “It’s not right to ask what I’ve got to ask.”

Steve touches her hand. “That’s not for us to decide. Go on. He will understand.”

She takes in a ragged breath, shaking her head just once as a tear slips down her cheek. She sighs the sigh of someone too burdened.

“The little one,” she says, “he’s six months next week. His Daddy’s already talking of another. He comes from a big family, you see, and he wants one of his own. I wanted to give him that, once upon a time. I did. But it’s too many mouths, my lord. The field’s aren’t yieldin’ what we need. One of us’ll be dead before winter’s through if we keep going like this.”

She closes her eyes, rocking against her hands.

“It’ll be me,” she whispers. “It’ll be me, ‘cause I won’t see my children starve. I won’t. But if I’m gone, who’ll care for them?”

Steve’s stomach drops. Suddenly, her thin frame makes too much sense.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” He asks softly.

“Doesn’t matter,” she says, cutting him a hard look. “I won’t see my children starve.”

The fire in her dies as quickly as it came. She reaches into her skirts with shaking hands and brings out a tattered cloth. When she unfolds it, it holds only a single slice of apple.

“It’s all I have to give,” she murmurs. She looks to Steve again, but this time, she’s uncertain. “I’ve never offered before. Never needed to–the babes came quickly, one after another. What do I do? Just leave it here?”

Steve swallows roughly.

“What is it, exactly, that you ask for?”

She trembles, her fingers spasming around the cloth. She has the look of a woman who knows that if she speaks the words out loud, she can never take them back. But she knows she has to.

“Make me barren,” she whispers. “I’ve had three, let me have no more. I don’t care if it makes him hate me, I can’t watch them waste away.”

She hesitates, her breathing ragged, before breathing out, “And I don’t want to die.”

Steve gathers her to his chest, squeezing as tightly as he can.

“You won’t,” he whispers. “You won’t, I won’t let you. Wait here, I’ll help.”

He lets go, thrusting himself to his feet and taking off toward the back rooms of the temple. Underneath the main chamber, the kitchens are situated. He runs through the halls until he reaches them, taking up a basket and filling it with anything he can find.

There must be something in his expression because none of the kitchen workers try to stop him, though many give him hard looks that say they will be telling the high priests. He doesn’t care. He will take whatever punishment they dole out, but he will not let a mother or her children starve. 

They have plenty, what is it for if not to help those that serve his lord?

He comes to a halt when he enters the great hall again. The woman still kneels at the altar, but the stranger in black is with her now. He squats in front of her, smoothing down her unkempt hair as she drinks from his waterskin.

Her burden is gone. Life had weighed her down only minutes before, but it’s seemingly disappeared. She stares at the stranger with a dazed expression.

The stranger stands, helping her to her feet. He kisses her knuckles and then her forehead before bidding her back toward her children. 

A shaft of light catches her face and to Steve’s utter bafflement, she no longer looks haggard and worn. Her once sallow skin glows with health, the bruises gone from her eyes and with it, her palpable exhaustion.

Steve starts to go after her, but the stranger intercepts.

“What have you done to her?” He demands, trying and failing to look over the stranger’s shoulder. “Move at once! She needs food before she keels over.”

“Be still, little one,” the stranger soothes, taking Steve by the shoulders. “She is well. She will not starve, I give you my word. I have seen to it.”

Steve looks up at him, confused and a little dazed himself. The stranger’s hood has been removed, the lines of a strikingly handsome face revealed. His scent is overwhelming, crackling like the atmosphere before a lightning strike.

“What did you do to her?” Steve asks again, softer this time.

“I did nothing but take her burden,” the stranger promises, touching his cheek. “She will have nothing more to fear.”

Steve frowns, looking down at the basket in his hands. He tries to peek around the stranger again, but he cannot find the woman.

“Truly, she will be alright?” He asks, scanning the crowds. “She will not starve?”

When he looks back to the stranger, it’s to see a sweet smile spreading across his full lips.

“You care very much, don’t you, little one?” The stranger asks gently.

“Of course,” Steve says, affronted. “These people trust me. They trust my Alpha Lord. What would I be if I took that so lightly?”

“Unremarkable,” the stranger answers, as if the question were not rhetorical. “And unfortunately common. Not many take their service to the gods so seriously.”

Yes, Steve thinks sourly. He knows too well.

He has seen it too often in his short lifetime, not just from other attendants but from the priests as well. His fingers tighten around the basket.

He will need to return it to the kitchens if the mother will not need it, but he can’t seem to find it in him to do it now.

“What brings you to the temple?” He asks instead. “You have been here a long time, but have made no offering. Do you have nothing to give?”

The stranger smiles at him again, strong fingers brushing along Steve’s jaw.

“If I said that I did not,” he murmurs, “would you give to me the way you have given to all the others?”

Oh. Steve blushes, the heat rising in his cheeks quickly.

The stranger has been watching him.

“Yes,” he answers truthfully. “If you tell me what you’d ask of my lord, and if it is not blasphemy, I would help in whatever way I can."

The stranger leans forward, his lips brushing the shell of Steve’s ear.

“That's good,” he murmurs, “because what I desire, little one, is a mate."

[jhoneybees]

Desire (part 2)

Ahh!! I'm back with another spicy fic🤭 Now this one is a sequel to Desire so if haven't read it or don't remember, it's best to go and read it to understand what's going on. Hope you enjoy!

Song in the fic:

Taglist: @elvisalltheway101 @atleastpleasetelephone @i-r-i-n-a-a

Characters: 50s!Elvis x reader

Warnings/triggers: Smut, Age gap(Elvis is 20 and Reader is 25), E's first time??, male receiving, hand job, petnames, Sub!Elvis

_____________________________________________

“Did you like that, Presley?”

He definitely did. 

The way your cocktail dress molds onto your figure makes his heart throb like crazy and as you take a seat opposite of him, he tries to keep his cool, begging himself to not stare too much but when you start talking, asking him about how his records are doing he falls into a haze just staring at your lips and only answering in a slight mumble “The records are goin’ good…gettin’ lots of sales and… all that…”

It's like you're hypnotizing him, without even knowing it.

Or…do you?

“Oh, that’s so great, Elvis!” his gaze trailing up to your eyes, he just breathes out a smile and nods. Getting the slightest glance of your defined jawline as you flip hair behind your back and turn your head towards the bartender, who’s dropping off a drink. Earning a soft “Thank you” and smile from you.

God, that damn smile.

Silently watching as you take a sip of the alcoholic beverage, his heart skips a beat when you suggest “Why don’t we go to my dressing room? Some privacy would be nice” all he can muster is a quiet nod.

_____________________________________________

“Come. Sit here, I don’t bite”

Elvis quietly makes his way to sit on a round velvet footstool that your hand patted by where you’re sitting at the vanity. Taking a silent look around your dressing room, seeing sparkly dresses hung up on a rack and floral patterns on the walls. He turns his head back at the sound of your voice.

“How’s your mama? I haven’t seen her in a while” his eyes darting up and down at your figure, Elvis brings a fist up and clears his throat.

“S-she’s good… jus’ doin’ the same old things” almost cringing at himself at how he said that  but the embarrassment quickly fades when he watches you through the mirror reapplying red lipstick to your soft looking lips.

“Good, I assume your daddy’s doing the same old things too?” he nods with parted lips making you laugh sweetly, not noticing you’re looking at him through the reflection. 

You have definitely hypnotized him.

“Well that’s also…good” 

Elvis feels like his mind is being trapped, trapped in this heaven-like gold birdcage that is your beauty. 

The way your mouth curves into a smile and your eyes shine with friendliness, slowly darkening into lust digging into his soul. Such simple things but he can’t seem to pull his eyes away- Wait-

Lust?

Suddenly he feels something grazing his thigh and when he looks down, his breath hitches and eyes widen at your pretty hand gliding onto his growing erection. Elvis quickly snaps his eyes up to yours and he almost barely holds back a whimper. 

“Been thinking of me?” your voice low and sensual, Elvis swallows as your lips grow a smirk. 

Trailing his eyes back down, his hands blindly grip behind at the edge of the footstool as your hand delicately presses down on his length. His shoulders rising as his breath does, Elvis throws his head back briefly at the light relief you made him feel “Y-Y/n.. ” 

“What is it, baby?” a sigh stutters and his lips part. He doesn’t know where his mind is, he’s lost for words. Gulping at the shine of mischief in your eyes and as you slowly trace little patterns on his bulge, Elvis’ eyes flutter close.

Sighing at your palm trailing up to the top of his pants and down to his knee, you let out a little hum as your delicate finger lifts his chin “Did you like my performance, Presley?” asking him again with a slight rasp in your words. Seeing your eyebrows raise in question.

Elvis nods almost immediately, swallowing hard at your foot brushing up his leg as you sit with one knee over the other “A-Ah liked it..a lot” he just about gets out, nervously licking his lips. 

“Ohh, I’m glad…” You coo and his eyes light up at your little pout and sparkly eyes.

“Why don’t I give you another…private little show, hm? Just the two of us” his heart kicking a beat against his ribcage, Elvis opens his mouth in an attempt to answer but nothing comes out. He just nods again. Watching as your gaze lowers to his lips “Use your words, honey”

His mouth is growing dry by the second “...Yes” 

A shiver slithers down his spine at your widening smirk. Elvis watching you rising from your seat and tipping his chin up with two fingers. 

Gulping at how you look down on him and smile.

“Go sit on that seat over there f’me, baby.” nodding quietly as you tilt your head towards the direction next to him.

Sitting himself down on the chaise lounge, smoothing his sweaty hands down his thighs as he lifts his head. His heart thumps loudly in his ears seeing you step towards him and stand right in between his legs.

Grabbing his chin again “You’re quite a handsome thing, aren’t you?”

His blue puppy eyes peering into yours as you loom over him. 

Hearing your soft chuckle, his breath shortens when you reach down to brush your hand over his crotch again. Feeling his face grow red as you bring your face just an inch away. Gently, moving your fingertips to play with the zipper of his slacks.

His chest heaves softly at the anticipation of you giving him a kiss, he nervously looks from your lips to your eyes. Seeing your pupils dilate ever slightly and as he’s about to say something, his jaw gets grabbed roughly and you crash your lips onto his, making his breath hitch and form into a puddle.

The sound of lips separating filling the room. “Get up against the wall, baby.” You order before enveloping him into another kiss.

Elvis moans into your mouth and shuffles back until the back of his head hits the wall with a thud, chasing your touch as you step out of your heels and scrunch up your sparkly dress to straddle his lap.

Groaning at the warmth of your bare thighs and your breasts pressed up against his chest. He rests his hands on your hips, trying to keep up with you devouring his mouth bit by bit. Feeling his cock strained against the fabric of his pants and now you are grinding on him making him shudder. “Mm-” 

“Shh, quiet baby…” You whisper, grazing your mouth along his cheek to his ear. Nibbling on the lobe leaving his heart almost exploding. 

Gasping at your palm slithering over his nipple through a thin layer of fabric. 

Elvis doesn’t know what to do with himself, he wasn’t expecting to be in your presence tonight and definitely wasn’t expecting to be sitting on the couch in your dressing room with you rolling your hips on his covered hard weeping dick.

It’s crazy what happens in Memphis.

“My funny valentine…” looking up into your dark eyes, his heart softens at your singing.

“Sweet comic…valentine.” watching as you flip your hair back and slowly lean into the crook of his neck, pecking his skin softly.

Elvis flutters his eyes shut and pants quietly at you kissing up his jaw and rolling your hips in a circular motion.

“You make me smile with my heart…” His tummy filling up with butterflies as you trail your hands down his chest to his belt. Carefully unbuckling it.

Swallowing, as Elvis opens his eyes to see you pulling the zipper of his pants down, wide eyed as your cold fingertips smooth around his length, giving it a little squeeze. 

Cheeks grow pink as you watch his face and let out an angelic giggle. “Your looks are…laughable.”

Pulling him out of his pants with a quiet melodic hum. “Unphotographable…” 

Seeing a smirk creep onto your lips, he follows your stare down to his aching hard cock, drooling out warm precum. Elvis whimpers loudly when you rest your thumb on his red, angry tip. Rubbing it in slow, torturous circles, coating him with his own juices. “Yet you're my favourite work of art…”

His eyebrows furrow and he pleads. 

“Mm-... I-It ‘urts-” 

“Shhh ‘s ok…”

Breath hitching as you begin to stroke him. Long and slow. “Is your figure less than greek…”

His lungs follow the rhythm of your leveled movements, legs growing weaker and weaker by the second. “Is your mouth a little weak…”

Melting as you tilt his chin up slightly, dominating him with your stare. “When you open it to speak…”

The motion on his cock, speeding up just a little making Elvis’ tongue roll out moans and groans. 

“Are you smart…”

Leaning into your hold as you run your fingers through his gelled hair, needing your comfort from you giving him such an awakening experience. 

“But don’t change your hair for me…”

Feeling a delicious tightness form in the pit of his stomach. 

Bucking his hips into your hand as you twist and pull. “Not if you care for me…”

“Stay little valentine…” his breathing erratic at the now fast approaching unknown pleasure.

“Stay…” 

He begs desperately, wanting a gentle kiss. You give him one but he wasn’t expecting it to be so loving and delicate. “Each day is Valentine’s day…” 

As you stroke him one more time, Elvis whimpers uncontrollably and his head falls back hitting the wall. White ropes of his release landing on his slacks and your hand, he clenches your dress in his fists. 

Elvis’ heart thumps and thumps, his eyes rolling back and eyelids feeling heavy. He rides through his orgasm. 

Moaning and mumbling Yes’s and Lord have mercy’s, he’s falling over the edge into a lake of your honey voice whispering “Good boy…” and “Let it all out, uh huh…such a good boy.” 

He never thought he’d have an even deeper desire to be with you than he already does at this very moment.

“Best performance yet, hm?””

[celabi]

I’m super glad you’re back! :D

I’ve got a ton of little prompt ideas floating around in my head for scummy scara but I don’t want to dump them all out at once so I’ll just bring one for now:

what if reader asked scara out on a date?

bonus points if reader shy and stuttering because yes

here’s a gold star for your awesome writing ⭐️

Hello!! I’m semi-returned to writing!! I’m still in the hospital but I feel better then I did before so I’ll be trying to clear out some of my drafts !! 🫶 sorry, this is really short, I didn’t know how to write it 😭😭

Asking Scummy Scaramouche out on a date! ☆彡

The lesson had just wrapped up for the day when Scaramouche feels a light tap on his bicep. It’s you, when he turns his head to the side— and with a cute little smile plastered on your glossy lips no less. He blinks slowly, and momentarily halts his actions of packing away his stationary so he can provide you his full attention— even going as far to prop up his elbow, leaning his red tinted cheek on his palm and returning your grin. “Yes, [name]? Would you like me to walk you home today? I truly mean it when I say that my time for you is unlimited.” ‘Please say yes, please say yes, please sa—’ his eyes slightly crease and shoulders visibly drop in disappointment when a head shake is what he receives in return, but he still nods back to you in understanding. “Oh, okay… no worries.”

He watches in curiosity as you turn your gaze and look anywhere but towards his dazed stare— awkwardly coughing into one of your fists and softly tapping your fingernail on the surface of the desk. “Ahem… it’s actually because I was wondering if you… uh, wanted to like, you know, hang out t-together, instead.” The first thing he takes notice of is the way your voice is in a much lighter tone then normal, which he mentally coos at. ‘She’s acting shy now… did I do that to her? Does— does she love me too?’ Giddy, that’s what he found himself feeling— and even though he knows he shouldn’t get so far into his deluded fantasies, he can’t help but to imagine you getting all flustered over him. Him. “We could go to the… movies? That’s always fun. Or maybe we could go to the park, i-if you’d prefer to talk, or something…”

“Like a— a date? You and me? Us? T-together?” Scaramouche has to make sure that he’s not misunderstanding your intentions and jumping to conclusions, because god he would be so upset if he accidentally managed to embarrassed himself in front of you if he happened to be wrong. He gulps down the lump in his throat, and reached up the tug at the collar to his shirt as he had started to feel slightly light headed from this whole ordeal. It can’t just be a regular study session, could it? The term was almost over, and he can’t rack his brain and recall if the professor had assigned any new assignments as of late. (Either there really was no new work to be completed— or he was just too busy staring at you every period and couldn’t bother to listen to the teachers words.)

The thought out you just asking him to hang out like friends would, enters his head— but he’s too delusional to care about that. And you’re so nice that he wouldn’t even think you’re trying to mess with him, there’s no way. Still, you both hang out all the time and you aren’t usually so fidgety and bashful around him, so this… this just has to be you asking him out romantically, right? He hopes so, he hopes so bad that his fantasies are coming to life and he can finally have you all to himself. Hell, he’s shifting around in his seat excitedly just thinking about it.

When you nod shyly in response to his clarification, Scaramouche is one hundred percent sure he would just Aww at just how adorable you look right now— if it weren’t for his heart almost bursting from his chest. This isn’t a dream, it’s real— he‘s sure it is from how much he’s sweating. You like him back, and though it’s a stretch, he thinks there’s a chance that maybe you love him too. You want to date him, to hug him, to kiss him, like he does you? Of course you do, why else would you ask him out. Duh.

He lets out a breath, and you take notice of how shaky it sounds, and how he looks like passing out. “Uh… if you’re sick, we can reschedule, o-or just not go at all if that’s what you pr—” you don’t even get to finish your sentence before he’s straightening up in his chair and whipping his head into your direction, a panic look overtakes his previously dreamy one.

“No, no! I’ll go, I want to!” He interrupts, and waves his arms around in embarrassment, before looking down into his lap shamefully from his sudden outburst. “I mean… I would like that… if you took me out on a d-date. Please.”

“Pftt… okay, Kuni, follow me then.”

He only nods, a love sick smile on his lips as he stands up and trails behind you, reaching for your hand and even forgetting to grab his bag on the way out because of his excitement. Loser 😔

[king-bumis-armpit]

Hey! If you are still looking for maiko prompts.

You could write a sour zuko finding out that Mai and kei lo broke up. I like imagining ways for him to find out and what his reaction would be.

And I’m always a fan of stories where Mai runs away when zuko is banished, or try to smuggle herself into his ship.

Anyway, have fun!

Put a Ring on It

Part 2 is out now: read it here.

Summary: Kei Lo buys an engagement ring. Zuko freaks out. 

“I’m thinking something gold and traditional.” Good, Zuko thought bitterly. At least Mai will hate it. He had well and truly lost her. He had lost her to another man.

Author’s Note: This idea was given to me by a lovely anon! If you have any Maiko fic ideas that you want me to write, send them my way! And thank you, if you already have <3

Gene Luen Yang wants me to believe it took Mai and Zuko 3 years to get back together. Ha! I spit in your face, good sir. This fic will do it in one! (I’m kidding, I’m kidding… mostly. I hate the comics but I’m sure Gene’s a decent fellow.)

This fic takes place 8 months after the events of Smoke and Shadow, vol 3. It’s canon compliant up to that point, and canon compliant with Korra, but I know nothing about the comics that chronologically happen in between so it might contradict those. For the purpose of this fanfiction, marriage proposals in the Fire Nation are the same as modern proposals with an engagement ring. 

Also! Happy (late) Mother’s Day to all the moms out there! You’re the best!!

Zuko made his way quickly through the rain, hood pulled tight over his head. He was out with only a few plainclothes guards today, hoping to maintain some anonymity. It was only a week until the Feast of the Mother of Faces, and Zuko had yet to find a suitable gift for his own mom. He wanted to get her something especially nice since they had been apart for so many years. He was pretty sure his last gift to her was a macaroni necklace, and figured he had to at least up his game from that.

His uncle had given him some recommendations of places to shop, and the first of which was a small but well-known jewelry store in the Caldera. As he slipped inside, he noted that the place was nearly empty except for the store clerk. His guards would be watching the door from a tavern across the street, and were instructed not to check in unless he spent over an hour in the building.

The spectacled shopkeeper looked up at his arrival, “Can I help you find anything, sir?”

“I don’t think so?” Zuko replied. “I’m just browsing for a Feast of the Mother gift.”

“Ah,” the man nodded in understanding. He gestured to the wall to Zuko’s right. “We have a lovely selection of necklaces and pendants that might be suitable. Prices are listed on the tags. Let me know if you have any questions or if you would like me to remove any items from the case.”

Zuko smiled and gave the man a slight bow. This was shaping up to be easier than he expected. He looked through the glass at the different options. He noticed some that were similar to pieces he recognized from his childhood. There was one in particular, a gaudy and ruby-encrusted flame, the size of his fist, that reminded him of something his father would buy. Best to stay away from those. There were some cloth chokers, similar to one that Katara occasionally wore when she was in the fire nation. He wasn’t quite sure they would be his mother’s style, but perhaps he should send a memo to Aang. (For a monk, who swore off material things, that kid sure bought a lot of gifts for his girlfriend. The thought made Zuko smile.) 

Then, he caught sight of a delicate silver chain. Most women in the Fire Nation preferred gold, but Zuko knew one woman who hadn’t. 

— —

“Silver matches my knives, Zuko. The aesthetic of it all is very important to me.”

Zuko snorted. They had decided to explore the numerous palace basements, and had come across one of the many treasuries, nearly all of it gold. Mai had immediately protested the lack of her favorite metal.

“Well gold is the emblematic color of our nation, so most of the royal jewelry is gold. You’re going to have to get used to it eventually.” Zuko blushed when he realized the implication of his words.

“Oh? Why is that?” Mai asked, fixing him with a satisfied smirk. 

His cheeks were burning, but he decided to play it cool. “I plan to put a golden crown on your head one day… if that’s alright with you.”

Mai kissed his cheek, and then his nose, and then his lips. “I think that’ll be alright. One day. But I really would prefer silver.” 

He cupped her cheek with his palm and guided her in for another kiss. That was the last room they managed to explore that day.

— — 

And even though they were no longer together, Zuko thought about her more than he cared to admit. He leaned in to examine the silver chain. It carried a small charm, about the size of his thumbnail. The charm itself was also silver, fashioned into the shape of a plum blossom. A wine colored garnet– again, a favorite of Mai’s–  was nestled in the center of the flower. Zuko felt his heart seize. It was perfect, but not for the person he was supposed to be shopping for. 

He contemplated buying it anyway. Maybe he could stop by Mura’s after this and place an order for a bouquet. Surely his mom would want flowers. And if Mai was there, he could give her the necklace. What’s a gift between friends? 

The sound of the door opening broke his reverie. The rain had gotten heavier since he entered the shop, and the new customer had practically flung himself into the building, allowing the door to slam behind him. 

The shopkeeper seemed slightly irritated by this noisy appearance, but nonetheless asked him the question he had asked Zuko. “Can I help you find anything, sir?”

The man removed his hood, and Zuko felt his muscles turn to ice. It was Kei Lo.

“Oh yes please!” He gave a good natured smile, all cheerfulness and boyish charm as he swaggered up to the counter. The universe was taunting Zuko. Of course he couldn’t buy a ridiculously expensive present for Mai. She had a boyfriend. She had made that quite clear when he last saw her eight months ago.

“What are you looking for?” the man asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Zuko noticed how Kei Lo shuffled, seeming nervous. “I– I’m here to buy an engagement ring.”

Zuko was going to be sick. He was going to throw up. Right on the floor. Right in front of the store clerk. And right in front of Mai’s soon-to-be-fiance.

“Congratulations!” The storekeeper seemed to have fully gotten over irritation and beamed from ear to ear.

“Thanks!” Kei Lo said sheepishly. “I haven’t asked her yet, but we’ve talked about it before so I’m confident she’ll say yes.”

Zuko took several deep breaths and forced himself to quietly turn and face the display case once again. Kei Lo obviously hadn’t noticed him yet, and he knew that any interaction between them would be a disaster.

“Have you discussed ring preferences?” the older man asked.

“No, but I’m thinking something gold and traditional.” Good, Zuko thought bitterly. At least Mai will hate it. 

As the two walked over to the ring cases and discussed the pieces, Zuko’s thoughts began to spiral. How had this happened? He had well and truly lost her. Mai, his soulmate, his best friend, his plum blossom. He had lost her to another man. Except…

Except he hadn’t yet! Kei Lo hadn’t asked her yet. He could buy his own engagement ring from a different shop and ask her right now! Or he could run there and ask her without one. 

“Prince Zuko!” He heard his Uncle’s voice in his head, echoing the wisdom of the past. “You never think these things through! You had no plan! You could have died!” Then he said something about ice and chasing the avatar. The exact words were hazy, but the sentiment was clear. He was too impulsive. 

He needed to wait and collect more information. Then he could form a plan and– and then what? If Mai wanted to marry Kei Lo, then he knew he had to support her. He wanted her to be happy more than he wanted his own happiness. But when he spoke to her in the Dragonbone Catacombs she herself admitted that she didn’t like Kei Lo as much as she had liked him. He cursed himself. He had driven her away and broken her heart twice! Now she was scared to trust him. But if he could just convince her to give him one more chance, he could fix it. He had learned how painful it was to live without her, and he would not repeat his mistakes.

His heart ached to imagine Mai in a wedding dress at someone else’s side. Even as a kid, when he pictured his wedding, he pictured Mai as the bride.

— — 

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” Little Azula tugged at their mother’s sleeve. “My friend Mai is here and we want to play a game with Zuko! Please! Ty Lee is sick, so we need another person.” Zuko rolled his eyes. He considered Mai to be a shared friend since they all used to play together at Ember Island, but lately Azula had been calling her “my friend Mai.” It made him angry and he didn’t know why.

Ursa patted her daughter’s head. “I think that’s a great idea. What do you think, Zuko?”

He crossed his arms. He remembered what happened last week with the apple. But if Ty Lee was sick then Mai was alone with Azula. What if his sister was teasing her? Or telling her lies about him? He needed to intervene. “Sure. I would love to play with you Azula.” His tone of voice did not match his words, but his sister didn’t care.

“Good!” Azula grabbed his hand and marched him into the fountain garden. Zuko knew that this couldn’t possibly end well.

Mai was sitting under a tree, twirling a knife. She looked up at their approach and raised an eyebrow, “I thought you went to get mochi.”

Azula shrugged. “I changed my mind. I want to play a game.”

Mai looked at Zuko with great trepidation. He couldn’t blame her. Last time Azula said those words, he had tackled her.

“No firebending this time, Azula,” he ordered.

“Of course not,” Azula agreed. “We’re going to play wedding. I’ll be the officiant and you two will be the couple.”

It took all of Zuko’s discipline to not stare at Mai and search her face for a reaction. He heard her sigh, and he felt his stomach drop.

“Well,” Azula prompted. “Come here.” She made Mai and Zuko stand facing each other while she launched into a monologue about the rich culture of the Fire Nation. She went on for a while and Zuko was so bored that he almost forgot to be embarrassed. When Azula wasn’t looking, he noticed Mai yawning. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. “And naturally,” Azula carried on. “Fire bending comes from the breath. In order to symbolize the joining of flames, the couple will now share a breath and share a kiss.” She looked at them expectantly.

“Azula, I don’t think we should do this,” Zuko protested.

His sister smirked. “Why not? You don’t want to kiss Mai? She’s not pretty enough for you?”

Zuko saw red. “Mai is really pretty! You take that back right now!”

“If she’s so pretty, then kiss her!”

Mai cleared her throat. Pink dusted her cheeks, but aside from that her expression remained neutral, “Can’t we just pretend?”

“What do you mean?” Azula asked. 

Mai shrugged. “Like this.” She leaned slightly closer to Zuko and kissed the air. 

“That looks ridiculous,” Azula said.

“That’s weird. I thought you said you were better than Ty Lee at everything.” Mai’s words made no sense to Zuko, and apparently they made no sense to Azula either.

“Well yes, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

Mai smirked, “I bet Ty Lee would be able to pretend. She’s more creative and she has a better imagination.”

Azula was irate. Zuko knew first hand that people were not allowed to be better than her at anything. “I have an idea,” she replied. Zuko shuddered, that was Azula’s scary voice. “Next time, Ty Lee can be the bride. I bet Zuko would kiss her.”

For once, Mai’s facade cracked. Her face scrunched up and Zuko was afraid she was going to cry. “No!” Zuko cut in. “I don’t want to play this game with Ty Lee.” Azula huffed, but Mai looked up at him hopefully. He took her hands and kissed the air like she had. “I now pronounce us husband and wife.”

“Hey!” Azula pinched his shoulder. “That’s my line.”

Thankfully he was spared a confrontation by the arrival of his mother. “Zuko! Azula! It’s time for dinner.” She caught sight of Zuko and Mai’s clasped hands and smiled. “You’re welcome to stay too, Mai. I can send a servant to your mother to let her know.”

Mai politely declined, and Zuko was sad to see her go. That night, he thought for the first time about what his wedding might be like. He imagined hands entwined with own, slightly colder than his. They were soft except for the side of her index finger and thumb where she gripped her knives.

— —

Zuko caught himself staring at his own hands, and tried to shake off the memory. Since that day, he couldn’t help but picture Mai as his bride. It was almost involuntary. But if she had truly grown to love Kei Lo, then he would have to get over it. His mouth tasted like ash.

Zuko pulled his hood down, to the point where it hung in his face obnoxiously, and he walked over to a display case of bracelets that was closer to the rings. He tried to appear nonchalant as he looked over the merchandise, but he listened to the other two men intently.

Kei Lo was in the middle of speaking. “I walked into her shop one day on a whim. She was so beautiful. I asked her out on the spot and the rest is history.”

The older man smiled. “How lovely! I met my husband at work as well. He came in to buy a gift for his grandmother and he kept coming back. Eventually, I asked him out because I was worried he would bankrupt himself spending so much money here.”

Kei Lo laughed. “Wait, he bought something every time he came in?”

“Yes,” the shopkeeper shook his head. “I think he felt guilty for wasting my time. But we’ve been together for thirty years at this point and I don’t consider any of them wasted.”

“Wow! My girl and I have only been together for seven months.” Kei Lo replied. Zuko huffed. That was wrong. He and Mai had been dating for nine months at least according to what he learned from Ty Lee. Kei Lo really should know that.

“What’s her name?” the shopkeeper asked. Zuko shuffled close still, pretending to admire the bracelets in the sale section. Unlike the others that were behind glass, these hung from artful stands. He allowed his fingers to graze a band of beaded obsidian.

“Her name is Machi,” Kei Lo answered.

Zuko spun around, but his sleeve had caught on the stand and the entire thing toppled over, making a terrible noise and scattering bracelets across the floor.

“I– I– I’m so sorry,” Zuko’s face burned hotter than the sun. 

Kei Lo looked at him stunned. “Zuko?”

The shopkeeper’s eyes went wide. With the scar and the name, he put it together. “Fire Lord!” He bowed at the waist, and– for a moment– Zuko was worried the man would lose his glasses. “My deepest apologies. Had I known it was you I would have helped you pick something out for your venerable mother–”

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Zuko reassured him and the older man rose from his bow. “I’m sorry. I knocked over your display stand and the bracelets–” Zuko righted the stand and began to gather the fallen items, but the shopkeeper would not have it.

“Oh no!” He rushed over to help. “You do not need to clean my shop, Lord Zuko. Thanks to you, my husband and I were finally married under the law.” 

Zuko smiled, “I’m glad. But still, let me help you. It was my fault after all.”

Kei Lo clapped a hand on the shopkeeper’s back. “I’ll help too.” 

The three of them quickly subdued the mess. The shopkeeper noticed a few damaged pieces which he took to his back room for repairs. Zuko made a note to send the man compensation. 

While the store owner was removing and cataloging the damaged pieces, Zuko and Kei Lo were left alone. Kei Lo broke the silence. “So… How’s Mai?”

“I don’t know,” Zuko answered honestly, and the awkward silence descended once more.

Zuko felt relief course through his body. After making a fool out of himself, he could finally take it in. Mai and Kei Lo had broken up. Kei Lo was engaged to someone else. Kei Lo thought that Zuko and Mai were talking.

The first part was wonderful news. Zuko felt it was safe to assume that Mai had dumped Kei Lo. When he released Kei Lo from the prison, the man had made it abundantly clear that he was with Mai to stay. Besides, the thought of Mai sending him on his way made Zuko very, very happy. The only potential concern was that the breakup had happened a long time ago, at least seven months. And, in all that time, Mai had made no effort to see him. For all he knew, she could be with someone else too.

“Umm…” Zuko did not know a subtle way to ask what he wanted to know. “Have you heard if Mai is with anyone right now?”

Kei Lo shook his head. “To be honest, I’m surprised she’s not back with you. She was normally so… neutral, I guess. You know how she is. But when she talked about you, a light would enter her eyes. She would go on and on…”

Zuko felt a spark in his chest. “Really?” He could hear the pathetic hope in his own voice. “She seemed so hesitant to trust me again. I thought she hated my guts.”

“No,” Kei Lo smiled wistfully. “I take it you don’t know how we broke up.”

“To be honest, I thought you were proposing to her.”

Kei Lo let out a raucous laugh. “HA! Agni, that’s why you bumped into the bracelet stand. Were you spying on us?”

Zuko laughed along sheepishly. “Kind of. I really did come here to get something for my mom, but when I heard your request… Part of me wanted to run to Mai right then and make a grand declaration.”

“I would have paid to see that. Front page news: The Fire Lord’s Shocking Proposal.”

“Yeah,” Zuko rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a good thing I didn’t.”

“Well, I was going to say that after all the stuff with the Safe Nation Society, Mai and I had a talk. I told her that if we were going to keep dating, I needed to know that she was over you. She has this one portrait of the two of you, and she keeps it in her dresser. I told her to get rid of it or I was gone. She made her choice.”

Zuko remembered that painting. He had one very similar to it in his own room that he kept on his desk. His was in ink and hers was in color. 

And then he remembered that he should probably express some sympathy for Kei Lo. “It seems like it all worked out for you in the end though. I wish you and Machi the best.”

Kei Lo nodded. “Thank you. I’m so glad I found her. I was really upset when Mai and I broke up, but it all seems so trivial now. For what it’s worth, I think you should reach out to Mai. See if she still has that painting.”

“I think you’re right.” The two men shook hands. If Zuko had learned anything from this experience, it was that he didn’t want to wait anymore and risk Mai moving on completely. He needed to find her and apologize and beg for her to come back. 

When the store owner returned, Zuko purchased the plum blossom necklace.

Endnotes: I’m open to writing a part two where Zuko gives Mai the necklace if people would be interested. (I mean, I might anyway even if you all aren’t, lol.) But I wanted to get this out close to Mother’s Day since I made up the Fire Nation version of Mother’s Day for this fic. And, a big HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY to all the moms!!!

Also, I couldn’t get into it in the story, but Kei Lo is that guy who falls for his barista, right? He went on like one date with Mai and then decided she was his reason for living. So I thought it would be hilarious if that’s how he met his next girlfriend! And then he could ambiguously say that he met her at the shop where she works which is also how he met Mai. Anyway, it was a funny head canon that made me laugh.

Thank you again to the anon who suggested this! I hope I didn’t make it too silly. I love putting our dramatic boy in ridiculous situations. Also, I plan on writing your other idea as well at some point, but this one demanded to be written immediately <3

PART 2!

[castlevaniacentral]

The sunrise may never be mine

Chapter one.

𝘉𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦

It’s been a little bit over a few months after the incident with your mother. It was hard finding a life outside of the manor. To be fair you didn’t really find one. After all, you had been there since you were born.

Food was basically impossible to acquire, you only ate scales of trash you could find. Sometimes being able to grace some wild berries in the forest and don’t even get started on coin. People would rather rob you with your eyes wide open, making you perform free labour and scamming you out of your pay. Some even tried to rob you of the sleek amour that adorned your arms though when they attempted, it couldn’t removed.

Causing a pretty animated retort out of you, cause now you even wondered if you could remove this amour for yourself. So much for magical it was more of a pain the ass.

Though…as tedious as it was, it did help you hone some of the magic skills you felt had been within you. The night creatures you come across you were able to defeat some of them with your fist and power, the armour seems to give you a shield of some sort, making your hits more powerful with each hit your able to blast an attack.. a good combo for now though a piece of you seems to be missing a weapon of some sort… maybe once you’ve figured that out you can beat even more night creatures. And by more you only mean like 2 maybe at once..you don’t wanna push your luck now

Your skills are far from perfect but anyone with a good eye can see that your a diamond in the rough. And once you’re put together you’ll be unstoppable.

Hearing a loud growl emerge from your stomach you slightly bend over an arm over your stomach. your rosary dangling loosely from your body. You had learned over time traveling that crosses kept some vampires away, the steel and symbol sort of scares them a bit once they see you’re sort of adorned with it. Well this tactic has worked so far along your little journey.

Looking around, you kept your senses in high. After all you were still being sought out by the priest of the town, and he only way you’ve been dodging them is by staying in abandoned places and hiding with ash whenever they’re about to come into view. Next were the disgusting men that lingered near the bars, they were touchy and forceful. You’ve had your fair share of them you tended to just avoid those areas as much as you could.

Walking down the street you look for any stall that could have been open. The sun was about to set, and you were lucky if you did but you were just looking for some last minute food. A snack an apple would do, you only had one coin anyway

Stopping at a small shack you hold out the little shiny gold coin between your small fingertips, blinking owlishly you stare at the keeper of the rack “give me for this.” you tilted your head slightly your accent strong, but words put together as best you can form for the shop keeper to understand you. Raising a brow, the man hands you bread, it was hard and stale but it was all you could take at the time anyway.

Nodding your head at him you venture off. Taking a bite into the hard bread your hand still wrapped around ash’s rein, glancing at your dark horse you put some of the bread to its mouth watching it eat curiously “good.” You say followed by a small pat of his snout.

“Aye You there!”

You suddenly pause in your tracks, the voice of a man calling from the distance. “You’re the witch from the manor!”

Wasting no time you haul yourself up onto ash who obediently waits for you to settle on him before obeying your pull, “run boy” you say hastily as your horse takes off into the woods into the night. You clutch tightly to the bread in your hand as the thunder rumbles through the sky.

Now you were in danger.

No where close to civilization, there was no shelter from the night creatures or the rain. You would probably die of the cold first you’d think you’d die from the cold first. But from the low hisses of the creatures in the bushes. You instantly knew your doom could be now.

Pulling ash’s rein harder you ushered him forward “faster!” You say before a creature emerges from the dark launching itself at you and the horse. It’s wings ripped through the air with quickness before talons sprawled out snatching you swiftly off the horse before you could even respond.

Ash neighed loudly following were the creature was taking you. Kicking your feet through the air you readied your hand firing a fireball at the creature forcing it let you go, you violently tumbled to the ground. For some reason, your body just loved being thrown down there. The sounds of ashes hooves hitting the ground caught your attention. You just wanted him to be safe. Just then the rain began to pour heavy.

You immediately stood up, the creature launching itself at you swiftly once more. This one was much faster than the ones you’ve encountered, what’s even worse is it was extremely noisy it seemed to be summoning more of the night creatures as you heard growls emerge from the darkness.

Now you were in serious crap. You dodged the night creature throwing yourself to the side, it aimed for ash but luckily you were fast enough to send an attack of rocks towards it. Alright so you could control the earth around you but this was really physically draining.

Taking off you ran forward “ash run boy!” You yelled out running quickly as the horse took off without you. Good, ash was all you had you didn’t want to lose him too.

Running for shelter you tried to avoid the monsters that closed in on you they launched their attacks you barely missed them by an inch. But now you were becoming very battered and tired from throwing yourself around. And your magic felt like it was running out, you physically felt tired and exasperated. Finally the creature landed a blow sending you flying for what felt like miles, you hit the ground and felt the wind knock cold out of you

You heard the sounds of ash’s neigh in the distance “don’t come back no!” You groaned out before standing up sheepishly both beast and creature coming towards you with speed. Holding a hand up to cover your head you waited for your demise.

Which didn’t come, instead you only heard the sounds of metal cutting through the flesh of the creatures that had been attacking you. Opening your eyes you stared, it was alone sword.

Moving in it’s own, it glided through the air gracefully slashing the monsters to bits. You took a shaky step back the blood spraying over your face and tattered tunic. You looked down at your hands, the rain washing the blood of you just as fast as it came.

That wasn’t you no way. But just then the weapon flew towards you to about to slice you next. stepping off to the side you hold your arm out to block the sword, the metal clashing against the sliver of your arm in response.

“You’re a witch, what business do you hold here?”

You stumbled back pressing your back against the tree as a resort for safety. The armour on your hands began to lighten up. strangely so as if it had been close to another fragment of it.

“Not a witch!” You shout before holding out your hands defensively. The man that stood before you almost sent you into awe, he wasn't quite like any human you've seen before. your eyebrows softened for a slight moment showing your weakness before you regained composure. He was one of them he had to be.

He would put you in shackles once again and you refused to be in that state again

“Well you reek of it.”

You summoned the last little energy of power, raising your hands; sending more stones towards his way. Not only did he gracefully doge it, he did it with ease too. The sword almost acting on impulse impaled your side, the deep gash causing you to grunt out in pain.

“Not a witch! Looking for Safety…” you drop to the ground clutching your side. You had taken a harsh beating from the beasts now you had to deal with him.

Tasting that familiar metallic taste you hold your head down shaking slightly holding the wound as tightly as you can to not bleed out. Your vision was beginning to become blurry. “Burn me at the stake…then” you blurt out sarcastically

Was this it? We’re you going to die here pathetically in front of a man who kind of saved you from the beast just to slay you by his own hands? “Spare Ash” you cough out. Before laying down on your side, the blonde haired male approaches you

Slowly the sword is withdrawn and back at his side again. His tone doesn’t change as he opened his mouth to speak again, and you dare not to glance up to meet his gaze, “I do not know who you’re referring to.”

“horse” you say quietly before closing your eyes. your hand limply falls to the ground causing a low sigh to escape the Blonde males lips as he stares at your small frame.

“I should help her.” Hearing the neigh of ash he rolls his eyes, “this is what you called my attention to?” He Scoffs in response to the horses persistence. “Relax she isn’t dead. I just did her a favour and myself one as well”

Walking over your “lifeless” body he picks you up slinging you over his shoulder to carry you to the castle, but suddenly you sit up rutting him square in the jaw with your elbow. His head twists within the action his blonde hair clouding his expression from your vision.

Unexpected.

You struggle in his grasp before feeling a hard hit in the back of your neck the cold metal feeling was only brief, because the world around you instantly went dark.

Now you were definitely out.

“Stubborn…I applaud you for actually getting a hit in.” He muttered out the sword falling to his side, before flawlessly gliding into its scabbard casing.

walking towards the castle. Ash followed behind closely “Your owner, she’ll be a pain in the ass when she awakes”

[woo-wahhhh]

[ the things i do for you–; let’s just say missing out on the limited edition tcg card of your boyfriend is a bit... devastating ]

“you’re crying.”

“no, i’m sniffling. my nose is clogged,”

“because you’re crying,”

“no, i’m sniffling because my nose is clogged. i said so,”

“no, you’re sniffling because your nose is clogged because you’re crying because you couldn’t get the limited edition tcg card... of me?” alhaitham’s voice had an edge of... well, in order to not sugarcoat it, judgement. he couldn’t fathom why a silly little illustrated piece of cardstock of him of all people was something to cry over.

on the other hand, kaveh, who was having the absolute time of his life over his roommates confused stupor, patted your back from across the tavern table in attempt to comfort you. 

“it’s alright!” he exclaimed boisterously as he handed you a hankerchief. it was your second, actually, since you’d ruined the first one alhaitham had given you before. “there’s better cards to get! besides, uh, do you really want to build a deck around... well, him?”

“says the guy who doesn’t even have a card made after him,” alhaitham shot back, only to garner a dramatic gasp for kaveh.

“i– listen here, you! up until today, you didn’t have a card either, so how are you better than me?!” he jabbed an accusatory finger at alhaitham, who barely flinched from beside you. 

“firstly, i never said i was better than you, though that is quite the astute observation on your part. i’m glad to see you’re growing your self awareness. and secondly, i am better than you in terms of the current subject because i do in fact have a card. you can try to argue, but your lack of cards sharing your likeness is simply irrefutable.”

the scarlet rage on kaveh’s face matched his red cape, and he slammed his fists down on the table. “you know what? i give up with you! good luck to you–,” he said to you, with considerably less ire, “– and good riddance to you!” he snapped at alhaitham. 

you watched as kaveh marched out through wet eyelashes. usually, you’d laugh a bit at their bickering, but the fact you couldn’t get ahold of the alhaitham tcg card did make you sad. it was a bit childish, but with a glass of wine warming up your throat, maybe you were a bit extra emotional. 

“... does the card matter that much?” alhaitham asked, ignoring kaveh’s departure completely. there was an uncharacteristic awkwardness in his voice, not because he was mocking you, but because of his genuine lack of understanding of your sorrow. “i’m right here.”

“yeah but like it’s cool.  i mean you’re cool too. but like, there’s only 10 of the cards, and only 5 of them have the holographic and gold detailing and it’s just so pretty...”

idly, he wondered if should be offended that you simply regarded him as cool as a holographic piece of cardstock.  

“but it’s simply a card. i’m sure it doesn’t have very good combat– er, tcg– prowess anyways.” even he flinched lightly when you dropped your forehead against the wooden table. one of the waiters looked over at you two with concern, but alhaitham simply shook his head. 

“yeah, but its a card of you! ugh, how do i say this in a way that makes sense?” you cried, making grabbing motions with your outstretched hands, despite not raising your head. he wordlessly passed you a glass of water. you didn’t drink it, but you lifted your head and pressed the cool surface against your forehead. 

“it’s priceless because it’s you. and you’re really cool, you know! cool enough to get a limited run of tcg cards made of you even though no one in this country knows jack shit about you! and it’s just lame that of all the people to not have the coolest card of you is me. and think about it! we don’t even have a kamera, so i don’t even have a picture of you.”

“you could get a portrait done,” he said pointedly, but you snorted.

“look me in the eyes, ‘haitham, that you’d pay money and sit down for someone to paint a portrait of you,”

he didn’t reply for a moment, humming quietly under his breath. at first glance, you would’ve assumed he was agreeing with you, but the careful glint in his eyes was that of careful consideration. 

“... if you’d like, we can do that.”

“huh?”

“did i stutter?” ah, there’s the signature bite. you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “you wanted a painting, didn’t you? we can get one done.” as he spoke, he was looking into your eyes, unwavering confidence in the emerald and rust. “and let’s make a deal, shall we? if you stop crying, and take care of the hassle of locating a genuine copy of the card, i’ll foot the cost and get it for you. how’s that sound?”

you looked like fish with how your mouth hung wide open, eyes widened with an unbridled kind of shock. alhaitham, decidedly, liked that look a lot. he much preferred it over your crying face and drunken stupor. he especially liked that you broke into an elated grin, all but throwing yourself at him. 

“thank you, thank you, thank you!” his face remained passive, calmly sipping his wine though his arm did snake around your waist so you didn’t fall out of your chair, even though he knew your embrace around his shoulders would probably provide enough stability. “don’t worry, i’ll do my best to look for one!”

“good,” alhaitham had a smug sort of smile playing on his lips as he finished off the last of his wine, before gently prying your hands away from him with an uncharacteristic sort of tenderness though he did keep ahold of your wrist as he stood up. “boss, put the bill on my tab if you would– not kaveh’s though. he only had a glass, i’m sure he can pay it off.”

he pulled you up, making sure you didn’t fall as you waved and he nodded at the owner, walking swiftly away. you giggled to yourself, knowing he’d been planning to leave for a while– alhaitham preferred a strict schedule after all, and he was a determined man who wanted to get his 8 hours in before work. 

“what?” he asked you, eyebrow arching up as you weaved through the streets, hand in hand. it seemed like you were staying at his home that night.

“no, i’m just wondering if you even knew where to find a painter who’d agree to sit down with you,” you chirped, laughing until you caught the smirk on his face. you peered at him curiously.

“oh, i don’t need to find one. what good is living with an artistic freeloader if not to get his services in exchange for shirking off a month’s rent?”

[ggjunkie]

Heavenly Hazards

Chapter 1

It was your official 5-week anniversary of heaven. And although you may be far from an expert, you’ve gained enough experience and went through enough trial and error to create a list of rules. These rules, under no circumstance, are to be broken, bent, nor rewritten. You may need some reminders every now and then, as they’re all extremely persuasive, but you refuse to falter.

Ahem! So without further ado, here is your list of “Heavenly Hazards!”

Number 1: Steer Clear of the promenade food court’s smoothies.

You made the honest mistake of indulging, and paid the price. In your defense, you really didn’t know any better. Even the worker seemed surprised you had wanted to order. One sip was the equivalent of one hour spent crouching near the toilet. You spent that time wondering if there was an afterlife after this one, or if you’d be forced to die forever. Based on those two days, the second option seemed the most comforting. No more fancy promenades and no more poison-smoothies.

Number 2: Don’t look too closely at the street performers

One fact about heaven they don’t write home about is that these angels will sing. That doesn’t always mean the same thing as “can” or “should,” but you will always find fun numbers on the street. However, watch for too long and that solo will become a duet. Sometimes it can be exhilarating. But when you have concrete plans you’re already running late for and suddenly you find yourself triple time-stepping to the latest edition of “Count On Me,” it can be frustrating.

And the final, most important, at all cost followed, never to be broken rule:

Number 3: Avoid Adam.

Being the first man, he came with a lot of titles. For instance, “the first— and therefore the biggest- baby” and “the first face your fist may meet” were both strong. Or alternatively, something fitting a bit closer to home for you: “The first hookup you had in heaven even though you know you shouldn’t have, and now you have to ignore and avoid his stupid smug face.”

Real catchy name.

It was a serious problem though. Especially since he seemed to want the opposite of that– for whatever reason it may be. Knowing him, it could range from craving a Hookup the Sequel, to wanting to slut-shame you for sex before marriage. However, day after day, you’d always end up “mysteriously” bumping into him. From the streets to your place of work, it’s only a matter of time until he finds out where you live and manages to start bugging you there too. You wondered if he harassed all his past hookups like this, before shaking your head and realizing “yeah, probably.”

The hook up wasn’t your fault though!

Upon arrival into heaven, there was a mysterious ticket slipped into your brochure. It was rich black– a stark contrast to everything else behind the Pearly Gates, everything alternated between white and off-white. Scribbled in a gold marker was what you assumed to be a signature, but you couldn’t be too sure. If anything, it more closely resembled a stick figure– somehow. You would’ve marched back up to that gleaming angel sitting behind his desk and handed over the ticket, only to have been assured it was some sort of mistake and now be promised a million heaven-bucks or whatever other apology he would’ve offered. However, there was one thing stopping you.

Up at the top of the ticket, above the not-quite-signature, was your name. Granted, it was scrawled in a hard-to-understand handwriting. But you can recognize your name anywhere. Or wait… if you squint hard enough, it sort of looked like a second stickman.

Looking at it made you nervous though, so into the trashcan it went. As you tossed it, you clapped your hands clean, ready to open back up that brochure and find out where you will be staying when suddenly everything went black. You sputtered, reaching for your eyes to find something covering them. You peel it off, staring back at none other than the ticket.

With a shocked yelp, you threw it to the floor, watching as it immediately flew back up into your hand. It obviously wasn’t alive– or at least you hoped not– so, maybe enchanted?

“Problem?” the angel behind his desk smiled softly, tilting his head to complete his look of the pinnacle of all things sweet. Quickly, you hid the ticket behind your back, afraid to accidentally be caught with something bad, and shook your head ‘no.’ Ever trusting, the angel grinned back, noticed one of his pens out of place, quickly pushed it right, and then delved straight back into his boring paperwork.

However, the pen he had moved was gold.. Or, wait… yeah no it’s white. Curse this bland place!

With his attention now diverted, you exited the building, started walking– you’re afraid you’ll never get used to these wings–and pulled back out the ticket. Due to most angels taking to choose to fly and soar above, you didn’t have to worry about bumping into anyone. You flipped the ticket back and forth, looking for any sort of clues or hints as to what it could be.

You came back with nothing.

However, because of your distracted pacing, you found yourself at some sort of open area. You swapped out your ticket, fumbling around in your pockets for your brochure and checking the attached map. According to the red star marked “You are Here,” you had found yourself at the promenade. There were places to relax and eat, something that seemed very much appealing after dealing with both death… and this stupid, impossibly infuriating ticket!

Your wings fluttering- a new and weirdly uncomfortable feeling--you moved to join in line and order food. Unfortunately, most of the food lines were a tad bit long. Ever impatient, you decided to hop to the most empty line, which seemed to be…

You squinted up at the sign– oh!

Smoothies!

[sweetwhispersofchaos]

Mornings of Gold

I'm so far behind its not even funny, but I have FINALLY finished my second entry for @roosterforme Top Gun Rocktober event. I used my all time favorite song to create this completely self indulgent romance piece and I have zero apologies for it. ;) Pairing: Phoenix and Bob Words: 5433 Warnings: fluff, mild smut (no grave detail), kissing, did I mention fluff? *I do not own the Top Gun characters.*

Lightening illuminated the windows while rain tap danced across the glass. A deafening crack of thunder shook the entirety of Bob’s apartment, rattling some of his frames on the wall and causing both he and Phoenix to jump in their seats. They were deep into their third round of Go-Fish and a lunch wager was riding on the winner of this last bout. It was serious and they both were concentrating so hard on their cards that the storm jolted them out of their haze.

“I hope the power holds.” Bob said while studying the dwindling stack of cards in his hand.

“And if it doesn’t, we light some candles and keep going.”

“Phee, I don’t have any candles.”

“Floyd. I thought you were a Boy Scout?”

“I didn’t say I was a good one.” he whispered with a sheepish shrug.

“Thank goodness for flashlights.”

“I don’t have those either.”

Phoenix let out a huff “Guess I should plug my phone in, just in case huh?” she said exasperatedly as she stood to grab her charger from her backpack.

Phoenix loved being back in Lemoore with Bob, despite returning to their original squadrons. She missed flying with Bob, but their weekly meet ups for movies and card games helped. After the uranium mission they seemed to gravitate to one another, no one else able to understand the weight of what they went through together, especially since it was top secret, and they weren’t allowed to speak of it. Between the bird strike and the mission, both of them had changed and they were thankful they had each other to lean on. Bob had suffered nightmares for a while and Phoenix had trouble enjoying things outside of work in the “real world” like she used to. Their friendship carried them through those foggy first few months post mission.

Things had started to feel warm and fuzzy to Natasha about three months after their return to Lemoore. She was spending a lot of time with Bob, and they had become relaxed with each other. Movie nights now consisted of Bob wrapping his arm around her while she leaned into his side or Phoenix running her hands through his hair when he laid his head in her lap on the couch. Card games now include occasional rubs of one foot on the others under the table. Trips into town might find them holding hands and the one Saturday they drove out to the coast Bob held her hand on the gear shift of his truck the whole way. Neither of them spoke of the closeness they were experiencing; it was comfortable and comforting and neither seemed to find issue with it or the need to discuss.

Phoenix returned to the small dinning nook where Bobs card table and folding chairs were set up. He was quite a minimalist, but she didn’t mind, up until now anyways. She plugged the phone in then flopped on to her backwards chair, straddling it in her plaid pajama pants and eyed Bob mischievously. Another rumble of thunder rattled the walls, and her grin grew in feigned innocence.

Bob looked up at her over his glasses with a furrowed brow, then back to his cards.

“Got any eights?”

“Go fish”

He grunted and picked up a card from the pile between them. “Phee, how is it possible you are so good at everything right down to child level card games?”

She giggled at her bespeckled best friend.

“What can I say? It’s a gift.” She winked at Bob, and he shook his head with a boyish grin.

“I’m pretty sure I’m a few cards away from owing you sushi.”

“I think you might be right.”

And he was. Moments later Phoenix won and jumped out of her chair, fist pumping the air victoriously. Bob just smiled at her then cleaned up the pile of cards.

“Movie time! What do you want to watch?” she asked, flitting into the living room, and flopping down onto the couch.

Bob called from the kitchen where he was cleaning up their snack mess from the table.

“I chose last week. It’s your turn.”

“Ok let me see what I can find.”

Bob joined her on the couch, pulling her legs into his lap as he sat next to her.

“My feet probably stink, Bob.”

“I don’t smell anything, so you’re good.”

She smirked and went back to scrolling through the movies on the streaming service app on Bobs tv.

Suddenly Phoenix sat up quickly, her legs flying out of his lap.

“OH!” she shouted, causing Bob to startle. “This is my favorite movie ever!”

“I thought Die Hard was your favorite?” He asked.

“That’s my favorite Christmas movie.”

“Phee. Die Hard is not a Christmas movie.”

“I’m not having this argument with you again for the hundredth time, Robert.” she said as she gently popped his chest with the back of her hand.

Bob put his hands up in defense then looked up at the screen to see a picture of a heavily made-up David Bowie surrounded by furry characters.

“Labyrinth? What’s it about?”

She whipped around on the couch to look at him with complete disbelief on her face.

“You’re joking? You’ve never heard of Labyrinth!? I know you’re a baby and all but it’s only one of the most amazing cult classics of the 1980’s. David Bowie, Jennifer Connelly, and a host of Jim Henson puppets.”

He smiled at her enthusiasm. “I am not that young and no, I haven’t. I’m gonna to be honest Phee, this surprises me.”

“What? Why?” she asked frowning.

“Your idea of a top-notch movie usually involves heavy gunfire and a string of cuss words throughout. Not Muppets.”

Phoenix rolled her eyes then pressed play. She shifted her legs around so she could lean into his side and Bob instinctively wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they settled in to watch the fantasy movie.

“Yeah well, this one is special from my childhood and my favorite song on the planet is in it.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’ll tell you which one when it pops up.”

The opening refrains of Bowie began to trickle through the surround sound as they relaxed together on the couch. Somewhere along the way Bob began to rub small circles on Nat’s bare arm and her head came to rest on his shoulder.

Later in the movie, the main character of Sarah bit into a laced peach and Natasha whispered up to Bob.

“This is it. The dream sequence has my favorite song.”

The light melody of As the World Falls Down by David Bowie began to serenade the masked dancers on screen and Natashas eyes lit up. She had always loved this part as a child. The stunning attire, the soft lullaby of the love song. As she grew up, she began to realize the whole movie was a euphemism for coming of age and the song gained all new meaning for her. The lyrics started to take the shape of her journey out into the real world. College, commissioning, flight school, and traveling the globe. She missed her picturesque childhood, but it was time to grow up, whether she wanted to or not. The only thing she hadn’t found along the way was the magical love story she thought she would have when she watched the costumed actors waltz around the dreamscape as a young girl.  What she considered the last card in the grown-up deck. She had relationships over the years, but nothing that swept her off her feet the way she thought would happen. No one had promised her mornings of gold or Valentine evenings like the song said, but she was hopeful that might change, sooner or later.

Once Sarah shattered the walls of the fancy ballroom, ending the pretty scene, Bob reached over to grab the remote from the coffee table and paused the movie. Phoenix didn’t move other than to pick up her head and look at him questioningly.

“Phee. The movie is weird. But that song is beautiful. I can see why you like it. It’s sort of sad too.”

She gave him a gentle smile. “It really is. And this scene has always been magical but also sad for me. Romantic and whimsical. Sarah’s caught between being a child and a woman and all the things she thinks she wants but also the things she doesn’t realize yet she will miss about being a kid. I relate to the song and the themes of the movie.”

“You do?” He questioned.

“Sure. I had a normal, happy childhood, but like most kids, I couldn’t wait to grow up. I wanted the adventure, the freedom, the uh” she hesitated, lowering her eyes to his chest, “um, love, found only in the grown-up world. Now though, I wish I could go back sometimes. I love my life, but I miss the, um, innocence of being a kid. The tough stuff like top secret scary missions didn’t exist yet.” She nudged him with a knowing look, and he grinned.

“Good at kid’s card games and carrying philosophical conversation about children’s movies to boot. You’re not as scary as people think you are.” He mused.

She snickered and lightly elbowed him in the ribs. “Yes I am.”

Bob grunted on impact, then blew out a heavy breath. “Fine. You’re not as scary as I thought you were. You’re just a big softy.” And he winked at her.

Another bang of thunder rolled through the skies above and they both jumped.

“We better finish this before the power goes out.” She said and he mumbled his agreement, pressing play on the remote again.

The storm began to clear out as the movie came to an end. Phoenix stood and stretched her arms over head while Bob turned the TV off.

“Final verdict?” She asked when he stood up next to her.

“I still say weird, but Bowie’s music is brilliant and it’s definitely a unique way of portraying the transition from child to getting older. 4 out of 5 stars.”

She smiled at him adoringly before patting his cheek and heading for the entry way.

“I’m glad you liked it. I think our friendship would be over if you hadn’t.” she said with a laugh as she scooped up her backpack from the floor and started rummaging for her keys.

“Nat?” she turned to face Bob while shimmying into her sneakers.

He seemed nervous, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Were you planning to go to Captain Holloways wedding next weekend?”

That wasn’t what she was expecting. They both received invitations, but they hadn’t really talked about it.

“I don’t know, you?”

“Well. I was thinking.” He ran his right hand through his hair, stalling. “That is. Do you want to go with me?” He rocked back and forth from his toes to his heels like a rocking horse, his shoulders all the way to his ears as he waited for her to respond.

“Oh! Why Robert Floyd, are you asking me to be your date?” She crossed her arms with a questioning smirk on her face.

His cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “Well, ah, Yeah, I guess I am. But” he put both hands up defensively and his words rushed out. “I get it if you don’t want to go. Or go with me. We can just meet up there if you want. Or do something else? Shoot. I bet you already have a date. Or I don’t have to go at all if you want to go with someone else or go alone. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been presumptuous. You know what? Let’s just forget I asked.” And he let out a nervous chuckle.

Phoenix had not changed body or face position through his little freak out. She found him absolutely adorable when he was nervous. Inside a plane he was steady as the driving rain outside, but on the ground, he was shy, and it was endearing.

“Bob” she said, then she took the three steps across the entry way to stand in front of him. Phoenix placed her hands on his biceps, rose up on her tippy toes, and lightly pecked him on the cheek. “I’d love to be your date for the wedding. Pick me up at 6?” Then she gave him a brilliant smile.

Relief washed over his face. This sweet man was really starting to create warm feelings in her that she wasn’t expecting but didn’t hate.

“Oh, ok. Great. I’ll pick you up at 6 then. You be careful out there going home, ok?” She removed her hands from his arms then slid them around his midsection to hug him. He wrapped his long lanky arms around her and gave her a light squeeze over her backpack.

“I will. See you tomorrow.” And with one last sweet smile she grabbed her umbrella from the porch, popped it open, and darted out into the muggy drizzle, an extra bounce to her steps as she made a beeline for her car.

 Several days later, after a busy week at work, Phoenix was staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. It had been a long time since she had attended a wedding, or any sort of formal event, that wasn’t for the military and didn’t involve her dress uniform. The ceremony was going to be outside overlooking a vineyard, the reception in an open-air barn, and it was quite warm for May in southern California. Many of her coworkers would be in attendance, including her very special date, so she knew she was never going to hear the end of it when they caught sight of her in something other than a flight suit for once.

 She spent the afternoon before at a local department store trying on dresses. She honestly didn’t even own an appropriate dress for an evening summer wedding. The few dresses she owned were tiny, black, and were rarely donned. She must have tried on at least 25 dresses, looking for the right one. If she was honest with herself, she was a little nervous. Yes, she and Bob had been friends for a while now, but this felt different. It was different. The little butterflies in her stomach told her things were changing and that thought both scared her and thrilled her. He was so different from anyone she had ever been with before. His strength wasn’t in his brawn or bravado, it was in his quiet determination, unyielding devotion, and his rarely shared dry wit. He was handsome in an old Hollywood sort of way, and he never tried to make her feel small, obviously not scared of a female leader. She could admit that their friendship was based, at first, on trauma bonding but had since evolved into something she trusted. She just hoped he felt the same way. He did ask her out after all, so surely, he felt the shift in their relationship too.

The dress she settled on was a pale pink satin draped dress with spaghetti straps. She purchased a simple shawl in an even softer pink shade and nude kitten heels to go with it. Her hair was always up in the regulation bun so tonight she put a little curl in it and left it down, her grandmother’s pearl earrings completing the ensemble. Natasha ran her hands over the smooth fabric as she studied herself in the mirror. She felt one hundred percent confident until it came to her feminine side. She loved being a woman and pretty things, but she was more prepared to fly an F/A-18 in drab green flight suits and kick back for beers with the guys after work than step out for a night on the town in a slinky pink dress. Just as she was preparing to talk herself out of going, she heard a knock at her front door.

Shit. Bobs here. Too late now.

Giving herself one more glance in the mirror, she hesitantly tucked a small strand of hair behind her ear, placed her phone in her small clutch, and headed for the door. With one last deep breath, she opened the door and watched the pool-blue eyes on the other side grow exponentially in a matter of seconds.

Phoenix watched Bob swallow hard and begin to stammer but bless the man no actual words came out at first. She managed a small smile at him and his large grin in return made her heart flutter.

He cleared his throat then tried again. “Wow, uh Phee, you look, um, just wow.” His cheeks were bright red.

Bob looked incredibly attractive in a tailored three-piece grey suit with a white shirt and a striped tie in darker shades of blue. Phoenix felt a little flustered as well, not just from Bobs reaction but her own attraction to the handsome WSO in front of her. She stepped out of the apartment, locking the door behind her, then turned back to Bob’s still wide eyes. With a small giggle she pecked his cheek.

“You’re pretty wow yourself. Ready to go?”

Bob shook his head, seeming to clear fog from his mind, letting out a small chuckle as he offered his elbow for Phoenix to take. “Yes mam.” And they took off for the evening.  

The ceremony was nothing short of spectacular. The sunset showed gorgeous hues of purple and orange as the couple said their vows and exchanged rings. Somewhere in the middle of the captains’ vows while he spoke of feeling whole and complete by his soon to be wife, Bobs hand slid over and picked up Phoenix hand, wrapping his fingers between hers and moving it until both of their hands came to rest on his leg, his eyes remaining transfixed on the alter ahead. Phoenix tensed briefly, her eyes shifting sideways then quickly to their joined hands and finally back to the service. Was she sweating? Between the heavy emotions of the wedding, the story book surroundings, and Bobs large, calloused hand gripping hers, Phoenix skin was prickling warm, and her heart fluttered in her chest.

Once the groom kissed his bride and the procession was completed, the guests made their way to the outdoor barn for the cocktail hour and reception. Bobs hand slipped to Phoenix lower back as he gently guided her along the brick path toward the glowing string lights twinkling above the tables of the party area. Soft music played from the DJ stand as they gathered drinks from the bar and made their way to the seats at a round table labeled with their names on dainty gold embossed cards. Before she could say or do anything, Bob pulled her chair out for her with a gentle grin. Phoenix returned the smile and thanked him as she took her seat amongst some fellow aviators from various squadrons at Lemoore and their dates.

Once seated, Bob leaned over and whispered low in her ear “Thank you for coming with me. You’re so beautiful Phee. I’m honored to have the prettiest date here.”

Phoenix turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his glowing blue orbs, and the butterflies in her tummy began to dance all at once. She could feel warmth creeping up her cheeks. He was too sweet for words, and she knew she was falling hard.

“Thank you for asking me. I’m having a wonderful time. And you’re not too bad yourself.” She said as she reached up to straighten his tie.

He smiled at her, a full, toothy smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and she returned the smile wholeheartedly.

All through dinner and the initial formalities such as a toast and first dance, Bob continued to land gentle touches to Phoenix, sending chills along her body even through the warmth of the Southern California evening. At one point he wrapped his arm around the back of her chair and began rubbing tiny circles on her bare arm while he carried an idle conversation about something work related with the pilot sitting next to him. They didn’t speak out loud to each other much, choosing to just relax and enjoy the joyous atmosphere around them as their tablemates came and went. An hour or so into the event, the party really kicked up when the dance floor opened, and the DJ began turning various tunes from slow country to club beats.

Bob and Phoenix decided to find the Bride and Groom to give them their congratulations then mingle amongst their friends and colleagues. Phoenix ended up surrounded by several ladies she knew, some from work and some the spouses or girlfriends of other aviators. The gaggle began praising her looks, asking questions about her dress and shoes. Phoenix was so wrapped up in the conversation, trying not to appear as uncomfortable as she felt, that she didn’t notice her date slip away.

A soft melody began to float through the air, and she recognized the early refrain immediately. It was her song. The one she loved so much from her favorite movie. Phoenix excused herself quickly, turning to search for the person she knew had to be responsible. Standing a few feet away, next to the dance floor, was Bob, his outstretched hand beckoning her to join him. She closed the distance between them and slid her hand into his, allowing him to lead her to the middle of the dance floor.

He spun her slowly under their joined hands then wrapped his empty arm around her waist, pulling her in close to his chest, their joined hands coming to rest over his heart. The movements took her breath away. The whole thing was straight out of her childhood dreams. They swayed to the melody under the twinkling lights and her heart all but burst. Bob pulled her so close that her head came to rest sideways on his chest and she heard his dulcet tones begin to sing the song quietly into her head.

I’ll paint you mornings of gold

I’ll spin you Valentine evenings

Though we’re strangers until now

We’re choosing the path

Between the stars

I’ll leave my love

Between the stars

She looked up at him with surprise. “You learned the words!?”

His soft smile matched the gentle look in his eyes. “I listened to it on repeat for the last three days.”

She didn’t know what to say, this was something straight out of a fairytale. Out of her dreams. He requested her song. He made her imagination come to life. Phoenix knew nothing in her life could ever overwhelm her emotions like this beautiful moment with her Bob. As she began to fight the tears pooling in her eyes, she laid her head back on his chest and continued to sway as the song came to an end. Even after the tune changed to another slow song, they just stood still, holding each other. Phoenix could feel Bobs heart pounding through his chest, and she knew her own heart matched his rushing rhythm.

She barely heard his whisper above the sounds of the party around her. “Wanna get out of here?”

Not trusting her voice as she still fought back tears, she shook her head in affirmative. His hand still holding hers moved to raise her chin and their eyes met, his looking slightly wet like hers. “Your place?” he asked nervously, his cerulean eyes searching hers.

Phoenix released a small gasp, understanding the implications of his question, then nodded her head yes as she let out a breathy “yes.”

The ride back to her small two-bedroom bungalow was quiet, Bobs old truck rumbling down the road with tender tunes on the radio and his hand holding hers on the gear shift. They didn’t look at each other, nervous tension instead filling the cab. He pulled into her driveway and hurried out of the truck, practically sprinting around to the passenger side to open her door. He offered his hand, and she took it, not ever saying a word as they walked hand in hand up to the small wooden porch. She began to open her small clutch to pull out her keys but his large hand reached up and brushed the back of her hand, stopping her movements.

“Phee” he whispered, and she looked up at him, watching his eyes cloud over. Bobs hands worked their way across the slippery fabric covering her hips and he pulled her in impossibly close. Then their lips met, slowly. Stars exploded behind her closed eyes, blinding her in white light that felt warm and inviting. His lips were smooth and moved hesitantly at first. With her ears ringing she pushed into his lips slightly and he understood her nudge, deepening the kiss assuredly. Phoenix wrapped her arms under his and around his waist as she opened her mouth slightly, allowing him entrance. So many words unspoken poured into their kiss, and the world fell down. Her walls slipped away and she realized all at once that this was the love she had been hoping for.

All at once she broke the kiss, her eyes watching his flutter open confused. She was a little breathless but she gave him a soft smile.

“Stay with me?” she asked, feeling extremely shy and vulnerable.

The almost startled expression his face shown caused her to giggle, but he managed to shake his head yes before she opened the door and led him into her dark house by his hand. Bob barely got the door closed behind him as she walked him through the house to her tiny back bedroom. Once they reached the door, she dropped his hand to enter the room and turn on the bedside lamp. He remained in the doorway, and she looked over her shoulder with a smile at him, dropping her shawl and clutch on the bedside table before she began to remove her earrings. It was like an intimate dance. His eyes were on her as she removed small articles, a show she was putting on just for him. A way of saying thank you for the special night and that she wanted this with him. She hoped she wasn’t coming on too strong to scare him away. If she really admitted the truth to herself, she had wanted Bob in this way for a long time.

Just as she was about to tell him they could just watch a movie if he wanted, she watched him strode into the room, coming to stand behind her. She was just placing the second earring on the bedside table as she felt his hands slide around her waist from behind. Her hands came to rest on his and then her body shuddered when his lips met the bare skin of her shoulder.

“Phee.” He barely said above a whisper. Then he kissed slightly higher, sending a chill straight down her spine when his warm lips met the sensitive skin where her shoulder met her neck.  “Look at me.”

She turned in his arms until they were eye to eye, her head craned back to look up at him. Bobs large hand ghosted across her cheek and into her hair, tucking a few strands behind her ear. Then that hand cupped the side of her neck, and he pulled her in for another languid kiss. Her skin felt on fire, everywhere. Phoenix had never felt this way before and she couldn’t believe what was happening, but in the best way possible. She broke the kiss with a small pop of their lips and once his eyes were open and on her she all but blurted out “I love you, Bob.”

Embarrassment at her hasty declaration was coloring her cheeks and he let out a chuckle that made her squirm with further mortification. But if Bob noticed, he didn’t say anything. He simply guided his other hand to the other side of her neck and smiled the most brilliant smile before returning her words. “I love you Natasha Trace.”

She could feel the tears welling in her eyes again as she found her words again. She felt bold as she stood up straighter and asked, “Stay with me?”

He kissed the tip of her nose then said through a smile “As long as you’ll have me.”

The next few moments were a blur of touching and kissing. Her hands worked the buttons of his vest and undoing his tie while his slid the zipper of her dress down her back. Once the tie and vest were off, she guided the straps of her dress down her arms, letting it drop to the floor. There she stood in nothing but her white strapless bra, a thin white thong, and her heels. She felt exposed and unsure of what to do as his eyes looked down her body then back up, taking her in.

“God Phee, you’re stunning. I’m, uh, I’m.” He hesitated as his eyes met her again. “I’m honored that you trust me like this.”

There was the confidence she loved hidden under the shyness. His appreciation of her was nothing she had ever experienced before, and she suddenly didn’t feel so uncertain anymore. She knew she wanted to share herself with him and in turn, take him in. Her damp eyes remained on his as her hands swiftly worked the buttons of his dress shirt open, practically ripping it off of him. Then her eyes grew wide.

“Robert Floyd, you’ve been keeping a secret.” She rasped with a mischievous look on her face. He began to blush under her scrutiny, and she giggled. Phoenix ran her manicured fingernails down his chiseled abs as she reached for his pant button.

After that, all clothes removed and his glasses discarded by her pearl earrings, they slid slowly onto her bed, a tangling of hands and kisses full of love and admiration. He worshipped her skin with his lips and touches, leaving no spot untouched. Phoenix felt like she was going to melt away, the heat of her body searing with each feather light kiss he left. He worked his way down her body, then back up, her chest now rising and falling quickly with pants of lust. She had never needed someone so much in her life as she needed Robert Floyd at that very moment. While he nibbled on the juncture of her shoulder and neck, she turned her head toward his and whispered into his ear.

“Love me. Please? Make love to me?” she asked with assurance.  

Bobs eyes met hers, looking a little surprised at first, then they relaxed, a dazed grin crossing his lips. He lowered his head to kiss her as he moved himself between her legs.

It was slow and burning and passionate and beyond any of her wildest dreams. Their bodies rocked in tandem as he whispered his love onto her lips. He filled her body and spirit with everything they had been feeling for months and she couldn’t pull him close enough to her. They became one. It overwhelmed her, made her feel desperate on a whole new level she didn’t know she could feel.

The feelings overtook her, and she began to whimper as she met the most beautiful sensation she had ever felt before. Hot and freeing. She found what she had been missing. Her new favorite song became the pants of her name on his lips over and over again his own finality was reached.

A mess of hot breath, rapidly rising and falling chests, and wet eyes lay stilling in the hazy lamp light. A single tear escaped her eye, and he caught it with his finger as it ran down her cheek. Bob rolled them over and tucked her small frame into his side as their breath slowed. She felt him gently kiss the top of her head.

“Thank you.” He said through ragged breaths.

She sat up on her elbow and looked at him, trying to convey with her face all the love she felt in that moment.

“No. Thank you. For making my fairytale come true.” They smiled at each other before she moved back to his side, and she realized Bob was the morning of gold she had been waiting for. Her world was no longer falling down, and she drifted off to sleep feeling he had placed the moon within her heart. She wanted to follow a path between the stars with him forever.

[rainwaterapothecary]

"Unsettled" pt. 4

Serennedy Golden Compass au - [Pt. 1][Pt. 2][Pt.3][Lore overview]

Luis' Arctic Islands Safehouse, 1947.

They made it far enough into Leon’s stay for him to start examining the cabin before the truth came out.

Frankly, Leon and Panza were surprised their chatterbox friend was able to keep his peace for that long.

Although, his verbosity was only matched by his penchant for doom.

The scientist spent a good fifteen minutes pacing the cabin and talking with his daemon through their link, picking up journals or books before putting them back down.

When Leon caught long, tanned fingers beginning to brush over Panza’s bracelet in an anxious tic, he settled in for the full story and pulled the proverbial pin.

“So…what are you doing up here? Not that I’m not ecstatic to see you, I mean, you look amazing and me ‘n Fiorire have missed you like burning, but… The North Pole?”

“It’s all my fault.”

Leon had to tilt his head to hear better.

“What?”

“I said, it’s all my fault! I’m the reason you’re here at all!”

“I’m pretty sure the United States Military is the reason-“

“¡Cállate! How do you think the military got the idea?”

“Plagiarism sounds about right-” The blond raised an eyebrow.

“No! Leon, you don’t understand!” Luis' hands flew to his own curls, clenching them in emotional agony to center himself. Leon raised an eyebrow and settled his free hand on Fiorire’s head.

“I wasn’t there, Leon, but I was- my research was-“

As Luis turned away, the overhead light caught a flash of gray.

Leon knew that fear in Luis’ eyes.

That was the terror of a small child on an abandoned playground who was about to lose everything dear to him.

His stomach swooped and his hand clenched her fur tighter.

“I’m the reason this whole ring of hell exists.” If it wasn’t deathly silent in the small cabin, Leon would have had to strain to hear what his friend had said.

“What are you saying, Lu?” Gooseflesh had spread across Leon’s arms and the back of his neck at the implications of what his friend was confessing. He ached to press his fist into the space in his chest that held her Tether, just to remind himself that nothing was tearing it out of his sinews and crumpling his lungs like-

“It was my research that proved distance could be put between man and daemon without turning it into Dust. I just wanted to help people, keep their daemons safe… I couldn’t fight, no one would let me fight, then the United States Government said they wanted my mind and I knew about the draft and the thought that you- That she-“

His hand twitched first at Leon and then at his wolf. Big, agonized gray eyes turned their full, pleading force on the seated man.

“Could be killed just because a stray bullet hit one of you-! I- I-“

Luis hadn’t looked this small since Leon watched him sail out of his life. The scientist’s breathing stuttered and he held the tiny head of his bird daemon close.

His shoulders sagged and he said his next sentence into the soft, feline fur of Panza’s shoulder.

“It was how Abuelo died and I couldn’t let that happen again. Nunca más.”

“Wait, Abuelo is dead?” Before the sentence was completely out of his mouth, Luis and Panza sagged into his chair.

“Sí- He…he passed a year or so after we made it back. He was out hunting and a rabid wolf attacked him. Galatea stood between them, I guess, and by the time they got back into town he was bleeding and she was barely breathing.”

Wide, gold eyes snapped to Leon’s, pleading for understanding- begging the human to keep his person from completing the story.

Then Luis shook off Leon’s gentle hand on his shoulder and took in a shuddering breath.

“She d-“ His voice broke and the story finished in a whisper. “She died first, right on our kitchen table. Her Dust was… it was beautiful. Unearthly, in a way, but I would have given anything to have her back.” Leon’s expression crumbled and he felt his eyes mist. He knew what happened next. He’d seen it happen often enough on the front lines and or when a daemon took a hit meant for its human.

Fading.

The human would fade. Little by little, then all at once.

“He asked me, with his eyes, you know. He asked me to kill him.”

If Leon’s grasp got any tighter on Fiorire’s scruff she would have to nip him to let go, but the alternative was reaching over the table and gathering the crumbling scientist into his arms and that… Well, with Panza in the way, what chance did Leon have?

At the moment Luis’ daemon was a small, black cat that fit perfectly into his arms, where Luis cradled him before shooting to his feet. He began to pace, Panza’s tail trailing through the air in their wake.

Leon sat back on his chair and exchanged a look with his own daemon, though his mind was far away.

Abuelo Serra was an incredibly pious man. Faith was as much a part of him as Galatea, woven into him and reflecting him in everything he did. Never in a bigoted way, in fact, the only time Leon ever saw Abuelo set his jaw was when a priest learned about Luis and tried to ‘convert’ him.

Rafael Ruiz Serra never raised his hand in anger to any man, but he gave that bible-thumper a Look that would have made the gargoyles on the old churches hold their hats to their chests.

Then, with one hand on Luis’ shoulder and the other holding Leon back by the center of his chest, Abuelo Serra told that preacher that there was nothing wrong with his grandson and that the priest should look a little harder at the book he reads from every Sunday.

God the Father and their Mother Mary loved his grandson, that should be enough for any of their servants.

Luis had gone from holding back tears to barely controlling all the love that wanted to radiate out of his little body.

Leon wasn’t far behind.

…That man would not have committed suicide like the men Leon had fought beside.

Not someone so faithful and trusting.

He hugged Fiorire’s head and tried to make his breaths as even as possible. For Luis.

“What happened?” His whisper sounded like a gunshot. Luis froze, his fingers in claws around Panza’s sides.

“He…he left me to bury her in the forest and never came back. He kept her in a little glass jar, in the end.”

Leon broke at the weight of Luis’ words. The picture they painted.

Hands slid from Fiorire to gather Luis to his chest in one fluid movement.

Luis buried his face in Panza’s fur and shook apart.

Both men sucked in a breath when a warm weight leaned into Luis’ leg, supporting him from the side where her human was holding him together.

Being touched by another daemon is…

It’s like brushing your fingers across the Dust that makes up the bond between man and soul.

Leon held him tighter before the man and his cat shared a nod.

Luis’ now-free arm slid between his friend’s shoulders and pulled him into his own chest, Panza closing the gap by butting his head into Leon’s diaphragm.

All air went out of Leon’s lungs at the sensation.

After weeks in a cage having his other half shredded, years of brutality in a war that covered him in the blood and Dust of men and their companions, a lifetime of being on the outside looking in, an immigrant boy forced to flee from his family to a new world with only his stern Sicilian grandmother to keep him on the ground…

Being held by two daemons and the boy who knew him best was a sensation that was overwhelming each and every aspect of what made Leon… well, him.

A small hiccupping sob left one of their mouths and the other leaned in further, bringing all four of them to their knees in the little cabin surrounded by snow but filled with home.

---

A/N It's been too long fam .... I think this calls for a double upload today, what do you think? ;) ¡Cállate! - Shut up! Nunca más. - Never again. This chapter is Abuelo, next chapter is... Leon >U>

[Pt. 5]

As always, memes and brainrot are under the #serennedy daemon au tag on my blog ^^

[kelyon]

Wrapping Up Her Christmas Gift 1/2

My Rumbelle Secret Santa gift for @99goosebumps!

The prompt was: "Rumbelle pegging, both in lingerie"

This is technically a continuation of my fic "Begging on His Bended Knees." You don't need to read that fic to understand this one.

Read on AO3

Chapter two is here

“You like soft things, don’t you, Theo?”

  Belle French slid the fabric over her submissive’s outstretched palm. In the revamped office building that housed Belle’s professional dungeon, Theo Gold knelt in front of her wingback chair. He was blindfolded and stripped to the waist. She rubbed the dark green silk across his bare wrist.

“Yes, Mistress Belle.” His voice had that dazed, breathy quality that came over him whenever he really got into a scene. “I like things that are soft.”

“Soft and smooth,” she sing-songed. “Silky and satiny.” 

Using the fabric, she stroked up his arm and down his naked back. Theo often needed time at the beginning of their sessions to warm up to being touched. He didn’t get a lot of it in his normal life.

“You like fine things,” she told him. “You like quality, and beauty.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he whispered. 

“Do you want to look beautiful, Theo?”

Even through the blindfold, she could see his eyebrows furrow. He swallowed hard before he answered. 

“Yes, Mistress. I want to be beautiful for you.”

Belle tutted. With one finger, she lifted his chin. “No, no, my Theo. This isn’t something we’re doing for me. We’re doing it for you. I’m going to ask again, and I want you to answer correctly this time: Do you want to look beautiful?”

He clenched his jaw. His hands balled into fists. When the words came, they seemed to have been dragged out from the depths of his heart. 

“Yes, Mistress. I want to be beautiful for me.”

“Good.” She cradled his face in her hands, removed the blindfold so he could see her sincerity. “Good boy, Theo.”

With a shaking breath, he accepted her praise. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Belle stroked his hair and murmured how good he was, how proud she was of him. 

She was proud of him. It had been a long road for the fearsome Mr. Gold to admit he needed all the things society told him not to want. A powerful man wasn’t supposed to yearn for weakness. He wasn’t supposed to let himself be vulnerable, to open himself up for pain and ridicule. A real man wasn’t supposed to take joy in softness and beauty. He wasn’t supposed to crave such things, especially not for himself. Theo did. He wanted the frivolous and the decorative, the lovely and the weak. He wanted to be those things. 

Belle never tired of giving him ways to be himself. 

When he was ready, she set him on his knees again and stood up. With the blindfold off, Theo had full freedom to look at her. His dark brown eyes shone as he drank her in. He looked from her high-heeled, thigh-high, red vinyl boots, to her flared red skirt lined with white fake fur, to her red corset, red opera gloves, and jaunty Santa hat. 

It was Christmas Eve, and neither of them had anywhere they’d rather be. 

Belle held up the green silk she’d been rubbing him with, pinching it between her thumbs and forefingers so he could see the shape of the panties. 

“Can you put these on by yourself? Or do you want me to help you?”

Theo licked his lips. “I--I can do it,” he said softly. “Though I may need your help with the corset.”

“Of course.” Belle put the panties in his open hands and sat back down in her chair. It was the perfect place to watch him. “Anything for my sweet Theo.”

****

 Gold gripped the material, crushing it with the force of his need. He was already hard, though just being around Mistress Belle was enough to do that to him. All of his scenes with her were good, but this was a special night. This was the culmination of everything they had done so far, the first step of a new journey.

His cane was on the floor beside him. Mistress was always so good about keeping track of it. He picked it up and used it to get to his feet. He was shirtless, but had kept his shoes on. Whenever possible, he kept his feet covered, so Mistress wouldn’t be troubled by the scars on his bad ankle.  

He sat on the chaise lounge across the room from Mistress’ chair. As he removed his shoes and socks, he kept himself from stealing glances at her. He had to believe what she told him, instead of looking for lies. She wanted him to do this, he told himself. It was safe. She wasn’t going to mock and deride him like any normal person would. She had a plan. He had to trust her.

Trust did not come easily to Gold. Mistress Belle had earned it over months of sessions. Over and over, she had proved her professionalism, her compassion, and her genuine desire to do what was good for him. This would be good for him. She would take care of him, as no one in his life ever had. 

It was easier to take off his boxers than it had been to take off his socks. There was nothing extraordinary about his cock, either towards the good or the bad. Mistress was more than familiar with male anatomy, including his. It didn’t bother her to see his erection; she always said she took it as a compliment. Gold had nothing to be embarrassed about.

Carefully balancing from one leg to the other, he slid his panties over his legs and up to his hips. His first sensation was of tightness. A yielding pressure against his skin, like someone cupping his groin and his buttocks at the same time. 

God. It almost felt like an embrace.

His fingers twitched as he rubbed his hand over his hipbone. The change from warm skin to cool silk and back to skin was intoxicating. The panties had a full back, which covered his arse, but there was an exposed V over the center of his backside that was fronted with lace. Reaching back, Gold touched that area. He savored the texture. He had always liked touching lace on a woman. It was a thrill to feel it on himself. Next time, he would wear something that was all lace.

For now, the silk was smooth and luxurious, completely without flaw. It was enough to have it under his hands, let alone to wear it on his body. Slowly, he dragged his palm over his groin--until Mistress cleared her throat and he snatched his hand away. 

“I know you’re excited,” she said patiently.  “I’m excited too. But you have to follow the rules, even at Christmastime. What is the rule, Theo?”

“I mustn’t touch my cock until you say, Mistress.” The words flew out of him like a lesson learned by rote, a lesson he had long ago memorized and imprinted on his heart.

“Correct,” she said, with a touch of imperiousness. The tone suited her. Mistress Belle deserved to be treated like a great lady. 

“I am sorry, Mistress,” Gold said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to disobey you. I wasn’t trying to touch myself.” He gulped. “Please don’t say I can’t put on the rest of my clothes.”

It was an unlikely punishment for an infraction so minor, but there was something thrilling about begging his Mistress for mercy. It felt cathartic--perhaps because he knew that she would always do what was best for him. Either she would grant him mercy, or the punishment she gave him would be fair and restorative. Mistress Belle  was a benevolent goddess, not a vindictive one. 

She laughed indulgently at his plea. “Don’t be silly, sweet Theo. I’m not going to deny you this experience. Not unless you start acting very naughty.”

“I won’t,” he promised. More than anything in the world, he wanted to be good for his Mistress. 

“I know,” she smiled. Her blue eyes twinkled. Her lips were as red as her holiday costume.  “Why don’t you put on your garter belt next?”

Gold looked down at the coffee table, where all his paraphernalia was laid out. The garter belt was the same shiny forest green as the rest of the set. Since it was mostly straps, it lacked the expanse of smoothness that the panties provided. It wasn’t Gold’s favorite part of the ensemble, but he would need to wear it if he was going to keep his stockings up.

He placed the garter belt across his waist, then reached both hands behind him to fasten it. The hooks were damnably small and hard to feel out. How was anyone supposed to pull this thing together when they couldn’t look at it?

“Do you need help, Theo?” Mistress asked after a moment. From the amusement in her voice, she knew very well that he was out of his depth. The question was a reminder of the core principle of their dynamic: She would give him what he wanted, as long as he asked her for it.

He lowered his arms and looked at the floor when he spoke to her.

“Mistress, will you please help me?”

Only then did she stand, with a bright smile on her face. “Why, Theo! How clever of you to ask! I would be more than happy to help you dress.” 

He kept his eyes lowered as she came behind him and put her hands on his waist. She took the garter belt and moved it around so the fastenings were in front of him. Reaching around him, her gloved hands lined the hooks into the loops so the belt was a complete circle around his abdomen. Then she pulled it around him again so the clasp was on his back where it belonged.

“That’s how you can do it if you’re ever alone,” she said as she smoothed the straps. “When I’m with you, of course you should always ask for help.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

There was the slightest constriction around his stomach when he breathed. He liked it. It was like having Mistress’ arms around him every moment, a constant reminder of who he was and why he was doing this.

“Sit down now,” she ordered. Gold instantly obeyed. “Do you know how to roll on a pair of stockings?”

It felt good to sit. How did she know? He had been standing for too long, putting all his weight on one leg. Mistress took such good care of him. 

“I think I do,” he answered her question. “Will you correct me, if I do it wrong?”

“I will.” She towered over him in her platform boots. Her arms crossed over her chest, which pushed up the pale globes of her breasts. 

Gold swallowed and looked down again. He couldn’t get distracted by her beauty, not now. Not when she had given him a task to complete.

He picked up one of the stockings. They were also green, dark enough to cover up anything unsightly. He gathered the fabric up into a ring and placed one foot into the hole. Slowly, careful not to snag on anything, he lifted his leg to pull the stocking up.

Mistress Belle chuckled. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Gold stopped what he was doing to look up at her. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “It’s from a movie. Don’t worry about it. You’re doing very well, Theo.”

He did the same thing with the other stocking, then stood up to fasten the tops to the straps that hung down from the garter belt. With his cane in one hand, he presented himself.

“Did I do well, Mistress?”

She looked him up and down. “You’re not straight.”

Despite himself, Gold let out a laugh. “You know, I have been re-considering that lately.”

She snorted, and waved her hand as if to swat him. “That’s not what I mean, silly Theo. I’m looking at your stockings.”

A bright red line ran up the back of Gold’s stockings. Turning his head, he could see how the line on his bad leg was decidedly slanted. 

“May I touch you, Theo?” Belle asked softly. “May I help make you beautiful?”

Gripping his cane, Gold lifted his bad leg up for her ministrations. “Please,” he whispered. “Please help me, Mistress.”

He had never known her not to be gentle, even when doling out punishments, but she seemed especially careful when she put her hands near his leg. She straightened the line of his stocking and smoothed out the material. Her touch lingered on his ankle, warm and soothing. Could she feel the raised scars through the fabric? Did she want to see them? Was it out of morbid fascination or something more sympathetic? Could Mistress treasure the most grotesque part of his body in the same way she reveled in the perversions of his mind?

Would he ever be brave enough to find out?

She stood up. Neither of them spoke. Mistress Belle picked the corset up off the table and handed it to him. Gold was able to fasten the metal loops over the metal pegs in the front, but it was up to her to finish the lacing. It was an underbust corset, the top edge a flat line just under his nipples. With every pull of the laces, there was a feeling of tightness, but it wasn’t constricting. Gold felt contained in the corset. He felt safe. He was as protected in lingerie as he was in his three-piece suits. 

“Is that tight enough?” Mistress asked. “Is it too tight? Take a deep breath for me, Theo.”

He obeyed. His chest filled the corset. Somehow, it felt like the deepest breath he had ever taken.

“You look so lovely,” she said. “Truly, you do, my Theo.”

Gold’s cheeks burned. He ducked his head. “Thank you, Mistress.”

The last part of his outfit was a pair of elbow-length silk gloves. He had been worried about them. Much of his body could fit in women’s sizes, but his hands were indisputably male. Fortunately, there was a whole subculture of men who wore opera gloves with surprising regularity. Gold didn’t like to think of what he was doing as drag, but he was more than happy to buy from a drag queen supplier. 

The gloves were dark and elegant. His hands glided over his clothes, over his skin. The gloves made everything he touched feel smooth and sleek and lovely. They made him feel lovely, at least to the touch. And Mistress said he was lovely to look at. 

He let out a shuddering sigh, his only way of voicing the yearning that consumed him. His eyes fluttered closed as he touched his own body. It was broken and sagging and old, but somehow it was lovely, lovely, lovely. 

Tears leaked from his closed eyes as he caressed himself. Gold embraced the feeling. The same awe and wonder he normally only expressed for his mistress, now he felt it for himself. He was beautiful, like she said. He loved beauty. He could love himself.

He never thought he could feel this way. For years, he had denied himself even the desire to love himself. Why want something when it would never happen? 

It was happening now. Mistress Belle had made it happen. She allowed him to want again, and she had given him what he wanted. 

When he opened his eyes, she was looking at him. Her expression was soft and misty.

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

“For what?”

She reached out to take his hand. A red glove enveloped green, both of them satiny and beautiful. Mistress Belle came closer still, to kiss a tear away from his cheek.

“Thank you for letting me see your joy, Theo.”

He let out a breath, a hollow laugh. “Thank you for giving it to me.”

Smiling, Mistress shook her head. She picked a final item up off the coffee table. It was a length of green ribbon, with a festive bow at the midpoint. Coming behind him, she tied it loosely around his neck, like a collar. Then she turned him around to face her. She fingered the bow that nestled neatly in the hollow of his throat, underneath his Adam’s apple. 

“You’re my present,” she said softly. It was almost like she was talking to herself. “I don’t need anything else.”

If this was happening outside a scene, Gold would ask her what she meant. If she wasn’t his mistress but just Belle, he would offer to give her anything. He had enough money to buy her whatever she could ask for and her happiness would be worth the price. This woman had saved him. She had soothed the ache in his heart. It destroyed him to think she might suffer an ache as well. What was her true desire? What did she want? He would do anything to help her, but in their present roles, ‘anything’ had a very narrow definition. 

Somehow, she seemed to understand. Meaning passed between them without words. So much between Belle French and Theodore Gold could not be said. It could only be felt. Both of them knew that. Both of them tried to live with it.

Mistress hadn’t taken her hands away from his throat. A red-gloved fingertip brushed his long hair back behind his ear, revealing more of his face. She traced over his forehead, his cheek, his jaw. Her touch trailed down the nape of his neck and over his bare shoulders. She grazed down his arm, to the tips of his own gloved fingers, and then back up to his chest. She tweaked his nipples, felt the new curve the corset brought to his waist. 

Lower and lower, inch by inch, she claimed him with her touch. She fit her finger under the band of his garter belt, stretched out the elastic, then let it snap back on his hip. The pain was sharp and stinging and perfect. She did the same with the upper edge of his panties, though that snap was less intense. Both of her hands slid over the silk that covered his backside. She squeezed his arse like he was a fresh mango.

“Oh look at that.” She smiled broadly when she got to the front of his panties. “Look who’s so hard for me!”

She squeezed the silk over his cock and Gold bit down on his tongue.

“Mistress,” he groaned. “Please!”

‘Please’ what, he wasn’t sure, but he trusted Mistress to take care of him. All he had to do was tell her what was happening and allow her to make a decision. If she wanted him to come in his panties, then she knew it would happen if she kept touching him. If she wanted him to last longer, she would have to ease off on the stimulation. If she wanted to tease him and keep him on the verge of orgasm for minutes or hours, then he would have to submit to her will, no matter how agonizing it might be.

In her mercy, Mistress released her grip on his cock. She gave it a few loving pats as a promise of more attention soon. Then her hands slid down his thighs, over the straps of his garters and down to his stockings.

“Are you ready for me to touch your feet yet, Theo?”

Gold breathed in sharply, something between a gasp and a hiss. His heart was already racing, but now an edge of terror cut into the excitement. He froze. He couldn’t speak. Even if he could, he didn’t know what he wanted to say. 

“Alright,” Mistress nodded. She took his silence as a rejection of her proposal, but she knew very well that it wasn’t a rejection of her. She kept her hands on him, kept touching his shoulders and torso. She wanted to make sure he knew that nothing had changed between them.

She bent his head down so she could kiss him between the eyebrows. “We’ll never do anything you don’t want, Theo. Never.”

He swallowed. The ribbon-collar was tight at his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” she petted his hair. “Nothing to be sorry for, little one. Not a single thing.”

He bowed his head. He accepted her touch, her sweet words. Mistress wasn’t angry at him, he knew that. The trouble was keeping from being angry at himself. He wanted to give her every part of his body. Hell, he wanted to give her his heart, mind, and soul. It wasn’t his intention to keep any part of himself away from her. 

Yet the thought of his beautiful mistress seeing the ugliest, weakest, most awful parts of him--it was enough to set him on a panic attack. He knew she would be kind and compassionate about his injury, but he also knew that nothing would be the same once she saw it. He couldn’t bear the thought of things changing, of Mistress losing any regard she might have for him. 

Nor could he bear the thought of his own reaction. Gold knew himself, he knew his own thin skin. If her expression flickered for a microsecond, it would all be over. He would blow it out of proportion, let it be confirmation that every compliment she had ever paid him was a lie, that every loving gesture had been nothing more than doing what he paid her to.

It would be so easy to believe she would never care for him--could never care for him--that she was just as twisted and self-serving as everyone else he had ever trusted. Because he was a monster, of course, so everyone who treated him with any human sympathy must be a liar who wanted to destroy him. Even at his best, he knew he was a difficult man to love. It would be so easy for Gold to convince himself that he was better off as he had been before he met her: alone and unfeeling, the enemy of love. 

He had come too far for that. He couldn’t allow himself to become that person again. More than his physical scars, that inner ugliness was what he wanted to keep Mistress Belle from ever touching. He had to protect her from it. He had to protect himself from his own worst impulses. 

“Are you ready for the next step, my Theo?” 

She was still holding his hand. He had lost track of Mistress at some point, but she made him focus on her now. She nodded toward the door at the back of her room. That was a more private area than the parlor-like front room they were in now. That was where their scenes became more intense. That was where Gold had spent the happiest moments of his life. 

He swallowed. He drew himself up and squared his shoulders. He couldn’t give Mistress every part of himself, not yet, but he damn well could give her the best of him. She deserved so much more, but he could only offer what he had.

“Yes, Mistress,” he told her. “I’m ready.”

[drarrytm]

I listened to Sk8er Boi this morning and have done nothing but think of this wolfstar au. ITS A RIFF off the song not a direct interpretation. Ps: they all live in NY

Skater Remus had a fling with a ballet dancer and he fucked him up cause he was like “you’re not good enough for me” when Remus wanted more because he is all scarred from skating . So he’s like got a terrible view of himself now. About everything and about his scars esp the one from a fall that almost ruined his career that runs through his face across his nose and eyebrow. But he stuck through it went on to be big in the skating world even making it to the summer Olympics in skateboarding.

He’s bffs with James who’s an Olympic snowboarder and he’s married to Regulus who used to do ballet full time but now he’s an instructor because they’re going to have a baby. Remus always goes to support James at the Winter Olympics. And he always hangs with Reg when James is competing or practicing. This year Regulus brings his brother who Remus has not met.

And there is Sirius Black and Remus is like “this is the prettiest person I’ve ever seen ever in my whole life”. Sirius still does Ballet full time at the most prestigious ballet company in America the NYCB. And Sirius is obv immediately obsessed with Remus and is like “I’m obsessed with you” and Remus is like…. “Ummm it’ll pass.” (It doesn’t)

James and Reg have Harry the summer after James won the Gold in snowboarding. They make Sirius and Remus the godfathers so they start interacting much more. They become close and they kind of start dating at the beginning of the next year when Harry is 7 months old and Remus is like *internal monologue* he’s gonna leave me I just have to take what I can get.

So they’re dating and spending all their time together. He watches Sirius’ performances and practice and Sirius goes with him to the skate parks and watches him and tells him how much he likes certain tricks. They babysit Harry together at one of their apartments. Usually Sirius’ cause his is definitely more baby safe. He honestly spends most of his time there anyway. Remus is falling in love but doesn’t want to scare Sirius off. Sirius of course loves him but he doesn’t want to spook Remus after it took him so long to convince him that he actually wanted to date him.

A year and a half flies by and it’s time for the summer Olympics Remus made the team and everyone comes to support him. Remus falls hard on the half pipe at a practice and is carried away bleeding. Sirius finds him in the medic tent and Remus is cleared of a concussion or serious injury. But he can feel his scar on his face has opened and gotten bigger and longer. And his face is wrapped up in bandages. Sirius is crying.

So Remus thinks he’s going to break up with him “I understand if you want to stop seeing me I know I’m hideous with these scars”

Sirius is like ??? “What??? I don’t care about that I care that you’re okay?? I love you!! I was scared to death when you fell because I didn’t get to tell you!”

Remus is shocked “You love me?”

Sirius sighs “You don’t have to say it back”

Remus kisses him even though it hurts and says “I love you so much I just didn’t think you would love me back.”

And then they’re both crying and then James and Reg and Harry are there. They got his Remus’ injury update from the nurse Poppy so they know he’s cleared. After making sure Remus really is okay James goes “Who said it first?”

They share a look before Sirius raises his hand. And James pumps his fist and says to Regulus “you owe me 10 bucks!!” Cue an eye roll from everyone except Harry who pumps his little fist like his dad.

Remus goes on the win the gold medal and dedicates the award to his family and the love of his life Sirius.

When they get back to New York and Sirius gets back to work with a shiny gold band on his left ring finger complete with a tiny diamond in the middle of an engraving of a star.

One of the lower level dancers that had never made it onto a performance. And was just around cause of family connections came up to him. “You know I used to date your skater boy.” He sneered.

Sirius took a deep breath and held his hand out to admire his ring he turns his nose up at the man “You mean my Olympic gold medalist husband?” He clarifies “Hmm he’s never mentioned you.” And turns away.

[flonightingayle]

Ahanti

The limousine rolled to a halt outside of the finest restaurant in the Pride ring. An impish butler hustled around the trunk; he tugged at the car door. Ahanti pushed it open, shoving her servant to the ground in the process. She smirked at his plight as she rose to her full height. Stella followed her onto the sidewalk. The avian princess preened her feathers, layered alluringly over her shoulders, and smoothed her rose gold gown.

“This is our first public appearance together. It simply has to be perfect!” Stella insisted.

She straightened Ahanti’s mauve bow tie. Ahanti rested her hands atop Stella’s.

“Don’t fret, darling. Nobody who dares to critique us will live to tell the tale,” Ahanti assured her.

“You always know just what to say,” Stella sighed.

The couple exchanged a peck before approaching the restaurant. The same imp scrambled to hold the door; Ahanti extended her hoof, knocking him over. Stella snickered. The couple proceeded into the brasserie.

Glittering golden chandeliers illuminated every corner of the marble-carved space. Statues of infamous people stood sentinel in alcoves around the room. Tables were adorned with layers of white, red, and gold cloth. Menus stood behind precariously stacked plates, ready for a dining experience spanning several courses. Imps scuttled around the room with trays and towels, tending to the guests. Once Ahanti verified their reservation, an imp led them to their own table. Ahanti pulled Stella’s chair out for her. Once Stella was settled, Ahanti expectantly stared at the imp, who pulled out her own seat. Ahanti ensured that he tripped over her tail as he left the table.

“You’re naughty,” Stella snickered.

“What’s fine dining without a spot of entertainment?” Ahanti replied.

When another imp dared to approach the table, she was instantly weighed down with the couple’s arduous drink order. She returned moments later with a bottle of champagne, two dusty bottles of red wine, and four cocktails, each with two straws. The dinner order was even more cumbersome, but the imp recorded it without comment. She swallowed harshly as she retreated from the table.

“This is fabulous,” Stella laughed, “We should have done this ages ago.”

“You didn’t enjoy our little trysts at home?” Ahanti teased.

Stella scoffed, “I wouldn’t say that. That cheating prick never even tried to please me in bed, but you came along, and well… I came, too.”

Ahanti smirked, but her slight blush undermined her cockiness.

“Just you wait. I’ve always had a rather robust imagination,” she purred.

Stella’s eyes darkened with desire. She placed her hand on Ahanti’s forearm arm.

“So it’s true! Princess Stella of the Ars Goetia has fallen into the arms of overlord Ahanti the Huntress since her divorce from the disgraced prince,” A paparazzo observed.

Other paparazzi gathered to partake in the drama, like vultures gathering around a carcass. Other patrons turned to watch.

“Fucking hell,” Stella muttered, shielding her face from the cameras.

“I promised,” Ahanti winked.

She rose from the table, and, in one graceful stride, approached the initial paparazzo. She grabbed his throat, flexing her claws into his flesh, and lifted him above her head.

“This is a warning,” Ahanti announced, “Reconsider invading another person’s privacy for the sake of intrigue.”

She clenched her fist. Blood cascaded down her arm. She surveyed the crowd around her and released the corpse. It crashed onto the white marble floor, dark blood pooling around the severed trachea. Ahanti licked from forearm to fingertip, savoring the sanguine taste.

The silence conveyed a greater understanding of the threat than any statement could have. Ahanti returned to her seat as the first course was served. Stella stared at her with an unreadable expression.

“You ordered the lobster thermidor, yes?” Ahanti asked, as if she wasn’t covered in the blood of a demon she had just killed.

“Did I? All I know currently is that I want you to show me just how feral you are,” Stella insisted.

“Finish your dinner, Stella, or I shan’t give you your dessert,” Ahanti teased.

“If you insist,” Stella sighed.

As soon as the bill was tended to, the couple returned to their vehicle. Within moments, Stella was receiving her just desserts. The tryst continued well into the early hours of the following day.

Ahanti took a sip of her coffee and turned on the tv. Her physique was displayed next to Katie Killjoy’s head. The moment she had killed the paparazzo had been captured in exquisite detail. The newsreel at the bottom of the screen detailed the rise of sinner-related homicide.

“Wow… Does my arse really look that good in those trousers?” Ahanti asked.

“Now you see why I could hardly sit through our meal,” Stella replied, taking a drink, “I reckon we should get that shot framed.”

[georgiapeach30513]

How were the first months with Baby Branwen? What about her first word etc.?🥹❤️

Branwen was a good baby.  She was observant, and she had such a big personality.  She was definitely a daddy’s girl.  Adored her dad.  If she was eating, and he was around, she wanted to be in his hands.  Branwen is so smart.  She can understand emotions at a young age, and she loves people laughing with her.  She was goofy and loving.  

🖤🖤🖤🖤 

For Now

Summary:  Branwen’s first word

Pairings:  Andy Barber X Reader

Rating:  🥺🥺

Warnings:  none, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  720

Series Masterlist

You gaze down at your raven haired beauty, her little lips puckered out in her sleep. Her face snuggled up against your bare skin, and you wonder what you ever did to deserve such a beautiful little baby. She was all that you could have ever imagined. Was oddly observant, and would watch anyone that came into the room intently. Always smiling and blinking her golden eyes at them. Her lashes splay across her chunky little cheeks, and you lift her up to kiss on her smooth skin.

When you fell for Andy, and knew you wanted kids with him, you did not think you were going to fall in love with something so perfect. The minute that the midwife laid her on you, and she just blinked her brilliantly gold eyes at you, everything in your world changed. It was like your heart had grown ten sizes bigger to fit the love you had for both her and her father.

Looking over at your sleeping husband, you rub your hand over his back. You had found quickly that this gesture soothed him, and even now in deep sleep he sighs in relief. At the sound of her father, Branwen peeks her eyes open, looking around.

“You even know his noises, my darling?” Her mouth turns up into a small smile, and she tries to find him, “He’s sleeping.”

“Ahh!” Her fists ball up, and she shakes her arms about.

“No, you behave, miss. I know that daddy is your favorite, and you heard him, so he must hold you, but he is sleeping,” her mouth opens and closes quickly, and you think she’s about to say something, but instead she squeals out again. “My beautiful little raven, he is…” Andy chuckles quietly, and she giggles right along with him.

“You have woke up, daddy. What do you have to say for yourself?” Your tap her on her nose, and her body swishes around, making even more noise to get his attention. “Andy, we need another. This one only wants you, unless she’s using me as her dairy farmer,” Branwen squeals louder, sneezing and giggling at the same time.

“Say, mama,” still giggling, she shakes her head no. “Say, dada,” this time her mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out, “Say dada, and he’ll come and get you.”

“That is mean,” Andy sits up, and reaches his hands out for his daughter, and Branwen’s fists open and close. “I’ve never done the baby thing, but I feel she’s very smart for her age. Come here…”

“No!”

“No?” Even Branwen looks at you, frowning yelling out her distress. “Why can’t I hold her?”

“She can say dada if she wants to be with you. She’s very smart, and watches everything, but I want her to be able to tell us everything. Say dada.”

“Ehh!” She pulls herself into a sitting position, and reaches for her daddy, but you don’t budge, “Ehh!”

“You can say it. Say mama then.”

“Ehh!”

“No daddy until…”

“Dadadadadadadadadadada! Grrr!!” She growls at you, but quickly starts giggling reaching for Andy, and he smiles through his tears. Reaching to grab his smiling daughter from you, and holding her above his head smiling proudly.

“That is not even right. I am the one who is with her everyday.”

“It just means that Dada is her favorite, huh, Winnie?” You give him a quick little pout, and he pulls her close to his chest, “Aw, baby, say, mama.”

“Dadadadadadadada,” she clenches her fist, squealing and giggling, looking up at Andy, and still you pout.

“Darling, say, mama.”

“Dada!” She looks up at him, and still that sweet little giggle.

He taps on her nose, and then her mouth, “Say, ma-ma.”

“Dada?” Her words lift up almost as if she was asking a question, and Andy shakes his head no, “Mada.”

“Closer. Ma-ma,” Andy was at the very least trying to get her to say mama. She furrows her brows, and looks at you nodding her head, “Say, ma-ma.”

“Dama?”

“No, ma-ma.”

She lets out an exasperated sigh, “Mada?”

“Mada is close. Maybe she’s calling you mother?” She makes grabby hands at you, repeating Mada over and over again, and you give in, holding her tight.

“Tell daddy, we’ll work on it. But for now, yes, I’ll be Mada.”

Masterlist

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