#I’ve known my baby brother since he was two and I was seven

[just-rogi]

.

[yankstrash]

Seven Minutes In Heaven ~ Rutger McGroarty (x Fantilli sister)

Warnings: Making out, underage drinking

You felt a rush through your body as you downed your second drink of the night, already feeling slightly tipsy. The hockey team had just won a big game against Penn State, and were throwing a party to celebrate. Of course you were attending, being Luca and Adam Fantilli’s sister, you didn’t really have a choice. Not like you minded though, you loved to party and you loved your brothers teammates. 

Well, most of them anyway. 

Just as you were about to pour yourself another drink, you heard the familiar voice that you despised heavily behind you.

“You sure you can handle that much alcohol, Y/n?” You stopped what you were doing and rolled your eyes as you turned around to be met face to face with the one guy on the team you did not like. 

Rutger. AKA, your brother's best friend.

“From what I’ve seen, you really can’t.” He said, shrugging his shoulders and grinning. “Stop acting like you know me and what I can handle.” You spat back as you turned back around to continue pouring your drink.  

“I’m just saying, being a baby and all, maybe you should slow down.” He said, which caused you to stop what you were doing once again and whip back around. “Stop,” You began, pointing a finger at him. “Calling me that.”

You were over 2 years younger than Luca and 3 months younger than Adam, making you the baby. You hated when people brought it up, because you always felt like you were being compared to your brothers. Sure you weren’t a big time hockey star like them, but you were still your own person and deserved to be treated that way. 

Rutger knew that, which is why he always picked on you for it. 

You can’t even remember when or why you and Rutger started disliking each other, you just know it’s been this way since the start. You met him when you first got to UMich, and ever since the two of you have not gotten along. 

You can’t ever remember a time where he was nice to you. Whether it be teasing you, making fun of you or just flat out being rude to you, you and Rutger have never had a friendly interaction with each other. 

It’s not like you wanted it to be this way. He was best friends with both of your brothers and is with them 90% of the time. According to everyone else, Rutger is a nice guy who’s a lot of fun to be around. However, you are yet to see that side of him. And you’ve known him for almost a year now. 

Along with all that, he is also insanely attractive. Not nice, sure, but hot as hell. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a little crush on Rutger when you first met, and sometimes you think you still do, but how could you with the way he treats you?

Rutger put his hands up in defense after you told him to stop calling you a baby. “Just looking out for my buddies' baby sister, that’s all.” He replied, smirking. Just as you were about to reboot, Luca walked up to you guys.

“Sup guys!” He said, throwing an arm around your shoulder. 

“I was trying to help Y/n with her alcohol intake, but she doesn’t want my help.” Rutger said, grinning at you.

“You are such a fucking-” You began to say, but your mouth was covered with Luca’s hand. “Okay! Let’s go over here, shall we Y/n?” He said, and ushered you away from Rutger, leaving him laughing at you in your tracks. 

“Can you two ever not be arguing with each other?” Luca asked you once you stopped walking. You crossed your arms and said “It’s him not me.”

Your brother laughed as he shook his head. “Pretty sure you give it back 150%, Y/n/n.” You rolled your eyes and shrugged. 

“You know, if you guys would stop arguing long enough to get to know each other you’d probably really like each other. You’re both a lot more similar than you think.” Luca started. You just rolled your eyes in response. “Plus, Rut’s a really good guy, I think he would actually be really good for you. And you for him.” 

That comment almost made your eyes pop out of your head. Your brothers have always told their friends you were off limits. 

Do the rules not apply to Rutger McGroarty? 

“How many of my friends have I ever said that about?” 

Guess not. 

“It’s not going to happen, Lu.” You said. 

Luca rolled his eyes and said, “You both need to get over yourselves.”

Before you could respond, Mark came over to you guys. “Hey we’re all playing a game in the living room, come on!” He said, and darted towards the living room.

You and Luca made your way over to where everyone was gathering. You all sat in a circle as you took a seat between Luca and Johnny. Rutger was right across from you, and when he caught your eye he sent you his signature smirk. 

You rolled your eyes in response and broke eye contact. “What are we playing?” You asked to no one in particular.

“Truth or dare.” Ethan answered. Your face scrunched up at his answer. “What are we, 10?” You asked sarcastically. 

“Oh c'mon Y/n, it’ll be fun!” Johnny said from next to you, nudging your arm. “Yeah, we play it a different way.” Gavin said from his spot. 

“And what way is that?” You asked. 

“You’re banned if you refuse any of the truths or dares.” Mark said.

“What?!” You asked in disbelief. “You guys aren’t serious.” 

They were serious. Not one of the guys had a joking expression on their face.

“We are. Some freshman a few years ago refused to do his dare and we never let him back to another party again.” Keaton said. 

“That’s ridiculous.” You said.

“Our house, our rules. Now, who wants to start?” Ethan said. 

Multiple rounds of the game went by with the stupidest truths and dares you have ever heard. Finally, someone picked Rutger.

“Rut, truth or dare.” Grano asked him.

“Truth.”

“How many girls have you slept with since getting to UMich?”

There was a chorus of whistles from around the circle as all the boys were curious to know his answer.

For some reason, this question sent a pang to your chest. You didn’t want to hear his answer.

But why? Why did this question bother you?  

“I need a refill.” You said before Rutger could answer the question. You quickly got up and made your way to the kitchen, thankfully missing his answer. 

When you returned, Luca was finishing a dare.

“Okayyyy, hmmmm.” Your brother said as he looked around the circle. His eyes landed on you and he smirked. 

“Y/n, truth or dare.” He asked you.

Fuck.

Your brothers already knew everything about you, besides everything you really didn’t want them knowing. Not trusting the questions they’d ask you, you went the alternate route.

“Dare.”

Luca looked at Adam, then at Johnny, then back at you before a huge smirk took over his face.

“I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with Rutger.” 

His response nearly stopped your heart.

If this was your brother's attempt at getting you and his best friend to get along, it was a low one. And one you did not want to participate in.

“Luca, no.” You said in all seriousness.

“Oh, is someone refusing a dare?” You heard Mark say and you shot him a death glare.

“Luca, that’s not even funny. Pick something else, or at least someone else for me to do that with.”

You truthfully had no interest in playing seven minutes in heaven with any of your brother's teammates, but at this point you were willing to do it with any of them as long as it wasn’t Rutger.

“Nope. You and Rutger. Go, now.” He said as he waved his hands to usher you away.

“What if I don’t agree to this?” Rutger finally spoke up from his spot across from you.

“Then you’re both banned.” Ethan said.

“WHAT?” You both yelled in unison.

“How is that fair? It’s Y/n’s dare, not mine.” Rutger asked, getting annoyed.

“Don’t care, you’re a part of it now. Now both of you get a move on it.” Ethan responded, pointing to the bathroom down the hall.

You turned to your brother and glared at him. “I hate you.”

He just laughed in response as you and Rutger both got up and made your way to the bathroom. 

“See you in seven minutes!” Someone yelled as you closed the door behind you.

You sighed heavily as you and Rutger stood a couple feet away from each other in the tiny half bath. 

“Thanks a lot.” He said.

“Me?! What did I do?! This was all my brother, not me, so don’t even try to put the blame on me.” You responded as you raised your voice. 

You both stood in silence for another minute, but you couldn’t take it anymore. If you were going to be stuck in here with him, you were going to get answers.

“Maybe while we’re stuck in here together you could tell me why you’ve always been such a jerk to me.” You said. 

Rutger looked at you like he didn’t know what you were talking about. “What do you mean?” He asked.

You looked at him in disbelief.

He could not be serious.

“What do you mean what do I mean? Rutger, ever since the day we met you’ve been nothing but mean to me. You always tease me, you always call me a baby, you always try to start an argument, and for WHAT? What did I ever do to you?” You asked, growing frustrated. 

Rutger stayed silent for a moment, getting lost in his thoughts.

You took his silence as a sign that there was no real reason, and he just did not like you. You were over this, you couldn’t care less if the sophs banned you from parties at their house, you were leaving.

Just as you turned to leave, Rutger stopped you.

“Y/n, wait.” He said as he gently grabbed your wrist to turn you back around.

You snatched your wrist out of his grip as you waited for him to say something.

“It’s stupid.” Was all he said.

“I don’t care.” Rutger sighed as he said “You’re not going to believe me.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him. “Try me.”

Rutger sighed as he looked down at the ground. “It’s because I like you, Y/n.”

Your scowl immediately fell as the words came out of his mouth. 

“What?” You asked.

“I like you, Y/n.” He started, as he looked up at you. “I’ve liked you since Luca and Adam introduced us.” 

What?

“But, they’re my best friends. And you’re their baby sister.” He said, then immediately closed his mouth when he said it and saw the look on your face when he did.

“Sorry.” He said. For the first time ever, Rutger apologized for calling you that.

“I didn’t want Luca and Adam to hate me, so I just started being mean to you in an attempt to get over you.” 

You were very taken aback. With every word that came out of his mouth, you were more and more shocked at his confessions.

“Teasing someone is a pretty shit way to try to get over them.” You said with a hint of sarcasm in your tone.

Rutger nodded and said “Yeah I know, and I am sorry. I never wanted to be mean to you or make you think I didn’t like you, Y/n. I just didn’t know what else to do.” 

“And then Luca started telling me how he wished we got along because he could see us together, but it was already too late at that point. I figured you hated me and there was no coming back from that.” Rutger confessed. 

“I’ve never hated you, Rutger.” You said, causing him to look at you. “Hate is a strong word.”

Rutger smiled at you and you returned the gesture.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a little crush on you too when we met.” You said.

Rutgers eyes widened as you admitted your crush. “Really?” He asked, grinning.

You rolled your eyes and said “Don’t get too excited, you almost ruined it by being mean to me.” “Almost?” He said, as he took a step towards you.

“Yes, almost. I’m forced to see you almost everyday, how could it have just gone away completely?” You said. 

Rutger shook his head as he said, “I know mine didn’t. I never got over you, Y/n.” 

You looked at him confused. “But what about the other girls?” You asked.

Rutger scrunched his eyebrows together as he asked, “What other girls?” 

“The ones you slept with. Remember, Grano’s truth question?” 

Rutger laughed as he shook his head. “Well, if you would’ve stuck around for the answer, you would’ve heard me say none. I haven’t been with any girls, Y/n.” 

His answer shocked you. You figured he was off with a new girl every weekend and after every game. 

“I didn’t think it would be fair to any of them since I was so into you.” He said.

Pardon?

“I am sorry though, about everything. I know it was a shitty way to go about things, and I apologize for that.” 

You nodded as you gently smiled at him. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too, I was never the nicest to you either.” Rutger laughed at your response. “Yeah but I deserved it, you had no reason to be nice to me.”

At least he’s aware.

“So,” He began, as he took another step towards you. “Am I forgiven?” He asked, staring down at you.

You smirked up at him and said “Under one condition.” “Name it.”

“Stop calling me a baby. It really does piss me off.” You said.

Rutger moved one hand to the side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. 

“Deal.” And with that, he closed the gap between the two of you. 

Your lips moved in sync as you wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

The kiss deepened and grew more heated as Rutger turned you guys around so your back was against the bathroom counter. He moved his hands so they were under your thighs and lightly tapped them.

“Jump, baby.” He said against your lips as he pulled back slightly.

Out of force of habit from the past almost year, you moved your head back and glared at him.

“What?” Rutger asked, confused, before he caught on.

“Oh. OH! I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean it like that I-” He stumbled over his words in an attempt to apologize. 

You just laughed in response. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Y/n. I swear.” He said.

You laughed at him again and said “I know.” Before pulling him back to you and jumping like he asked so he could place you on the counter.

Your make out continued for a few more minutes before there was a loud bang on the door, causing you two to separate.

“TIME’S UP!” You heard someone yell. 

You rolled your eyes at the loud and unexpected noise that caused you two to break apart.

“So…” Rutger said, smirking at you.

“So….” You said back.

“Are we good?” He asked. 

You smiled widely at him. “We are good.” 

You two connected your lips again before he helped you off the counter.

He turned and opened the bathroom door, signaling for you to walk out first.

“M’lady.” He said as you smiled and walked out.

Once you two returned to the group, there was yet another chorus of whistles and cheering going around.

“So, how was your seven minutes?” Luca asked.

You both looked at each other and glared, trying to hold back smiles.

“Terrible. Worst seven minutes of my life.” Rutger responded as you both went back to your spots in the circle.

You caught onto the sarcasm in his voice, you knew he was joking.

“Oh yeah? Your hair says differently Rut.” Johnny said as he motioned to Rutgers hair.

Rutgers hands immediately flew to the top of his head, fixing his messy hair.

Oops.

“That’s some nice lip gloss you got on too, Rutty. When did you get that?” Luca asked him teasingly.

Rut’s hands went from his hair to his lips as he wiped your lipgloss off of him.

Oops again!

“Gross, that’s my little sister.” Adam said.

Rutger shrugged. “This was your guy's idea.” 

Let’s just say after that night, there was no more arguing between you and Rutger. 

You still scowled at Rutger anytime he called you baby for the first few weeks, but he assured you it was a term of endearment, not a tease, and eventually you grew to love his everyday pet name for you. 

Luca almost regretted his little plan to get the two of you together, seeing as now you two could not keep your hands off each other. 

Oh well, it was his dare. 

[megamindsupremacy]

Misc PJO Fic Recs (Part 4)

The Stolen God by TsarinaTorment

Python is defeated. The prophecies are restored, and Nero has fallen. Apollo has not been seen since. His trials are over; why isn’t he back on Olympus?

-

Baby Blofis College Fund by zipadeea

Valerie calls her an hour later.

“Sally, what the hell?”

“That bad, huh?”

“Bad? Sally, it’s gold. I went from squirming in my seat to crying genuine tears. And that twist, making him a Greek god, it’s exactly what we’re looking for right now. How soon can you get me the next chapter?”

***

In which Sally Jackson realizes by the time the new baby is eighteen, a semester of college will cost an arm and a leg. And those Fifty Shades of Grey books sure did make a lot of money.

-

to bet on losing dogs by furnaceglow

The thing is,” Apollo said, the coolest prisoner of war in all of time. Prometheus wasn't prone to jealousy, but even he felt a drop of envy at how relaxed Apollo was in maximum security. "How to define a man…are we talking ontology here? That’s broad scope, bigger picture. We can include ourselves in that definition. Philosophy otherwise! Our good man Diogenes. You remember Diogenes! Or are we specifically talking about man for the sake of man? Is this about anthropology, is what I’m saying.” “I’m open to all interpretation,” Prometheus said. “Been a while since I’ve had good conversationalists here. Krios is all grunting, and Hyperion is solely interested in making his quarters nicer.” “Well, he has an eye for interior design, I’ll give him that,” Apollo said.

In which Percy Jackson ascends to a reluctant godhood, his mother loses the war but wins a battle, and for once, Prometheus picks the winning horse.

-

and if your eyes don't speak by Pixelfun20

Estelle Jackson is seven years old when she meets her nephew for the first time, over a grainy Facetime call.

OR

Estelle grew up with stories of Percy Jackson, but it takes meeting his son to realize who he really was.

-

the carriage held but just ourselves by Writeous

The official story is this: Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, just two months shy of their seventh wedding anniversary, hurtle off a cliff on a lonely mountain road. A tragic accident, a sharp turn taken too quickly. Their 2023 Prius was found buried under debris, three hundred feet below where witnesses claim they fell. Paramedics declared them dead upon arrival, suffering blunt force trauma as their car collapsed with them inside.

The real story is this: Percy and Annabeth watch as Hecate’s children create perfect duplicates of them that are promptly hurled off a cliff. Percy loved that Prius.

(Or: at the end of the Titan War, Zeus offered Percy immortality. Percy was mistaken in thinking it was an actual choice.)

-

Dawn Rises From The East by TsarinaTorment

During the Battle of Manhattan, Michael Yew fell into the East River; his body was never found. Two years later, a homeless kid known only as Ferret has a chance encounter that changes everything he knows.

-

Annabeth and the Nine Step Career Plan by feeling_the_aster_9145

Annabeth Chase does not accept limitations. Everyone knows that. If she wants something, no matter how impossible, she will find a way to make it happen. Though, perhaps she will allow Bruce Wayne and his ridiculous paranoia-induced company restrictions a small portion of the credit.

Actually… now that she thinks about it, the man may have had a point in his worries.

Wayne Technologies does not accept college interns. Annabeth always has a plan B.

-

is it really a crime if you don't exist? by MidnightBunny

"So, what you're saying is," Percy said, staring at the man in front of him. "you're me from the future."

The man took a drink out of the coffee cup in his hand. "Yup."

"And you're here," Percy said slowly. "Because Annabeth's brother's boyfriend is trying to prove the existence of the multiverse."

The man nodded.

"And you got sucked in when he turned it on."

Nod.

"And now you don't know how to get home."

Nod.

"And how did you get sucked in, again?"

The man mumbled something.

"What?"

"I was coming back from the bathroom and opened the wrong door."

-

(I'm so excited this one is back y'all, the author privated all her works but just unprivated them a few weeks back so now I'm recommending you read all of her stuff, especially this fic)

Son of Sea Foam by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

“She’ll never claim me,” he whispered. Silena shook her head, eyes wild as she looked around for anyone who could be watching.

“My mother doesn’t remember half of her children as it is,” she said with a note of bitterness. “If you do something to impress her, it won’t matter. Return the bolt in her name. She’ll claim you if you act the part. If you stay unclaimed then they'll figure out what you really are," she said, squeezing his hands tightly. Percy's heart sped up.

"I - I don't know the first thing about Aphrodite-"

"My mother was born of sea foam," Silena cut him off. "And if you're really who I think you are... you are the sea. You can pull this off," she said and touched his cheek. "Get the bolt. Survive," she said. Percy swallowed.

"What if I can't act the part?" He asked. Silena's expression went blank for a moment. Slowly, she slipped off her bracelet and placed it in his hands.

"If you're going to be one of us... you better learn."

Or

AU where Percy has to hide the fact he's a Big Three kid otherwise he'll be killed on the spot. Unfortunately for him, unclaimed kids tend to raise the most suspicion... but he might have found a loophole in the form of Aphrodite.

-

This fic on tumblr that’s one of the best PJO fics I’ve ever read

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Paring: Shane Walsh x reader, Rick Grimes x sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of blood

Chapter: 2.01

You watch as Shane inspects a gun that belongs to Andrea, occasionally looking away from it to glance at Jace, who is secured to his chest. The thought of Jace so close to a weapon should make you unnerved, but because Shane was on the other end, it didn’t. It helped you sleep at night knowing your son had a dad and an uncle who’d do anything for him.

You bit your bottom lip so you wouldn’t wince when you shifted your leg, which was still painful from cutting it. You were sitting on a chair with your leg resting up on another, and despite your best efforts to hide the pain you were feeling, it hadn’t gone unnoticed. Daryl had given you a few painkillers from his brother's stash.

“Looks complicated,” Andrea says, watching him take the gun apart.

The interest in Shane’s eyes was obvious. “The trick is getting all these pieces back together the same way. I could clean yours, show you how. Oh yeah. It's a sweet piece.”

The blonde smiled. “It was a gift from my father. He gave it to me just before Amy and I took off on our road trip. He said two girls on their own should be able to defend themselves.”

“Your father is a wise man. Soon as Jacey here is old enough, I’m going to teach him how to defend himself, just like I taught his mama,” he says before gently kissing the top of your baby's head.

Andrea looks back at you, just as your eyes roll at the memory. “He taught you to defend yourself, that’s sweet.”

“It was our second date,” you laugh.

She looks back at Shane, who’s trying not to smirk. “You took someone you were trying to impress to a shooting range?”

“Yeah.”

She looks back at you. “I thought you would have known how anyway, since your brother was a sheriff.”

Shane ignores her and continues to talk about the gun. “Look, it's a limited capacity. See? only holds seven rounds.”

Suddenly, the RV comes to a halt. Both Dale and Glenn get out and take a look at the front of the vehicle. You get out of the RV last, and the moment you do, Carl runs to you with a cheeky smile on his face. He leans against you as you playfully ruffle his hair while looking around. The RV had broken down in what looked like a graveyard of abandoned vehicles.

“What’s going on?” You ask as Glenn and Dale look under the popped hood.

“Oh, just a small matter of being stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no hope of—” Dale says sarcastically before cutting himself off. “Okay, that was dumb.”

Shane takes a look and says, “I can’t find a radiator hose here.”

Daryl scoffs, “There’s a whole bunch of stuff we can’t find.”

It's been decided that your group will split up to look for supplies in the abandoned cars.

“Come on, y’all. Look around; gather what you can.” Shane says addressing everyone.

“Jace?”

“I’ve got him,” he says softly. He senses your hesitation and sighs, taking your hand in his. “He’s fine, I promise I won’t let anything happen to him. You just concentrate on not catching your limbs on anything sharp. Be safe, baby, and watch out for walkers.”

—

Searching abandoned cars and vans should have been easy, but of course, the process doesn't go as smoothly as you'd all hoped. As T-Dog places his hand on your back, quietly ushering you along as walkers slowly walk in your direction. Your stomach drops, forming a heavy pit as you think of Jace.

“Ahh shit,” he hissed.

You turn to see him slicing his arm on a broken window and bleeding profusely. You rip the bottom of your shirt and wrap it around his arm.

Delirious from the sight of his blood loss, you struggled to hold T-dog upright, but luckily, Daryl appeared beside you. “Quick, get under the car.”

You drop to the ground and roll under a car while Daryl places a dead body on top of T-Dog, then does the same to himself just in time as the dead walk by. You clamp your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. Your body shook with fear as you thought about your son. You internally prayed to God or whoever would listen that he was safe.

—

When the horde has passed, you get up and assist T-Dog to his feet. You put his good arm over your shoulder and said, “Let’s get you back to the others.”

You walked mainly in silence, watching Daryl curiously. His sleek movements while looking for danger made it seem like he’d been living in an apocalypse all his life.

“How does hiding under dead bodies keep walkers from noticing you?” You ask, distracting yourself from the fear of what you might find in a few moments time.

He looks over his shoulder at you, and he almost seems amused by your question. “The rotten bodies hide your scent.”

When you reach the RV, Andrea and Dale rush over to help T-Dog, who’s in bad shape, while Shane rushes to your side. You're relieved to see that he and Jace are both fine. His eyes widen with worry as they trace over you, soaking up the blood. “Lily,” he says in a low voice. “Are you hurt?”

“No, it's T-Dogs blood,” you say as you look around and notice your brother isn't there. “Where’s Rick?”

Shane clenches his jaw and says, “You should change your shirt.”

—

The last few hours had been tense as you waited for news on Sophia. Carol's daughter had gotten scared by the walker horde; your brother went after her but lost her while luring two walkers away. He came back to get help, and Shane, Glenn, and Daryl left to help him search for her. The only positive was that you managed to clean and cover up T-doggy cuts the best you could with what little medical supplies you had.

“He doesn’t cry much.”

You turn to see Dale standing behind you as you lay Jace down on some blankets inside the RV. “Oh, he does. Jace just likes to pick his moments.”

Dale nods his head, giving you a forced smile. “I know, I’ve heard him cry when he’s hungry, tierd or needing changed.”

“But?” You know by the look on his face that he’s holding back.

“I’ve noticed he doesn’t react much to loud noises.”

You frown and ask, “What are you getting at?”

Dale goes to answer you but closes his mouth again when he sees Glenn and Shane return through the small window. He leaves the vehicle just as Jace wakes up fussing, the noise he makes indicating he is hungry.

Dale doesn’t know what he's talking about.

—

You step out of the RV mid-conversation.

“It can't be soon enough for me,” Andrea says. “I'm still freaked out from that herd that passed us by, or whatever you'd call it.”

Glenn nods in agreement and says, “Yeah, what was that? All of them are just marching along like that.”

Shane steps closer to you and places his hand on your back before addressing the rest of the group. “A herd. That sounds about right. We've seen it. It's like the night camp got attacked. There are a few wandering packs. Okay. Come on, people. We still have a lot of work to do. Let's stay on it. Let's go, come on.”

Once everyone else had walked away, you turned to Shane and whispered. “What’s really going on?”

“You've got to keep them busy and focused on a task. Dale fixes the RV, we start moving these cars and clear a path.”

“You don't think we will find Sophia, do you?”

He shakes his head.

—

“Hey, I know what will make you feel better.”

Your brother sighs while rubbing at his forehead, “Yeah?”

You stretch out your arms, signaling for him to take the baby in your arms. Which he does happily, talking to him in a baby voice. “I remember when Carl was this size. He grew up so fast.”

Rick looked defeated when he returned without Sophia. He’d even cut open a walker to check its insides to see if it had eaten her; he blamed himself for what happened. You look in the opposite direction to see Lori trying to comfort Carl. Poor kid. He looked terrified. It was going to be a long night waiting till morning to resume searching for the young girl.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you and Lori, but I imagine things are going to get worse before they get better, and we are going to need each other.”

Again, you felt your heart harden with rage towards Shane and Lori, because you knew if your brother ever found out, it would tear him apart. With his free hand, Rick pulls a gun from his holster and hands it out to you. “This stays between us. I want to know you're safe at all times.”

You take it from him, nodding in thanks, knowing that if the others saw it, they wouldn’t be happy since Dale was keeping a hold of the guns. “Thank you,” you say as you double-check the safety before slipping it between your waistband and belt and hiding it beneath your long shirt. “Here’s hoping I never need to use it.”

—

You roll your eyes as Andrea argues with Dale about her not having a weapon. Personally, you thought she was far too emotional to handle it, but you remained silent, knowing that all the arguing was wasting time.

“Aunt Lily,” Carl gets your attention as you cross the barrier that heads toward the woods Sophia had run into.

“Yeah?”

“My dad says I can come too, so I need to stay close.”

“Well, I feel much better now that you're beside me, munchkin,” you say as you wrap your arm around his shoulder. “But you gotta stay beside your mom and dad so they don’t panic, okay?”

“I will,” he says, nodding. “Why isn’t Jace staying with T-Dog and Dale?”

“Because he’s safest with me, now let’s go. We don’t want to get left behind.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Daryl staring in your direction, but when you look at him, he quickly marches on ahead.

—

The group walks in single file through the woods, everyone keeping an eye out for any sign of the young girl. You notice Carl walking by you to talk to Shane, who was at the end of the line. “Look, Shane,” Carl says, holding up a pocket knife. “Dad said I could carry it, and mom said as long as I was—”

“Keep it down. We're looking for Sophia. You need to focus on the task,” he snaps, making the young boys' faces fall.

“Carl, go keep up with your mom,” you say as you place a hand on Shane's chest to block his path. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but cut it out. He's just a kid.”

He shakes his head and says, “That kid? He needs to toughen up. I love him like our own, but it’s the truth.”

You shake your head, not wanting to hear whatever he is about to say. You continue to walk in silence until Rick signals to stop when he reaches a tent.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t inside. It was just the remains of a man who killed himself.

You try to comfort Carol as best you can; you've only been a mom for a short time, but you can’t imagine anything worse than losing your kid. “Did you hear that?”

“No, wha-” Glenn shakes his head.

“Shh,” you cut him off. “There it is again. It sounds like bells.”

“It’s church bells,” Andrea says, in agreement “It could be Sophia or someone who’s found her.”

—

Shane shakes his head as you walk out of the church. “I'm telling you, it's the wrong church. It's got no steeple, Rick. There's no steeple.”

There was no sign of Sophia inside the church, which only had walkers inside. Feeling the heat, you walk around to the other side of the church to stand in the shade. You stand observing your surroundings for a few moments before unintentionally listening in on a conversation. You slowly look around the edge of the church to see Lori following Shane.

“Are you really leaving?” she asks.

“Don't you think it's best for all of us?”

“I think it is. What made you decide?”

You blink a few times to make sure you aren’t hallucinating the sight in front of you. But it’s real, and you feel sick watching your fiancé talk to a woman who now makes your skin crawl.

“I'm just trying to be the good guy here, Lori, and I just want to do what’s best for my family. What happened between us was a mistake and never should have happened.”

She walks towards him, pointing her arm in the direction of the church. “You're just gonna disappear? You're not even gonna tell Rick?”

“He'd only try to stop me. No, that's on you. You tell him what you want. Or tell him nothing at all. You're his wife.”

“And Lily? She’s happy to go along with this idea.”

He rubs his chin and says, “She doesn’t know we’re leaving yet.”

“Are you insane?” She hisses. “You really think she’ll just take the baby and go with you? And what about Carl?”

“Don’t, I love Carl. I'm trying to put this behind me. I'm attempting to make our lives easier. This ain't easy on any of us, least of all me. I'm the one who loses his family when Rick finds out.”

“This isn’t just about you. Rick would-”

“Rick would forgive you!” He yells. Fortunately for him, no one else was outside to hear him. “Rick would forgive you, he’d do anything to keep you, Carl, and him together. But Lily? If Rick found out what we did, he wouldn’t be able to be around me, so she’d need to choose. And I doubt she'd choose me... which is why we need to leave before things get out of hand.”

Not wanting to hear anymore, you storm forward and grab Shane by the wrist, pulling him behind you and away from Lori. “Let me make one thing clear,we’re not leaving. I am not leaving my brother or nephew, and you are not leaving either.”

“Wait just a minute—”

“One of the reasons I fell in love with you is because of how protective you are, so I know you think you're doing what’s right.” You cup his face in your hands, “but you're wrong. I'm not leaving them, so if you really want to go, then it’s going to be on your own.”

He looks hurt by your words. “I’d never leave without you and Jace.”

Your conversation is cut short when the others join you. You watch nervously as Rick and Shane walk off to have a conversation in private. You assumed they would be talking about Sophia where her mom couldn’t hear.

—

Reluctantly, the group split into two. Shane and Rick kept searching for Sophia, and Carl went with them while the rest of you headed back to the RV.

The walk back was filled with uncomfortable sighs and glances, mainly from Andrea, who was walking ahead but kept glaring back at you and Lori. Finally you have enough and snap, “Whatever you want to say, just say it.”

Her response is immediate. “I think it’s bullshit that we can’t defend ourselves properly, especially since we’ve now got a ticking time bomb with us.”

You follow her line of sight to the baby strapped to your chest, and anger boils inside you. “Excuse me?”

“Keeping the kid with you is selfish. You should have left-”

“Knock it off!” Daryl barks at her. “Unlike you, the kid causes no problems and makes a helluva lot less noise. So I suggest you shut the hell up and keep walking.”

Andrea scoffs and walks on ahead. You supposed you could chalk all the dirty looks and comments down to the blonde having a genuine fear that a crying baby could possibly bring a horde, but you had a feeling there was more to her sudden issue with you.

“So this is it?" This is the whole plan?” Carol asks, sitting down on a fallen tree.

Daryl shrugs. “I guess the plan is to whittle us down into smaller and smaller groups.”

Andrea directs her gaze at Lori, “carrying knives and pointy sticks. I see you have a gun.”

“Why, you want it? Here, take it. I'm sick of the looks you're giving me.” She hands Andrea the gun before facing Carol. “Honey, I can't imagine what you're going through. and I would do anything to stop it. But you have got to stop blaming Rick. It is in your face every time you look at him. When Sophia ran, he didn't hesitate, did he? Not for a second. I don't know that any of us would have gone after her the way he did or made the hard decisions that he had to make, or that anybody could have done it any differently.” She takes a sip of her water before looking at the rest of the small group. “Anybody? Y'all look to him, and then you blame him when he's not perfect. If you think you can do this without him, go right ahead. Nobody is stopping you.”

Andrea hands the gun back to Lori and says, “We should keep moving.”

You walk at the back of the group alone until Daryl slows his pace and walks beside you, talking low enough that only you can hear him. “It’s probably best if you keep the fact that you have a gun to yourself.”

You look down to see your gun is still hidden by your clothing. “How did you know I have one?”

Daryl raises his brows and chews on what looks like a bug, then walks ahead without saying a word.

[impishtubist]

mating woes

Confession: I love omegaverse and simultaneously have absolutely no idea how the omegaverse actually works. So I’m just making shit up here. Content warning for, well, basically everything that omegaverse entails.

----

Harry catches a strange, sweet-sour scent as he hugs his brother. Pulling back, he holds Teddy by the shoulders, frowning at him. 

“What?” Teddy asks, shifting uncomfortably.

“You smell weird.” 

“Rude,” Teddy mutters, pulling out of Harry’s grip and giving Ginny a hug. “Hiya, Gin.”

“Hi, Teddy. You smell lovely as ever.”

“Thank you. You should teach your husband some manners, you know.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried.”

But Harry knows that something isn’t right, and he also knows that Ginny wouldn’t be able to pick up on it, being a beta. “Teddy, what’s wrong? Are you ill?”

“I’m fine.” 

He isn’t. There’s something off about his little brother. That scent also reminds Harry of something, something he’s smelled before, but not recently. He sniffs the air again, and his brain says Ginny. But that doesn’t make any sense, why would Teddy smell like Ginny? 

It hits him like a thunderclap. Ginny hasn’t smelled that way in years, not since Lily was born. Harry’s mouth drops open. “Teddy…are you pregnant?”

“Shh!” 

Harry gapes at him. “Are you?”

Teddy grabs his arm and drags him into the kitchen, Ginny on their heels. The door swings shut behind them.

“Can you not?” Teddy hisses. “Do you have to announce it to the whole world?” 

“Who’s the other father?” Harry demands. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone! And you’re definitely not mated.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Teddy says. 

Sirius is going to have a fit. “It absolutely does matter! Teddy, Dad’s gonna lose his mind.”

“No, he won’t. Listen, they’ll be here at seven, yeah? Tell them I came a bit early to see the kids, I wasn’t feeling well, and I went home. I’ll see them for dinner next Sunday, okay?”

“That doesn’t solve the problem! You’ll still be pregnant then!” Harry says. “Wait, you will, won’t you?”

“Yeah, but I’ll--I don’t know, I’ll be better at masking it or something by then!” 

“Da is an omega and a werewolf, you’ll never be able to mask anything from him.”

Teddy groans and drops into the nearest chair, burying his head in his hands.

“Teddy,” Ginny says tentatively, “how long have you known?”

“Two days.” 

“How far along are you?” Harry asks. 

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, Ted, it kind of matters!” 

“My last heat was twelve weeks ago, happy?”

“You spent your heat with someone, he knocked you up, and didn’t even bother to mate you? And it’s been three months?” Harry runs his fingers through his hair. “Sirius is gonna skin him alive. You realize that, right?”

“Not if I don’t tell him who it is,” Teddy says sullenly.

“He will find out.” Sirius can be a bit terrifying like that, honestly. “Teddy, listen to me. It will be worse if he has to find out on his own. You need to tell us who it is.” 

“Ugh, why does Dad have to be so bloody alpha all the time?” Teddy groans. 

“It’s his biology, Ted, he can’t help it.” 

“You’re not like that.” 

“Well, I don’t have an omega child who is pregnant and unmated!” Harry says heatedly. “I’m sure I’d feel differently if I did. Who is it?”

Teddy sags in his seat. His scent has soured further; now he’s clearly distressed. “You’re going to hate me.” 

Harry sighs. “You’re my little brother. I could never hate you.” 

“It’s Cedric.”

“Cedric,” Harry repeats. “Cedric Diggory?”

“Yeah.”

“Teddy, he’s twenty years older than you!” And, frankly, Cedric should know better. Spending a heat with an unmated omega, what was he thinking? Unmated sex was one thing, everyone did that before they settled down, but unmated heats were quite another. Not to mention the unmated omega son of Lord Sirius Black. 

“And he’s your ex.”

Harry waves that away. “We dated when we were kids, I don’t care about that. Do you like him?”

“I love him.”

“Then the best thing you can do for him is go Floo him, right now, tell him about the baby, and then tell him he has fifteen minutes to get his arse over here and present himself to our parents,” Harry says. “And then maybe, just maybe, Sirius won’t murder him on the spot.” 

“Go on, Teddy,” Ginny says. “Use the Floo in Harry’s office.” 

Seven minutes later, Teddy comes back into the kitchen with Cedric Diggory, who is wearing what looks like his most expensive set of dress robes and is white as a sheet.

“Hi, Cedric.” Harry offers his hand and what he hopes is a comforting smile, though it feels like a grimace. “Congratulations. And, er, my condolences.” 

Cedric swallows. “How bad is it going to be?”

“Play your cards right, and he might not kill you.”

“Harry,” Ginny admonishes. She goes over to Cedric and lays a hand on his arm. “It’s going to be fine.”

Cedric relaxes slightly. Ginny has always been a much better liar than Harry.

The doorbell chimes--Sirius and Remus must have taken the bike tonight--and everyone tenses. Teddy gives Cedric a quick hug, pressing his face into the side of Cedric’s neck and breathing deeply--scenting him for comfort. Well, well, Harry thinks. Maybe his baby brother has fallen in love after all. 

“Where are my favorite grandkids?” Sirius’s voice booms through the house, and there are pounding feet on the stairs. Harry, Ginny, Teddy, and Cedric come out of the kitchen to see Sirius embracing James, AJ, and Lily. He releases the kids to Moony, and then looks up. Surprise flits across his face.

“Teddy!” he says, delighted. “I didn’t know you were joining us tonight, kiddo. And…Cedric? Is that you?”

“Lord Black,” Cedric says, inclining his head. He’s still pale, but holds on to his composure. 

“You’ve certainly grown,” Sirius says, clasping Cedric’s hand. “I didn’t realize you and Harry still kept in touch.”

“We don’t,” Harry says. “Cedric’s here because he has something to ask you.” 

Cedric hesitates. He’s trembling slightly, clearly fighting every single one of his alpha instincts. Slowly, inch by inch, he sinks to his knees, until he’s kneeling on the floor in front of Sirius, head bowed. Harry feels his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. Simply bowing low would have been enough. For one alpha to kneel before another…that’s unheard of, and frankly something that is bound to impress Sirius. 

Sirius simply stares in shock at the alpha kneeling in front of him, but Remus goes over to Teddy. He sniffs the air, and says, “You’re pregnant.” 

“What?” Sirius’s head snaps up. “You’re what?”

“Pregnant, Dad,” Teddy says, in a small voice Harry isn’t accustomed to hearing from him. 

“It’s Cedric’s?” Remus asks, and Teddy nods. 

“I see,” Sirius says, his expression growing stony. Suddenly, the room reeks of alpha. He looks back down at Cedric. “So you’re asking for permission to mate my son? You should have thought of that before you knocked him up.”

“Yes, alpha,” Cedric says. 

Sirius circles him slowly. “How long?”

“Twelve weeks,” Teddy says weakly.

“Twelve weeks? You spent a heat with an unmated omega and he is still unmated twelve weeks later?” Sirius asks. “Were you ever intending to mate him, Diggory?”

“Yes, alpha.” 

“Dad, come on,” Teddy says. He tries to step forward, but Remus holds him back. “Are you gonna give him your blessing or not?” 

Sirius looks up. His grey eyes have turned amber, and his incisors have sharpened slightly. 

“This is the one you want?” he asks Teddy, who nods.

“Yes.” 

“When is your next rut?” Sirius asks Cedric.

“Next week, alpha.” 

“You’ll mate him then,” he says. Teddy nods vigorously, and Cedric says, “Yes, alpha.” 

“Stand up.”

Cedric quickly gets to his feet, and Teddy goes over to him, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. 

“You have my consent,” Sirius sighs, and Teddy beams before throwing his arms around Cedric’s neck. Sirius’s gaze lands on James, AJ, and Lily, and he says sternly, “You three! You will not spend your heats or your ruts with anyone while unmated, got it? Don’t be like your uncle.” 

“Yes, Grandpa,” they chorus. Remus rolls his eyes at them over Sirius’s shoulder, and they stifle laughter. Sirius turns to his husband, and Remus takes his hand. 

“Thank you for not hexing the father of your future grandchild, Padfoot.”

“You mean like your father did to me?” Sirius huffs. 

“To be fair, love, you didn’t show him the proper respect.” 

“He wanted me to bow to him!” 

“Alphas,” Remus sighs. “You’re all alike.” 

Teddy finally disentangles himself from Cedric and goes over to his parents. Remus sweeps him into a hug. 

“I’m so happy for you, Teddy Bear,” he says. “How have you been feeling?”

“Bit sick, but it’s not too bad,” Teddy says. “Tired, mostly.”

“I’ll get you the name of the midwife I used. She was a wonderful help throughout the pregnancy,” Remus says. “You can also call me, day or night, with any questions you have.” 

Sirius steps in to also hug Teddy.

“I love you,” he says into Teddy’s bright blue curls, “even if you are a little shit.” 

“Love you, too, Dad.” Teddy steps out of his arms, wrinkling his nose. “Did you have to stink up the room with your alphaness, though? Like, geez, we get it.”

Sirius looks affronted. “I did not stink up the room!”

“You totally did.” Teddy grabs Cedric’s hand. “It reeks in here. It’s practically alpha soup, which is super gross. So, we’re gonna beg off tonight.” 

“We’ll see you both for dinner next Sunday?” Harry asks, amused, as Teddy starts to drag Cedric toward his office and the Floo.

“Properly mated!” Sirius calls after them.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be mated and everything, don’t worry. Bye, Harry! Bye, dads!” 

“Brat,” Sirius mutters. “He gets that from you, you know.” 

“You love it,” Remus says, and Harry makes a face. 

“You two are gross.”

[daughter-of-melpomene]

drop five facts each abt all your Wednesday ocs pls!! (including Esther bc it’s a crime that I don’t know much abt her fr) -🍂

Ahhhh, thank you so much for asking about them, Alvita!! I am also gonna tag @luucypevensie and @dancingsunflowers-ocs since they’re my other Wednesday girlies. <3

We’ll do some facts about Esther first, since she’s my properly-introduced baby:

Given that I don’t think I’ve properly explained Esther’s outcast type to anyone besides Grace, I’ll explain it now: she’s a nephilim! Her mother, the woman who acted as a surrogate for her fathers when they were having her, was herself the daughter of an angel and a human, and because of this Esther is able to tap into a few different angel powers (if not all of the ones available to a nephilim, because Esther is a quarter angel rather than half).

These powers include being able to manipulate and generate light, being able to calm other people’s mental distress simply by projecting calming energy at them, being able to release powerful blasts of light that can cause physical destruction (which is what lead to the collapsed bell tower that got her transferred from her old school to Nevermore), and being able to wield a glowing angel sword by summoning it from the astral realm which is able to destroy demonic creatures (not that Esther has met any of those yet).

Esther’s family is actually pretty rich, with both of her fathers being lawyers and partners in their respective firms (which are actually rival firms, a fact that Esther and her younger brother Maddox find hilarious). Esther doesn’t like showing off or flaunting her family’s money, but she also doesn’t let it stop her from wearing nice clothes and buying her friends expensive gifts on their birthdays or other special occasions.

The St. Claire family also has a golden retriever, which Esther’s fathers rescued as a puppy when Esther was seven and Maddox was three. Esther was allowed to name her and chose the name Reno, after the main character in the musical Anything Goes, because her obsession with classic musicals had started even at that young age. Reno is an absolute sweetheart who always misses Esther whenever she’s away at school, and the entire family absolutely adores her.

Esther has never officially come out as a lesbian to her dads and Maddox - they’ve all pretty much known since Esther was pretty young, and when Esther finally comes home on a school break holding Wednesday and Enid’s hands, everyone just kind of shrugs and welcomes the two girls into their home.

Next, let’s talk about my beloved bitchy lesbian fairy Padma:

Every fairy has an affinity for one of the five forms of elemental magic: fire, water, earth, air, and metal. Padma’s affinity is for fire, because of course it is.

Padma is a twin! Her brother Akshat has an affinity for earth, doesn’t attend Nevermore - he is instead homeschooled as the majority of fairy kids are - and is pretty much the exact opposite of Padma in every way. He’s very quiet and passive, and doesn’t have even a hint of her quick temper.

Like Esther, Padma is also a rich girl (I mean, her family has been around for centuries since fairies live a really long time plus they can literally enchant people), but she is a lot less afraid to show it off. She’s always wearing the latest fashions and has her nails and makeup freshly done, and whenever she gets a coffee from the shop in Jericho she always leaves a twenty dollar tip or something even more because she just has no idea of how much thinks cost.

A really big part of the reason Padma is so determined to compete academically with Bianca for so long is because, deep down, she’s really afraid of people seeing her as just a stupid, pretty rich girl, when she’s actually wickedly smart and cunning. She’d rather rip out her own teeth than admit this, though, or at least it takes her a long time after they even start dating for her to admit it to Bianca.

Sometimes when Eugene’s not around and she’s stressed, Padma will go to the spot where he keeps his bees and just chill with them to calm herself down. Fairies, being forest creatures by nature, have an innate connection with all plants and insects, even if they don’t have an earth magic affinity, and Eugene’s bees really like Padma and will often bump against her face to say hello to her.

Now let us talk about Gus, my beloved stoner werewolf:

Despite werewolves very rarely maintaining canine characteristics when they’re in human form, Gus very much does - he always gets incredibly excited when someone he likes returns after being gone, even if they were only gone for a few minutes, and if you scratch a certain spot behind his ear he will just melt into a happy puddle.

Gus is also insanely clingy and affectionate when he’s high, and it doesn’t even really matter who it is he’s clinging to; if you’re close by and not already hugging or cuddling someone, you can expect a lap full of Gus, burrowing his head into your shoulder and giving you a bunch of compliments in a hazy voice.

Gus has had a bi flag hung up above his bed in his Nevermore dorm since he first arrived at the school. His first roommate, a haughty psychic who came from a super rich family, made a douchey comment about it, and it didn’t even take a whole week for Gus to report the incident to Weems and get his roommate expelled (Nevermore, thankfully, has a very strict no-discrimination policy). He doesn’t really care if people insult him, but he was not about to let the guy think that kind of behavior was okay and risk him repeating it with someone else.

As kind of a surprise given his general sunny disposition, Gus actually really likes true crime podcasts. On most given nights when there’s not some kind of get-together he needs to provide weed for, you can find him sitting on the window seat in his dorm room, smoking a joint with the window open and with his phone playing a podcast beside him.

Gus’s first kiss was actually with Yoko; it was at a little party thrown for Ajax’s birthday freshman year, after Yoko’s spin landed on Gus during a game of Spin the Bottle. The kiss was really quick, but it was also nice, and Gus is pretty proud to say it was his first kiss (and to tease Yoko about her supposedly wanting to kiss him again, which she always rolls her eyes at him for).

Speaking of Yoko, let’s finish these facts off with her new girlfriend, Holly:

I’m still not going to reveal exactly what Holly is just yet (you know, Alvita, of course, but I’d like to keep it a bit of a secret still), but I can tell you with absolute certainty that she hates it about herself. Despite attending a school full of what most people would consider “monsters,” Holly sees herself as an actual monster, and would give almost anything not to be the way she is.

What she is has also caused a lot of problems between her and her family, and as such, she’s one of only a handful of students who stay at Nevermore year-round, not going home for the holidays or summer break, which only serves to add to the layers of mystery and fear that most Nevermore students have around her.

Holly very nearly gives Xavier a heart attack the first time she speaks to him, after Wednesday defeats the Hyde and she decides to start trying to make friends - which, consequently, is the first time she’s really spoken to another person since coming to Nevermore. He nearly winds up falling off a balcony, she scares him so much, which Holly feels really bad about, but he’s also quick to reassure her about it and strike up a genuine conversation with her.

During the time when she kept to herself and didn’t speak, Holly would usually keep herself busy with embroidering various things, which she learned from her grandmother. She’s incredibly good at it, and even gifts Yoko a handkerchief embroidered with a quote from Dracula for their first anniversary.

Holly’s favorite holiday was always Halloween when she was a kid (coming from a family and a very long line of outcasts, it was kind of inevitable), but due to some very significant reasons from her past she can hardly stand it anymore. She now throws all of the energy she used to put towards Halloween into celebrating Christmas, and though of course everyone around her notices how much she avoids Halloween, they’ve learned by now not to question it.

Thanks again for asking me about my babies!! Love you!! <3

[my-lunadea-universe]

The Conquest.

Chapter 1: The wedding.

Synopsis: the story of the three Targaryen siblings that changed history. How Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys conquered Westeros. It is a tradition of House Targaryen to marry among their own blood and Aegon and Visenya must follow the tradition.

TW!: mention of incest, spoilers for the Fire and Blood book. This is mostly book canon but I’ve taken some liberties. I used a translator for the parts in Valyrian so sorry if there's any mistake.

Aegon hadn't had a proper sleep in days, every night tossing and turning, he dreamt of dragons, of a night that never ended and ice.

He dreamt of ice.

Something cold as the stranger and crueler than it. That’s how he explained it to Orys that morning.

Orys Waters was his servant and confidant. He was seven years his senior, he looked up to him growing up, always wanted to be better than him, not out of malice or jealousy but a pure brotherly rivalry.

"Maybe her ladyship knows how to interpret it. She always has her nose stuck in a book and they are always about this type of mystifying themes". He knew he meant his sister Visenya.

His sister and betrothed. The woman she was going to marry in less than four hours.

"You’re not fair to my lady sister, she is not always reading, she spends a great deal of time beating your ass at the training field".

"My lord, she is beating both of our asses". That made Aegon laugh. Orys knew what to always say to make him feel better, even if it was a small jester like that.

"I am marrying not only the wisest of women but also one of the bravest".

"¿One of them, my lord? ¿Do you know any other woman with more courage than her?".

"Not more but I would say my sister Rhaenys is at the same level", he couldn’t help but smile when thinking of his baby sister. He was a mere two years younger and yet in his eyes he will always be his little one.

"Ah yes but it’s just due to her lack of good judgment. Lady Visenya is too wise as you’ve said to do half of the foolishness Lady Rhaenys does. She does it every single day I might add".

"Orys, you know I agree but do not let my mother catch you saying those words, even if she also agrees herself".

They both laughed. Alone it was the time when they could be themselves. Aegon didn’t trust people easily, not that he knew many, he hadn’t left Dragonstone since he was born but he felt uneasy next to others. He had to play a role, he had to be the lord of Dragonstone, the heir of the Old Valyria. He couldn’t fail, he couldn’t be weak in the eyes of others.

Only his sisters and Orys allowed him to do so because he knew they wouldn’t ask for anything in return and they wouldn’t try to take anything from him.

He would willingly give them the world if he could.

Aegon took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. He was half dressed, in a traditional attire from his people, his true people, Valyrians not Andals nor first men.

Orys tied the red robe around his waist, it was the first layer. 

"I look like my lord father" he muttered a bit surprised.

He had never seen the similarities between the two, even though his mother kept insisting they were exactly the same. 

"You haven’t dressed up properly in a while, that’s why you see the similarities now. His lordship likes to dress according to his statue".

"A nice way of saying he likes to show off". Orys was putting on the next layer of clothing when he had to stop and take a big hysterical laugh. There were few things that made them both happier than making fun of Lord Aerion. "If father hears you, brother, you will be spanked like when we were children".

Rhaenys had entered the room.

His beautiful and wild Rhaenys.

She had truly bloomed that summer, just turned ten and five. She had known no winter and it showed, she only knew of happiness, always daydreaming and whistling a song.

"My lady" Orys bowed respectfully and stepped aside, letting the siblings some room. Aegon thanked it immensely.

"Good morning sir Orys. A wonderful day, quite perfect for a wedding, I would say" Rhaenys had a mischievous smile as she spoke, she had been enjoying reminding everyone of the upcoming event, almost as much as if it was her own wedding.

"Yes, my lady, I would say it is the perfect day for the event" Orys enjoyed her playfulness, always teasing each other.

"Lo muña ūndegon aōha grēza, kesā sagon qilōna hae sȳrī". (If mother sees you with that dress, you will be the one who is punished). 

Rhaenys looked ravishing, with a dress that seemed like sea foam around her, covered in crystal, when the lights hit her she seemed to have a halo of rainbows coming from her. She was dripping in elegance but her brother couldn’t help to feel a sting of pain, for he would love to give her diamonds and pearls, rubies and emeralds, anything better than simple trinkets but they were not exactly the richest of houses which made no sense neither to him nor his sisters, specially for Visenya. Rhaenys's fashion was not exactly their mother’s taste. 

"Lēkia nyke iā tembyr recently, ziry urnēptre jurnegon hen ābrar isse se tolmiot tegun hen Qarth, pōnta grēze hae bisa, ñuha jorrāelagon lēkia. Yn ēdis pōja naejossa hen. ao imagine skoros muña would ivestragon lo ziry ūndan nyke?".(Brother I found a book recently. It had pictures of a far land by the name of Qarth. They wear clothes like this, my dear brother.  But they had one of their breasts uncovered. Could you imagine what mother would say if she saw me dressed like that?).Aegon laughed, he found her curiosity endearing and admirable in equal parts.

She was enamored with adventure and everything new she could get her hands to would be like pure gold to her. She loved the stories that came from the east and also the ones from the south and the west and probably the ones from north too.

Everything outside that island was interesting to her.

"She would drop dead at that very moment,  ñuha jorrāelagon" (my dear).

"Nissa se mērī drīve bona stops nyke hen gaomagonziry". (That’s the only reason that stops me from doing it). 

Rhaenys hugged him from behind, locking her arms around his waist. Aegon always found peace in his sister’s embrace.

Her hair smelled of sweet flowers and was carefully braided with pearls forming what seemed like a tiara.

"Who did your hair today? I like it".

"Visenya gōntan. Ziry gōntan ñuha ōghar se nyke gōntan zȳhon". (Visenya did. She did my hair and I did hers).They were raised speaking and learning every day in high Valyrian, the language of their ancestors felt like home.  Although, Aegon always felt rude speaking it in front of other people, for they couldn’t understand them. His sisters simply did not care, “They simply should learn then. We must adapt to their so called common language but they cannot learn ours?” Visenya always said.

"How does my bride look?".

"Gevie, gaomagon ao daor pendagon ziry?". (Beautiful, do you doubt it?).

"Gaoman daor daren. (I would not dare)" Aegon looked at Orys. He was waiting to finish dressing him. "Sir Orys, please wait outside, my sister will finish helping me dress, thank you".

"Yes, my lord" he bowed respectfully and left the room.

Rhaenys was blushing  for some reason as she took the rest of his wedding attire. A white robe with red in the bottom and in the sleeves.

"Ziry jurnegon hae ānogar (It looks like blood)" she whispered, touching the fabric with a curious look on her face.

"Issa. Dīnilūks iksis iā kivio hen ānogar". (It is. Marriage is a promise of blood).He took her hands between his. The siblings looked at each other with a sort of hunger. It had been happening often since that summer. Rhaenys had become a woman and woman needs she had. 

Aegon was tall for his age, not as tall as Visenya yet, but taller than most of the boys his age, he was handsome or so his fiancee told him and he hoped his younger sister would agree with his curly white hair and his violet eyes, darker than Rhaney’s but clearer than Visenya’s.

He caressed her hands with kindness. They had been going on with that game for weeks now, hidden touches when no one was watching, whispers and promises of something forming between the two.

They could not say what it was. Visenya was getting tired of them both. “If you crave for each other, why do you deny yourself of each other. I shall never understand your reservations to join our sister” She had told him one night.

"Ao jurnegon gevie tolī, ñuha jorrāelagon hāedar". (You look beautiful too, my dear little sister) Rhaenys tied the dress tightly around his brother’s waist, caressing his sides, she sent shivers straight to Aegon’s spine.

"Gaomagon eman naejot sagon dīnagon, lēkia". (Must I  marry, brother). The young girl asked in a whisper.

It broke Aegon’s heart just to think about it. To see her leave their home, to leave them, it felt like a burden too great to carry.

"Kesā dīnagon iā sȳz vala, mēre hen aōha iderēbagon.  Kesan mazverdagon sure hen bona".(You will marry a good man, one of your choosing. I will make sure of that).There was a silence between them. Maybe it was for the best, to stop speaking of matters that they still did not know how to handle. 

"Is our sister nervous?" he took the head piece he was supposed to wear and put it on, feeling strange with the weight.

"Kessa, yn kessa daor ivestragon ziry". (Yes, but she will not admit it). She secured his head piece with a thousand different types of hairpins that Aegon didn���t even know existed.

He could swear he tried to complain at some point but she slapped his arm and that was the end of the conversation.

Orys re-entered the room, taking them both by surprise.

"Excuse me my lord, your lord father is approaching".

Rhaenys knew that was her cue to leave. If their father found her there he would throw a fit, especially if she saw her in her dress.

"Sȳz biarves, lēkia. Emagon kirimves". (Good luck brother, have fun). She kissed his lips and left in a rush.

Aegon couldn’t help but smile. Rhaenys was truly the joy of their life.

"Thank you Sir Orys, for the warning".

"t’s my job to take care of you" he peaked out of the door and with a more solemn voice he announced "lord Aerion has arrived".

His father entered with maester Kerran, that man followed him more than his own shadow, that was something that always had gotten into Aegon’s nerves. 

"Kepus". (Father). 

"Look at you. A man. Never thought this moment would arrive" another thing that made Aegon’s skin crawl was his father’s refusal to use their ancestral language. It felt shameful, almost like a sin.

"Thank you father". Aerion and especially the maester made him feel unsafe. For Aegon the best way to not show it was to take a step back, taking cover inside himself, becoming someone else, someone completely different to the person his sisters knew.

"It is a delightful day, I wanted to tell you this morning but you were not in your chambers. Care to explain why?" Aerion sounded impatient and mostly annoyed.

Aegon had to use all of his will power to not roll his eyes at his lord father. "We are running a bit late. Let us talk while we are on our way to the beach" the young man knew there was no way he could get away from the conversation but nevertheless he could try.

They left Aegon’s room, the three of them. It seemed to the young dragon lord that he would never have a word alone with his father.

"I have not slept well during this week, riding Balerion always makes me feel at peace, I thought it would help me and it did". "That bloody beast. I have never understood why you chose it. It is dangerous for yourself and others, even its fellow dragons. It is too big, too aggressive…" "Kepus, it is true he is a mighty beast but Balerion and I are one and the same, he would never harm someone I care for. He does have his temper of course, as he is a dragon not a pet but we work well in unison for I did not choose him, he chose me". 

Aegon had claimed Balerion when he was merely ten and one, Rhaenys had convinced him to explore the northern mountains, an old volcano where the dragons slept and formed their nests, the island filled with smoke coming from that mysterious place but only the servants who cared for the dragons, low valyrians from Lys, dared to come close to it.

Around midday he lost sight of his sister and could not find his way back to the fortress, feeling the scorching sun on top of him and the lack of water on his lips, he thought he was dying but there he was. Balerion. In all of his black threatening glory.

The beast was older than the island, he was one of the first dragons to arrive with the Targaryen and he was Aegon’s.

Balerion took him between his claws, the little boy never feared, knowing he was going to be safe and he was taken home, left with care on the sand in front of the fortress's steps. The dragon roared and screamed until someone went to help the child.

They had been inseparable since then. "My lord, if I may give my opinion on the matter".

"As much as I would like to hear it, Maester Kerran, we are in fact late. I know my lord father has invited a lot of his peers from both the west and the east, it would be rude and against protocol to leave them waiting. Let’s focus on today’s celebration".

Aegon would have preferred to just give him to Balerion to feast on but alas he needed to be diplomatic. "Not many have come anyway" his father expected to impress others and make new business relationships with this special event.

Dragonstone didn’t produce much to begin with, being a volcanic island it was difficult to sell anything but his father had a mind for commerce and an ambition to maintain the wealthiness that their family had back in the times of Old Valyria.

He saw an opportunity in the fractured west, countries dried by constant wars, he brought valuable and essential goods from the east and sold them. He knew he could ask for whatever price he wished, for the seven kingdoms had no other chance but to negotiate.

Visenya was particularly uncomfortable with this situation and Rhaenys, though not very informed about it, concurred with her sister.

Aegon felt a heavy burden, he agreed with them but he also had to maintain his position as heir to the dragonstone title. It was like a sword on the front and back of his neck, it didn’t matter where he moved he was doomed to feel the sharpness of the blade.

"It is not for lack of interest, my lord, they were unable to, king Harren Hoare has declared war to…"

"Everyone, maester Kerran, his majesty has a tendency to fight everything and everyone that surrounds him".

Aegon wanted to contain himself, he truly tried but he had gotten tired of the endless bickering in the seven kingdoms.

"And I am sure that he fights those far away too but that is not our problem. Remember we are not diplomats, we are merchants".

We are neither. He could hear his sister screaming. We are dragons.

"I could go with you next time you visit, kepus. I am ready, I have been studying hard and as you said I am a man and your heir".

His father looked at him with a mix of pride and fear, the one of a father watching his son grow.

"We will talk about it later, as you said we are running late to the ceremony".

Aegon was disappointed but not at all surprised at his father's reaction but he was not mad because the thought of finally seeing his bride made it impossible to be in a bad mood. The ceremony went as expected, they shared their blood, they promised each other unconditional love and for some reason Aegon felt he had already done that a thousand times before. Although It felt like it went by too fast, too quickly. He had been waiting for months, his entire life and now he could call Visenya his wife.

The banquet, on the other hand, felt incredibly long and draining, probably because of the anticipation he was feeling of finally being alone with his new bride.

"Issi ao okay, ñuha tresy?" (Are you okay, my son?). His mother, always by his side.

She looked beautiful with her hair starting to be white, she was late into her 40s, she had the three siblings very late for what the norm usually was, his parents never said why, maybe they tried but did not work or they just did not want children when they were young nevertheless Aegon doubted there was a kinder mother in all of Westeros or the east, she was the personification of the goddess Meleys, the goddess of love and kindness. 

She wore a blue dress with a matching tiara, always proud of her Velaryon heritage.

"Kessa, gaomagon daor zūgagon muña" (Yes, do not worry mother). 

"Nyke gīmigon, bisa kostagon sagon yn nyke jorrāelagon, hae iā muña, naejot ȳdragon naejot ao nūmāzma skoros iksis ought naejot massigon bisa bantis".(I know, this may be uncomfortable but I need, as a mother, to talk to you about what is ought to happen tonight).

Aegon tried to hide his embarrassment, although it was difficult to do so, he felt his cheeks grow red and his beat accelerating. He did not have much experience with women for he only knew Visenya and he had no desire to change that. Orys was far more adventurous than him and he had told him a great deal that he was eager to try with his new bride.

They had played with each other before marriage, of course, their bodies grew up and their desire did as well but it felt like always someone interrupted them, it did not matter if they were at the beach, inside their chambers, in a hidden cave… they were always caught but after tonight no one would care, no one could insult them any more.

"Muña, mirre iksis sȳz, nyke gīmigon skoros iksis naejot sagon se olvie īlon jorrāelagon tolie naejot sagon se gūrēñagon skorkydoso naejot sagon valzȳrys se ābrazȳrys". (Mother, all is good, I know what is to be known and most importantly we love each other enough to be patient and learn how to be husband and wife).

The woman smiled and patted her son on his back. She was proud of him, of the man he was becoming, she was proud of the three of them, she had used to say that she got lucky but Aegon knew it was no mere of luck, it was her hard work, her dedication and love to her children payed off and they would be forever grateful to have her in their life.

"My lord, my lady, Lord Horas Redwyne requested a word". Orys announced, avoiding looking into Valaena’s eyes. Mother and son nodded.

The relationship between his sworn protector and his mother had an interesting relationship in the sense that it was non-existent, his mother had always been kind to Sir Orys but kept her distance for reasons that Aegon suspected but decided to not ask. He preferred to be kept in the dark for certain secrets. Lord Redwyne was a thin dark skinned man with hair as orange as autumn pumpkins. He had always been kind to the siblings, Visenya found him strangely amusing, for he had a terrible sense of humor and that was something his bride loved.

"Lord Horas, how kind of you to come", his mother had an honest smile on her face. She also liked the man, he had been a loyal partner to her husband’s business and to the family.

"I would never say no to an opportunity to visit Dragonstone, I would not miss a chance to see those beautiful beasts of yours, Lady Valaena". "Oh my lord, we are not only beasts, we have names, Visenya, Aegon and Rhaenys, remember?".

Aegon’s wife appeared on the scene, making Lord Horas burst into a deep uncontrollable  laughter.

If she looked beautiful during the ceremony, she was a vision with her new dress. It was a semi transparent black robe with golden details, she wore a red robe under it, made of dornish silk. The upper part seemed like armor, tight, too tight for Aegon’s sanity, it tied at the neck but left her chest open. 

Aegon cursed his sister Rhaenys in secret, for he had no doubt it was her idea to put her sister in that dress. Although, he also reminded himself he had to thank her later for that very same reason.

He had already been thinking all day of the moment he could be alone with her and she was making him lose his mind in that moment.

"May the seven bless you and your sense of humor, Lady Visenya, may they never take it away". "I will make sure to tell my gods, Lord Horas. 

Aegon laughed trying to cover the fact he was getting closer to his sister. Until his arm touched her back, caressing her slowly.

"Your lord father has told me you are visiting the Reach for your first marriage journey. May I invite you to the Arbor? We are bottling a new wine, we would be very happy to have you there".

Aegon was extremely excited for the trip. He didn’t understand why Visenya chose the Reach from all places, it seemed so out of character for her but he complied, for it was his first chance to be in that mysterious West land he dreamed about.

"It would be an honor and a pleasure, my lord. Thank you".

"You will be amazed by our new vines. We have created sweeter wine, it’s a mix of dornish and vines from the reach, left to marinate for at least five years…" Lord Horas could talk for hours about vines types until the person he was talking to fell on his knees begging for mercy.

"My lord, my children will have the joy and privilege to see those vines in person, unfortunately I won’t. Would you like to come with me and explain all of this to me?".

Lord Redwyne’s face lit up in joy. Like a kid receiving a name day’s gift.

The siblings saw the pair leaving and exchanged a knowing look. Aegon knew his sister was as excited as him for that night.

"Ao jurnegon tolī gevie, mandia. Kostan daor umbagon naejot sagon mērī lēda ao". (You look too beautiful, sister. I cannot wait to be alone with you). "Oh yn ziry iksos such iā morneo" (Oh but it 's such a pity). "Gaomagon ao nūmāzma, mandia?" (What do you mean, sister?) –Visenya turned to him, hiding him from the sight of the rest of the party. Her hands traveling dangerously to his breaches. "Iā gevie grēza bona īlva mandia ēdas nyke se sir iksā rip ziry hen nyke". (With such a beautiful dress that our sister had gifted me and now you are gonna rip it off me).

"Gaoman daor emagon naejot pryjagon ziry" (Well I don’t have to break it).

"Oh yn nyke haegon gaomā" (Oh but I hope you do).Aegon stopped breathing for a second. 

His sister's purple eyes locked with his, she had the darkest eyes of the three, his sister Rhaenys were almost gray in comparison.

He usually knew how to contain himself but looking in those eyes and that dress and that chest… He kissed her, hard for the whole world to see.

"Attention! May I have your attention please!"

Rhaenys’ voice woke them up from their trance, thank the gods, Aegon did not know what he would have done if that had not happened.

Maybe they would have had a public bedding after all. "So, first of all thank you for coming to celebrate love and family. I cannot believe this day has finally come…"

A sob caught in Rhaenys' throat, tears in her eyes. That wedding was as much hers as it was theirs, they both knew it and wouldn’t have it any other way. Aegon was extremely proud and happy to call her sister.

"Anyway, I have a gift for the beautiful bride and the handsome groom".

Some people entered the room, they were dressed in traditional valyrian clothes, similar to the ones they both wore for their ceremony. They carried strange instruments, they seemed made for music. They were clearly made with exquisite care, with reliefs carefully carved, the instruments itself told stories.

Their father approached the newlyweds in distress, their mother barely catching him.

"What in the seven hells is she doing?"

"I don’t know any seven hells, kepa and our sister is very obviously giving us a gift" Visenya was quick, too quick for her father. The songs those strangers played were deep and even gruesome in a way Aegon could not explain, a woman's voice sounded clear among the drums and chords, like a siren calling him to drown at the sea.

"They are a band of musicians from Lys, they are pure blood Valyrians, they have kept our traditions. I wanted them to sing today for you". 

He could hear Rhaenys speaking but felt faint.

That music.

It was waking up something in him he couldn’t fully understand.

"Issa jorrāelagon, ao gaomagon daor jurnegon sȳrī". (My dear, you do not look well).

His mother held his arm, bringing him back to reality.

"Lēkia, gaomagon ao jaelagon naejot ilagon". (Brother, do you need to sit down?).His sisters were looking at him with alarming eyes. Rhaenys seemed upset, she was clearly not expecting that reaction to her gift. 

His father had a severe expression, he was unpleased by the whole affair and Aegon knew his sister would get in trouble for it.

"Do not worry. Sister, tell me, can you dance these types of songs?"

Rhaenys hesitated to answer for she did not know the intentions of his brother.

"I… I do not know".

"–"Well, find out because I do love this music and I wish for you to dance until your feet hurt but I feel I have drunk too much and I need to sit down if I want to be ready for my bedding" Aegon took Rhaenys’s hands in his, making her laugh for the first time in a while making her blush like the little girl she was. "Do not worry, for it is my wedding and my sister just gave me the best gift I could ask for".

Visenya had a proud look on her face. 

Oh, there were not enough words in the common tongue or valyrian to explain how much they loved each other.

Rhaenys left running, excited beyond imagination. Her father followed her trying to stop her with the maester chastising her under his breath.

Aegon tried to smile until he was out of sight. He needed to hold Visenya's arms while he walked.

"Lo ao gaomagon daor feel sȳrī, īlon gaomagon daor emagon naejot…" (If you do not feel well, we don’t have to…).

"Nyke sepār jorrāelagon naejot, nyke jāhor sagon sȳz syt" (I am sure I just need to res and I will be ready for tonight).   

As much as he tried to convince his wife, Aegon could not even convince himself.

Those drums were haunting him again. Those bloody drums.

The people dancing.

His sister.

And that woman’s voice, piercing through.

The room started spinning around him, everything becoming a blurry mess.

He felt a warm liquid on his face, it took him a moment to realize blood was coming out of his nose.

"Aegon!" both his mother and Visenya caught him before he could fall hard into the ground.

Sir Orys went running trying to hold his head while he dozed again into a strange slumber.

He heard women’s voices again, different women, he might have heard a man’s voice, he could not be sure, he knew that wasn’t the singers but it was something as deep as fire as dark. A vision that swept him off his feet and made him transcend into a different time, a different place.

“I fed my last husband to my dragon..”.“Dragons… the grief and the glory of our house…”.It felt like he was flying, not on Balerion, he was the one flying, his arms had turned into wings, He saw a thousand bodies on the ground, he knew he had to keep himself afloat. Those voices kept him awake, they kept him alive.

“An eye for an eye, a son for a son…” “When the sun sets, your line shall end..”. A red comet passed over his head, it led him to a beach, the same one where he had gotten married that very same day. There was someone there. A flame in the shape of a woman. Coming out in the midst of salt and smoke. He heard dragons screeching and a loud scream. “And I will take what it’s mine, with fire and blood I will take it”

[georgiapeach30513]

Since we are starting to get a look at 3rd gen growing up(which feels so weird to me since I feel like it was yesterday we saw baby blade) can we see some of fable and her so, I think you said he was a lawyer?

I just want to state, I'm not going to fully dive into the third generation yet, we haven't fully told the stories of the first, and even the second. But It's fun to look a bit into the future.

I do NOT think you guys are ready for this! So Fable does marry a lawyer, she's known this lawyer since he could walk. AND they're already featured in a little drabble...for references Fable is twenty-seven, Dean is twenty-seven, and Sam is twenty-four.  Dean is also three years younger than Brooks.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Promptly At Six

Summary:  Someone has a crush on Fable

Pairings:  Fable X Sam

Rating: 😂😂

Warnings:  Fable Pearl Drysdale, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  750

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Fable Drysdale Masterlist

Sam huffs out air as they drive up the long road to the estate.  Becoming more nervous with each roll of the tires, “Why are you nervous?”

“Why are you not?” Dean just gives him a confident shrug.  Dean looks over to his brother, and slaps him on the shoulder.  “I just haven’t seen her in a few years.  I’m almost done with Stanford.”

“So is Sammy Winchester finally making it back to Boston, because of a sweet little Squish?” Sam rolls his eyes looking out the window, and seeing her childhood home come into view.  “Women, love younger men, too.  And you shot up there. Last time I saw her,” Dean stops when he sees a woman jump out of the car, his eyes staying on her for a bit too long.

“What was that you were saying?” Sam chuckles.  “You gonna tell Brooks you were checking his sister out?  How often do you stalk her social media?  Lucky for you that’s her job, huh?”

“Shut up.  At least I talk to Illiana.  When was the last time you said anything to Fable?”

“She’s older than me!  Illiana is how old?”

“Twenty-two,” Dean answers quickly.  Already getting out of the car so Sam doesn’t make another dumb ass comment about he knows too much about the girl.  “Keep your mouth shut Sammy.  I’ve got a best friend to worry about, you’ve just got a pretty little Drysdale and a sweet Birdie.  Eat lots of turkey.”

________________________________________________________________

Sam peeks out into the hallway, spotting Fable chatting it up with Birdie Mae, and just about loses his cool.  He turns to walk in the other direction, when he hears some giggles, “Sam Winchester,” he takes a deep gulp, turning around to see the beautiful Fable Pearl Drysdale.  “You’ve grown up, huh?”

Birdie Mae gives her friend a cheek kiss before leaving the two of them.  “You gonna talk to me, or are you just gonna follow me around?”

“I-I-I didn’t.”

“You were standing in the hallway, where there’s a mirror right over there, and I could see you,” she points at the mirror that was a perfect angle for her to see his reflection, just staring at her.  “So why were you lurking around in corners?  Dean got you playing those weird games again?” 

“No.  I just...”

“Is there a secret passage you haven’t got to explore yet?  I know one that Brookie and Dean don’t know.  Care to join me, or are you gonna stand there and stutter?  I don’t bite.”

With a nod of his head, Sam follows Fable through a few rooms, before going into her grandfather’s office, “I know there’s one in here.  Ransom always threatened to lock us in there if we went into this passage.  He always scared me.”

“Boo...well, since we’re in here, have a seat,” he waits for her to sit first before he joins her.  “You really look good Samuel.  Grew up a bit, huh?  Legs for days.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You were looking pretty good back in summer, too.”

“You did, too.”

Fable sits a moment looking at the shy boy, before she sighs in frustration, “Fine.  I’ll let you take me to dinner Saturday night.  I can’t go Friday, because I’m going shopping with my mom, aunts, and a few cousins.  There, you twisted my arm.”

“I’m still in school.”

“Only about a semester, left right?”

“Bachelors, yeah.”

“Hmm,” Fable looks over the man a bit more.  “I’m sure that there’s a law school in Boston.  What’s keeping you at Stanford?”

“So about that date, Saturday?”

“Yes, I like Italian food, but not as much as I like Indian food.  I expect you to pick me up, promptly at six.  Don’t make me wait.  And tell your brother to quit looking Ills up and down.  She’s got a car that she needs repaired, and he needs to insert himself in that.  She’s got a lot of suitors, and quite frankly, I just prefer your brother.”

“Fabes?” Fable looks at her little cousin Daisy as she stands in the doorway.  “Mimi and Papa said to tell you and the tall one that dinner is ready,” she turns around, and swats at the other giants stomach, “Brian, I don’t need to be carried everywhere.”

"You’ve got a weak heart,” he looks at Fable and Sam, smiling and laughing, “She’s got a weak heart.  She only likes reminding me of things like that when she doesn’t get her way.  Like every summer when I cut my hair.”

“I love the curls.”

“Sam, man, just follow her instructions.  She’s already got the reservations at her favorite restaurant.”

“Brian!  I’m gonna murder you!” Fable screams chasing the two out the door, “Come on Sam, you can sit next to me.”

Masterlist

[attllhak]

Adoption AU - Lullaby Reacts to Time’s Batman Level Adoption Bullshit

@tortilla-of-courage I offer you mercy. Also no one mentioned wanting to be tagged on the last story on this series so it’s just you for right now I guess.

Also, this fic is called ‘Aunt Lullaby/Uncle Sheik On Time’s Sudden Acquisition Of Kids’ in my docs, but I’ve been using the ‘Batman-Level Adoption Bullshit’ for so long that this is the title now.

Also! Some of the boys have some heavy topics to their backstories (Wars comes to mind as an example), so let me know if I need to tag this with certain warnings or stuff. Nothing is actually shown, but I figured I’d just put that out there.

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

Lullaby, who was still just Zelda then, had been very excited when Time, then just Link, had called her to tell her that Malon was pregnant.

She had gotten the call first, as Link had found it important that she knew before anyone else. After everything else in his life, he said, he wanted the person who he knew would always be there for him to know first, and that he was going to be making a few other calls later that day.

Link had never had an easy life. When his father died when he was 10, he’d ended up devastated. Zelda and her Aunt Impa had found him hiding in an alley a few days after, once he’d run away from the social workers. His sister Navi had been with him, and the two were sorting through the very few bits of snack food they’d had. Link’s father had been a foster parent for a lot of strays, orphans, or abused kids needing another place to stay. Link had fallen into the orphan category, and so the social workers had planned to cycle him back into the system. He’d lost contact with his sister Saria, whom he still hadn’t found out how to make contact with again, and so all he had was Navi. Impa had taken them both in on the spot, much to the annoyance of Zelda’s father initially, but the two grew on him. Navi went missing when Link and Zelda had been 17, after an issue with a man who really had wanted to see them both dead. Link hadn’t given up hope yet, but with every passing year it looked worse and worse for her to be okay.

Zelda had known Malon from day one, and had loved Link’s wife and was so happy to see him find that bit of happiness. The one thing she knew he wanted more than anything else was to have a solid, stable family of his own.

The pregnancy was a wonderful bit of news, and she couldn’t be happier for her brother.

She had spent some time over at their house, her then-girlfriend Ruto coming as well, helping Malon with some of the housework and such since she wasn’t supposed to be doing too much of the ranch work while pregnant.

She had arrived at the hospital less than thirty minutes after she got the call that Malon was in labor, and spent the time pacing in the hall, then supporting Link when he got kicked out after panicking too much. Apparently Malon had enough of him.

She could relate.

After Link had his whole ‘we made a whole baby person’ moment where his brain short-circuited after he was handed his son, the next person who got to hold him was Zelda. A chubby baby, who slept almost the whole time. He had his mother’s nose, thank Hylia.

Zelda saw him open his eyes only once that day, and she could swear she saw in his cobalt-silver eyes that same spark in his father’s eye. Singular, since Link only had the one.

Zelda’s family had a long tradition of naming their kids after family members. Her name was her grandmother’s and her great-grandmother’s, so on so forth. Her father had been pressing to pick a family name the entire pregnancy. Her mother had kept telling him to back off a little. Fortunately, Malon’s family also had a set of passed down names, hers being one of them. So the idea of naming the child after family wasn’t a big deal for her, even if it was a different set of names.

However, there was one thing to take into account here, and that was Link’s family.

No one knew what the naming traditions in his family were, he didn’t even know his birth parent’s names. But that didn’t change the desire to find a way to work them in too.

There was only one name from Link’s family that anyone knew.

The baby was named Link.

Zelda’s father stopped complaining a week later. Her mother was very clear about it.

At Zelda and Ruto’s wedding seven years later, Link Jr. was the ring bearer.

Junior stopped being his nickname when he was thirteen.

(---)

Zelda got a call from Link Sr. about a day after it happened with a simple request.

“Who was in charge of the paperwork when your family adopted me?”

Zelda blinked once, then twice. “Come again?”

“The lawyer who arranged for my adoption, who was that?” Link asked again.

“Why?” Zelda asked, her wife leaning around the doorframe to give her a concerned look. Zelda shot her a thumbs up.

A heavy sigh came from the other end of the phone. “I think I’ve acquired another son,”

Zelda came over.

This new nephew of hers, apparently, was a sweet boy. A series of scars littered his entire left side, burn and explosive damage if she were to guess, and he had no idea how he got them. He had amnesia. The one thing he did know was his name.

His name was Link.

Zelda had to take a minute. She was trying very hard not to laugh. This was exactly the kind of luck her brother had.

“Zelda, stop mocking me, this wasn’t my call,” Link whined, though he’d never say it was a whine.

“Link, you have to see the humour here,” she gasped, waving at the two boys in the living room where Jr. was trying to show Scars how to use a lasso. This was Zelda’s idea, but she wasn’t taking responsibility for it.

Link just sighed heavily. “Link found him on the street. Malon looked into it and his parents died in a car crash a year ago, he has nowhere to go. We’ve agreed to let him stay, you understand that,”

Zelda nodded, sobering up some. “Yeah, I get that, kinda. The lawyer we hired was named Rauru, Mom should have his contact information still, you should call her,”

Link sighed, relieved. “Thank you,”

“Of course, just don’t make it a habit,”

(---)

The first inclination this would be a habit was a year later.

Wild, the younger of his sons, was in the same class as another boy named Link. This boy had lived with his uncle his whole life, and got the call his uncle died when at school. Sheik was about ready to punch someone for doing that to the boy, and just before christmas no less.

Wild brought him home, insisting he could stay at least for the holidays. The agreement wasn’t even a question, there was no way he was going to be forced to spend a holiday at an orphanage.

When Sheik and Ruto showed up on christmas day, not that their family cared much for christmas but they were all off anyways, the newest Link had been named Legend.

He was a little more shy than the others, understandably, and a little snappish.

Not a bad kid, just one grieving and in need of family. That was something their family had never hesitated to provide.

Sheik’s mother teaching him how to spin a butterfly knife was probably not the wisest decision, but considering Rottla heard a therapist say “Your kids are traumatized, they need to feel safe again,” and decided to sign them up for every martial arts she could, well, it should have been a sign that she wasn’t the best in that regard. Time, Link Sr., had made it very clear he felt Sheik took after her. Sheik had no idea what his brother was talking about.

Legend didn’t leave after that. One call to Rauru, and Legend was a permanent member of the family.

Sheik took great pride in being the favorite Uncle of Legend’s, after his late guardian of course. He pointedly ignored that he was the only Uncle, and only part-time.

Time could suck it.

(---)

Lullaby, since so many of her nephews’ friends were named Zelda apparently, received a call at five am.

True, she knew her brother and his wife woke up at sunrise to do yard work and such, but usually they were kind enough to let her sleep in.

Not so this morning.

“Wha?” She mumbled into the phone, trying, and failing, to not wake her wife.

“Zelda,” came Malon’s clipped tone through the receiver, “do you know about a missing person’s case for one Jerimiah Smith?”

Zelda blinked heavily, and had to convince herself not to go back to sleep. Who, why did Malon care? It was five am, the sun wasn’t even up yet.

“Why?” She asked to buy time, still working on a quarter of thought. Ruto rolled over and held her. Not helping, Ruto.

“I have a Link Smith in my barn claiming that his grandfather went missing, and he’s run away from a temporary foster home,” Malon explained, and okay that was worth waking up for.

Lullaby sat up, pushing Ruto’s arm from her waist to her lap, causing her wife to grumble, and turned on the lamp, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. “Okay, okay pause. Pause and back up,” she half-swallowed a yawn, squinting into her bedroom. “What is going on?”

“I got up to do some work, since Link is still asleep, and I came into the barn to find a boy asleep in the hay, here you are,” her voice dropped away from the receiver, likely talking to the boy in question, then came back. “So I found a boy in the hay, and I woke him up. He says his name is Link Smith, and he was living with his grandfather since his father was overseas in the military. His father wasn’t home enough to care for him, so his grandfather had sole custody after his mother died or something, there was a lot of tears at this part. Anyways, his grandfather went missing a week ago, and he’s been through three foster homes and none of them were very accepting of, he apparently has a ‘mental thing’ that he’s dealing with. I was wondering if you could confirm his story?”

Lullaby leaned over the bed, grumbling, and grabbed her laptop, Ruto giving up on getting her back to bed and sliding up the headboard with her to drape over her shoulders while she pulled up Firefox. “Hold on,” she told her sister in law, plugging the name into Google. Jeremiah Smith, went missing a week ago, blah blah blah, oh there we go.

Link Smith, grandson of Jerimiah Smith, left in limbo after his grandfather’s disappearance. Oh, that was interesting. According to this article, which most certainly was breaking some privacy laws and if Link Smith was staying it would be coming down, the boy had multiple personality disorder.

“Yeah, he’s telling the truth,” Lullaby said, switching the phone to her other ear so Ruto could nuzzle up better without bumping it. “Also, I found his weird ‘mental thing’. According to this article, which I’m pretty sure isn’t legal, he’s got dissociative identity disorder,”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Ruto mumbled, still mostly asleep on her shoulder.

“No, not really. He’s actually more likely to be in danger than a danger,” she twisted to kiss her wife’s head, then went back to Malon. “He probably really needs someone who’ll be supportive enough through all this, both the disappearance and his condition. DID isn’t something easy to live with, I can see him having some issues with foster parents,” Lullaby had never been so glad that she got bored one day and decided to look it up after she heard people talk about it so negatively. You never know when information like that would be useful.

“He’s fine to take in?” Malon whispered after a moment. “I just, the other boys,”

“Will need to be patient, but unless one of his alters is particularly bad for dealing with threats, perceived or otherwise, in an unkind way then he’s fine and safe to be around. I’d ask him about that, but don’t force him to admit anything that can be bad for him, but I don’t see any more risk than taking in Wild or Legend,”

Malon sighed on the other end of the line. “Alright, I’ll bring him in and wake up Link, so he can call Rauru about all this while I sit with him and try and get him to relax,”

“Wonderful, I’ll call the office and see about what I can do about this article then. And for the record, if you ever call me at asscrack of dawn o’clock in the morning again, then next time we meet I’m clocking you,”

Malon had the nerve to laugh.

Four, as he’d been nicknamed by the time Lullaby and Ruto showed up to meet him, was a fascinating person. Green, the host of his system, was a brave, if occasionally airheaded, boy who wanted to try everything, and had been fascinated by his grandfather’s old-timey forge. Time had plans to make one in the yard for him. Red, the emotional and spiritual protector of the system, was empathetic and sweet and compassionate. No one had a bad word to say about Red. Vio, short for Violet, was the gatekeeper for the system and kept the four of them working on the same page. Bright and clever boy, his nose stuck in a book most of the time and willing to offer up the most random and yet useful information. Blue, the physical protector, was a little gruff and definitely someone you just got used to, but he cared deeply about his ‘brothers’ as they called each other, and the external brothers he acquired grew on him quickly enough too. It was a bit of a fight to get custody of him, but Rauru was the best there was, so it was only a week or two before the paperwork was going through for him.

Lullaby had a feeling this wasn’t the end by a long shot, and prayed that Hylia would be merciful about granting Time’s wish for a family.

She was going a little overboard.

(---)

Sheik wasn’t surprised in the least at the newest addition when he walked in the one day. No, mostly he was just confused as to why he hadn’t gotten a phone call before he got there.

Usually there was a phone call.

He was very upset by the way the boy looked, however.

This new addition, Warriors as he’d learn later that Time acquired yet another Link, was curled up in the corner of the couch with his scarf wrapped around him like a blanket, clearly trying not to be seen. Voices floated out of the kitchen, and Sheik picked up that Twilight brought him home, and was lobbying for a new brother.

Ah, that’s why there was no phone call.

Ruto went to investigate the conversation, so Sheik decided to introduce himself to his newest nephew.

Upon closer inspection, the boy looked about Twilight’s age, and had a bruise on his temple, maybe a day or two old now. Looking closer saw a few more on the left side of the boy’s face. Someone hit him, with purpose.

Sheik sat down next to him and said nothing, waiting for him to make the first move. Eventually, he poked his head out of his scarf.

“Hello,” Sheik offered once it became clear he wouldn’t be saying anything.

“Hullo,” he mumbled into the fabric, glancing away and back at his feet.

“My name is Sheik,” Sheik offered lightly. “Time is my brother,”

The boy looked up, eying him. “Twilight is your nephew?”

“Yes, he is,” Sheik nodded, smiling at him. “You’re a friend of his?”

The boy shrugged. “Kinda,” a beat of silence passed, then he shifted around. “He said I’d be safe here,”

“You will be,” Sheik agreed, trying to be comforting. “I can assure you of that,”

He hummed and snuggled back into his scarf.

“May I, if this isn’t overstepping, can I ask why you need somewhere to be safe?” Sheik asked after a moment.

He tensed up, eyes darting to him and at the doorway, and then back, wide eyes a little panicked.

Sheik was just about to apologize when the boy spoke.

“I ran away from home,” he admitted, looking away. “My uh, my parents aren’t, great people. I can’t go back, so I need somewhere else to go. Twi said I could be safe here, that his parents would fight for me,”

“They will,” Sheik said with enough conviction it almost startled him. “I know my brother, and he can’t turn away from someone in need, and his wife is the most strong willed woman I’ve ever met. You won’t find another pair of people more willing to go to war for you than them.”

He blinked at Sheik, then nodded, relaxing a little. “And, if my parents come for me?”

Sheik grinned. “My family is very rich, and we have a small army of very good lawyers. You won’t be going back there, I assure you,”

He smiled, and leaned over towards Sheik a little. “I’m Link,”

Of course you are, Sheik thought. He held out an arm for ‘Link’ to lean into, not getting attached to the name since it would be changing. The boy leaned into his side easily, deflating against him with a sigh. He looked so tired.

“Link,” Sheik asked carefully, watching his words. “Can I ask about the bruises on your face?”

The boy blinked up at him, biting his lip.

“They uh, my dad did that,” he admitted in a small voice, curling into Sheik’s side, and the sheikah pulled him in close to his side, hoping to provide the comfort Link was seeking. “Right before I left. I packed up and went through the window. My twin sister is still there, and I’m a little worried about her, but I can’t go back again. I, he,” he paused, sucking in a breath. Sheik rubbed his arm and side, trying to help him calm down, ignoring the tears on his shirt.

“I thought he was going to kill me,” Link finally admitted in a small, scared voice.

Sheik knew he never had very many parental instincts, and he and Ruto agreed no kids before they even got engaged, but for the first time ever Sheik felt that flare that Time and Malon described everytime something threatened their kids. It was then and there Sheik decided this boy would be part of their family, whether Time was the one who took him in or not. No kid should have to say that and mean it. No kid should be scared their parent was going to kill them.

Oh, the lawyers Sheik was planning on bringing down on whoever these assholes were would be many.

Time took the boy in, as Sheik predicted (thankfully), and sure enough the immediate support was immense. His parents never even put out a missing persons report. Sheik added child negligence to his list of growing charges to lay out.

Two months after Warriors moved in, he got a call from his sister. She got out and was safe now, and wanted to be sure he was as well. This made him very relieved. They met up once or twice, and seemed to be getting back to normal.

Two weeks later, Legend and Wild got suspended distracting Warriors’ parents so Twilight could sneak him out the back of the school. Four didn’t get suspended, but only because when Vio messed with the security cameras to cover up the escape he didn’t get caught. Time took all three out for ice-cream and junk food when he picked them up.

Lullaby saw an opportunity and took it without hesitation. Lawyers were called and organized, and without much wait there was an order for both of them to appear in court on child abuse and negligence charges. The kidnapping charge laid against them in retaliation was almost laughable.

A few weeks later, Time and Malon had full custody of Warriors pending a proper criminal trial for full punishment of his parents, at which time Linkle, Warriors’ twin sister, planned to testify as well. If they couldn’t get things settled before Warriors turned 18, then they planned to push through an adult adoption the day he did. A birthday present, Time had said. Lullaby laughed.

(---)

Sky was probably the most skittish of Time’s sons.

Lullaby wasn’t sure entirely why he was so skittish, but he was. He reminded her of a bird, or a rodent, or a cat who really, really didn’t want to interact with new people.

She had been briefed before she visited on Sky’s background. His social worker had been having trouble setting him up with a home where he’d stay for longer than a week or so, and in a last ditch effort had asked Time and Malon, with their long track record of housing troubled and unhousable youths, if they could take one more. They agreed.

Sky apparently had a friend, a bit of a troublemaker if Lullaby guessed correctly, who had gotten the two arrested. Time mentioned the event had Sky concerned about being ‘too much trouble’ and that ‘they’d get rid of him too’ or something. Time said this was ridiculous, as Sky caused him the least amount of trouble, but the boy was concerned about being thrown away again. He apparently had a few self-worth issues.

Lullaby found him on the back porch talking to the birds. Not in any human language, mind you, and Lullaby spoke many, but cooing and chirping back at them. He seemed very happy and at ease like that, singing at the birds.

“Do you mind if I join you?” She asked in a whisper during a pause in the conversation.

Sky jumped, eyes wide, and he squirmed a little when he saw her. “Uh, sure, I guess,”

She sat on the other end of the bench next to him, and calmly went back to watching the birds, and him interacting with them. He seemed much more at ease here than he did with people.

“Did you need something?” He asked, after a while, letting a blue jay grab a peanut from his hand.

“Not specifically,” she shook her head. “I had wanted to meet you, but nothing else,”

He blinked at her a little dumbly.

“Why would you want to meet me?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” She asked back, not sure what he was trying to say.

“Well, I mean, I’m not exactly special. And, it’s not like I’m staying,”

“I think you’re pretty special, most people can’t get birds to land on their hands like that,” Lullaby said gently, not liking how he spoke about himself. “And why would you think you aren’t staying?”

“I never stay,” he admitted, turning his eyes back to the birds, frowning. “No one ever considers me worth the effort,”

“You are very much worth the effort,” Lullaby countered, trying her best to keep her face soft instead of pinching up. “Trust me, however much effort you are, it is nowhere near the level of your brothers. Time wouldn’t have taken you in if he didn’t want you,”

“He’s just doing Impa a favour,” he said glumly, offering up more birdseed to the birds. “I won’t be staying forever,”

“I’m sure my brother has explained why that’s bullshit,” Lullaby said bluntly.

“But, I got arrested,” he mumbled.

“So have three of your brothers,” Lullaby pointed out. “Regularly. For much worse things. I promise you, that is not an issue,”

“But,”

“If you are going to say something bad about yourself again then I’m telling you right now I’m not going to listen to it,” Lullaby cut him off. “Time has told me a lot about you, and all of it is how much he loves you,”

“Really?” Sky looked up at her.

“You cause him the least amount of headaches of all his sons,” Lullaby smiled. “He adores you,”

Sky turned away, clearly trying to think that over.

“How about you tell me more about the things you enjoy doing,” Lullaby suggested.

“Huh?” Sky asked, turning back to her.

“I’d like to get to know more about what makes my nephew happy,” she smiled.

“Why?”

“Well, I’d be a bad aunt if I didn’t, especially since you’ll be sticking around,”

Sky looked like he didn’t believe her, but told her about his woodcarving anyways.

Lullaby was happy that as time went on Sky became less skittish and self-deprecating. He was a sweet kid, and as he got more comfortable and confident more of his true colours started showing through.

She felt a bit bad for Time, though. Apparently he was as prone to chaos as his brothers, he was just more subtle about it.

Time brought it on himself though. He should have known this when he adopted six boys.

(---)

The call about the next son had Lullaby’s head hitting her kitchen table, groaning loudly even when Ruto came to check on her.

Wild found a boy in the woods and they’d decided to keep him.

This was getting to be just a bit too much.

When Sheik and Ruto got to meet the boy, they were a bit taken aback. They had expected another Wild.

What they got was a quiet boy who mostly kept to himself. He was a bit shy, but he seemed to open up a bit more around Wild and, amusingly, Legend. He was a bit jumpy, but considering they had no idea how long he was in the woods that was expected.

What was surprising them most was that he did actually have a mother, who loved him very much, but who was very sick and so wasn’t able to actually take care of him, thus the wandering in the woods. His mother had been very worried, but physically unable to look. She had asked family to check but they gave up pretty quickly.

In light of her family being horrible for taking care of her son, and not knowing if she’d survive her illness, she asked Malon and Time if they could take care of her son for her since she clearly couldn’t trust her relatives and the boy’s father had abandoned them the moment she decided to keep him.

Time and Malon had taken one look at the boy and their sons, and agreed. They worked out an arrangement to keep the boy’s mother in the loop, and then they called Rauru. After which Time called his sibling.

This boy’s name was also Link. Sheik did not feel bad about laughing. Really, his brother had the weirdest luck.

They, for some reason, decided his nickname would be Hyrule. Why they decided to name him after the country, Sheik didn’t know. Apparently it was the only nickname he liked.

He had trouble reading, but he liked learning, especially if he could use what he learned to help people.

He fit right in, which made Sheik wonder exactly when his brother was going to stop adopting. He hoped it was before the ranch house ran out of room.

(---)

Eight. He stopped at eight.

Which was still too many, in Sheik’s opinion, but whatever.

The newest hellraiser at least didn’t come from the streets like almost all of the others.

This Link (because yes, his name was Link too) had recently lost his parents and his grandmother couldn’t financially support both him and his sister. So Time and Malon agreed to take care of him for her. The rest of their sons all acquired a grandma as well, it seemed.

They nicknamed him Wind, and he immediately latched onto his older brothers and started giving his new parents headaches.

When Lullaby and Ruto showed up next, she felt no sympathy for her brother. He brought this on himself.

She was more than a little pissed off when the brat stole her wallet though. Damn thief.

Time assured her that they’d talk to him about it. Lullaby wasn’t sure that’d help.

But, she reasoned, despite the chaos, Time was happy. Practically giddy. He lit up whenever he spoke about his sons, and he clearly loved them dearly.

Hylia had granted his wish for a family. She maybe went a bit overboard, but as long as Time was happy, so was Lullaby.

(---)

She wasn’t commenting on the ninth kid. She refused.

At least his name wasn’t ‘Link’.

[nikethestatue]

La Dolce Vita

Summary: Elain Archeron and Azriel - in love, in lust, in Italy

Modern AU *slight TOG crossover. If you read my stuff, you know it’s LONG

Warnings: bad language and THIS IS NSFW (not kidding, this is a story, not just sex, but there is a LOT of explicit material here. You can still read the story, but if you are sensitive or underage, skip the naughty bits)

Comments are always appreciated/wanted/needed. Anon or not, just do it! Obviously, reblogs are appreciated. 

Part I (Flowers)

 La Vie En Rose

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens (Of the man to whom I belong)  Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle l'a tout bas (He speaks to me softly) Je vois la vie en rose (And I see life in pink) Il me dit des mots d'amour (He speaks words of love to me) Des mots de tous les jours (They are every day words) Et ça m' fait quelque chose (And they do something to me) Il est entré dans mon coeur (He has entered into my heart) Une part de bonheur (A bit of happiness) Dont je connais la cause (That I know the cause of) C'est lui pour moi (It's only him for me) Moi pour lui dans la vie (And me for him, for life)

Now

Riding in a Ferrari, being enveloped in its supple, buttery leather, gulping in the cypress and cedar-scented air of Tuscany was everything that Elain Archeron had ever wanted. She never knew that this is what she wanted, because riding in very fast, very expensive, sleek Italian cars wasn’t on her ‘fantasy radar’, but now that she was in one, she suddenly came to the realization that this was perhaps one of the best experiences of her life.

The whole thing, so far, has been the best experience of her life.

Well…maybe not the best-best.

Her happiness was deeply intertwined with and caused by the man in the driver seat of the said Ferrari—Azriel. Azriel Archeron, as he loved calling himself. Even if this wasn’t his last name, he preferred using it over his family name, for a variety of personal reasons. There was nothing better, more sublime, more beautiful and more loving than Azriel. The perfect male specimen, if she could say so herself. No one would argue with her assessment either.

Elain

 They were introduced by her sister’s then-boyfriend Cass, who was giving her a lift one afternoon, and then suggested that they stop by Azriel’s car atelier, because he needed to pick something up.

Elain’s heard of the mysterious Azriel from her sisters, both of whom had claimed that he was the most handsome man that either one of them had ever seen. Elain chuckled at the exuberant praise, doubting its truthfulness. There was no such thing as the ‘most handsome’ man. Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder.

She wasn’t sure what a car atelier was, and when Cassian pulled up to a modern-looking building, she said that she’d stay in the car and wait.

“Come on, petal, don’t be shy,” Cassian urged her, holding the car door open for her in a way that indicated that she’d have to get out and follow him.

They entered the foyer, a vast space with racing stripes painted on the polished cement floor, and a sea of model cars dropping from the ceiling. Behind a wall of glass, Elain spied a row of gorgeous cars, none of which were familiar to her. Some unique European models, fit for James Bond’s consumption. There were also neat antique cars, probably from the 50s. She immediately had visions of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant riding in one of these along the Riviera coast.

“What’s this place?” she inquired, looking around at the mid-century modern building that resembled a spaceship.

“This is Az’s baby,” Cass explained vaguely. “Conceived, conceptualized, restored, outfitted—all by the brilliant mind of one Azriel Bagarat.”

“Are you bragging?”

A deep, sensual voice, that could only be called ‘midnight’ sounded behind them, and Cassian’s handsome, tanned face broke in a mischievous smile. “Only about you, brother!”

When Elain turned around, her breath was knocked out from her lungs.

She didn’t know that it was possible, to be actually stunned by someone’s beauty, but there she stood, gaping, feeling the world slow and move in a different manner for a few moments.

Standing at a towering 6”4 or so, the man was at least as tall as Cassian, and Cassian was the tallest man Elain’d ever met. She was just as muscular, but not as bulky. Clad in all black, from expensive, well-tailored Diesel jeans, to a soft t-shirt that stretched over his sharply cut torso, emphasizing the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders, and the narrow waist, true to her sisters’ word, this Azriel was simply exquisite.

Cassian draped his heavy arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward, just a bit, and said,

“Petal, say hello! This is my brother, Azriel. Az, this is my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, the one and only Elain Archeron.”

At the words ‘sister-in-law’ Elain whipped her head to Cassian, who grinned maniacally at her, nodding and answering her silent question.

“When? What are you talking about?” she exclaimed, Azriel momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean? You’ve only been seeing each other for like three months?!?”

“Baby girl, I don’t need three years to decide…Nes is Nes and she is the one for me.”

He shrugged with his usual ease, acting like they were discussing the weather or a good burger that he just ate.

“If Nes hears even a whiff of this, I will know it’s you, petal, and well, I am not sure what I will do,” he decided upon reflection, but then pleaded, “please, don’t tell her. This one,” he nodded towards Azriel, who was standing still, green eyes peeled to Elain, “I can trust. He hardly ever talks,”

“That’s because you talk for all of us,” noted Azriel with a smirk.

Elain chuckled, and turned back to face him.

He extended his hand to her, with an odd, tentative movement, and when she looked down, she saw old, mottled scars that covered his palm and part of his wrist and forearm. A vintage Patek Phillipe on his wrist.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, and he gave her a surprised look, unsure of what she was referring to.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet another Archeron sister,” he said with a soft smile, which made Elain lose her ability to speak for a good few moments, because she was finally able to take in that face that defied description. The sharp cheekbones and the mesmerizing amber and emerald eyes, almond-shaped and slanted hinted at a varied heritage, and unfairly, the man also possessed a perfect nose, and a full, sensuous mouth. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with skin of burnished bronze, which was so in contrast to his bright eyes and raven-black hair, cut in a fashionable undercut. The physique, as she already noted, quickly skimming over the body, matched the face.

“Yes, me too,” she said stupidly.

Graceful, like a courtier, he offered her his arm and said,

“Would you like me to show you around?”

She didn’t want to be impolite, though she suddenly felt sweaty and nervous, and completely out of her league. But she threaded her hand through his arm and lightly squeezed the firm, alarmingly thick bicep.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking him for, so she added, “yes, I’d love to see it.”

“Why haven’t we met?” he inquired, those green eyes watching her with such intensity that she felt almost undressed, bared under the gaze. It wasn’t unpleasant, because it wasn’t lascivious, and he didn’t strike her as someone who’d be disrespectful to women.

“I’ve been busy for the past half a year,” she explained.

“Doing what?”

They walked down the wide passage, past all the cars, which Azriel pointed out with a wave of his scarred hand, and dropped names like Pagani, BMW I8, Bugatti Divo, Bugatti Centodieci, Lamborghini Veneto, Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita and so forth. Elain might not have known a ton about cars, but she was not so unaware not to know that a Bugatti and a Lambo were expensive cars.

Cassian fell behind, gawking at the display.

“I was opening my own business,” Elain said, her head thrown back, looking at an entire toy racetrack mounted to the ceiling, with cars zooming by, and somehow, not falling on patrons’ heads.

“What sort of business?”

“Flowers,” she said absently, once they reached another space—a two story-restaurant, bar, and a patio outside as well.

“Flowers?”

“Oh, a flower shop,” she explained at last. Then muttered, awed, “this is really incredible!”

“A car enthusiast?” he smirked.

She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, her hand migrated from the crook of his arm to his hand, and now, they walked along the walls lined with Ferrari posters, memorabilia and expensive everything. Walking and holding hands.

“I wouldn’t call myself one,” she admitted, “but I find cars aesthetically pleasing…Never got to ride in anything fancier than a Mercedes or a Lexus,”

“Well, we should remedy that at once!” he decided easily and then said, “pick you up on Friday at seven?”

That sobered her up a bit and she turned to face him. They stopped at the long, chrome-lined bar, and he said, “An espresso?”

“Um,”

But before she could respond, he was behind the counter, playing with a very fancy coffee machine that required a PhD to operate with all the levers and hooks and buttons, and in a few minutes, he poured her a tiny cup of coffee, thick with natural foam, and heady with its enticing scent.

He chugged his own in one go and she followed him, gulping her espresso in two sips. It was better than anything she’d ever drunk in her life.

“Like a date?” she finally asked, truly confused by the offer.

“Would you like it to be a date?” he leaned on the bar, biceps flexing, his arms covered in tattoo sleeves that reached all the way to his fingers. They were quite beautiful, the tattoos, the placement and the design, and Elain recognized the style, since Cassian and Rhysand wore the same kinds of tattoos, if not so extensive.

“Did you draw these?” she asked bluntly, touching her finger to a thick snaking black line, which was shaded with cobalt.

He looked down, at her hand and his arm and nodded, following her finger with his eyes.

“I did. For the three of us. When we made Navy Seals,”

“You are a Seal, too?” she exclaimed.

He smiled and nodded, “Well, we all grew up in foster care—not all, Cass and I,”

“I heard,”

“Until Rhys’s parents adopted us. But we weren’t the…best of boys,” he chortled, “so to get our heads straight, we were sent to the Navy after school. We figured we’d only stay a bit, but we stayed for a while.”

“So, you are retired?”

“We are vets,”

“How old are you?” she blurted. Then blushed and said, “I am sorry. I am usually not so impolite,”

He laughed, “I figured. But that’s alright. I’ll tell you on Friday, though. If you don’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to her espresso cup, “but,”

“How about this—I take you on a drive in one of these fancy cars—and then you can brag to everyone that you’d driven in a,”

He paused and rubbed his chin,

“Any preference?”

“For what?”

“What car you’d like to go in?”

“I don’t know,”

“Throw something at me,” he urged, eyes glinting with feral delight.

Elain, blush deepening, finally said, “Do you have a Ferrari? I’ve always wanted to drive in a Ferrari.”

“Ahhh, a Ferrarista at heart!” he nodded with approval, folding his arms on his chest, “stick with the classic and the best. And yes, gorgeous, I do have a Ferrari or two.”

Gorgeous.

Azriel

The girl who’d arrived with Cassian, was not Nesta, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. The girl who’d arrived with Cassian was the most gorgeous creature that Azriel had ever seen. Gorgeous and completely unaware.

Women like her, if they were smart and cunning and ambitious, used their beauty for all things good and terrible. But this exquisite creature that Cassian was so blatantly hugging and teasing wasn’t one of those women. Azriel was all too familiar with the types—the maneaters, who hounded him like sharks. He was wealthy, and good-looking, and a decent person, if not exactly a saint. He hobnobbed with celebrities who came to order his cars, which he designed and outfitted based on their specifications and desires.

He was finnicky when it came to taste though. No matter how much rappers asked him to clad their Maybach in gold or some vapid Gucci print, no matter how many heiresses pouted and asked for a bubblegum or Barbie-pink Ferraris, he did not betray the essence and soul of the vehicle. Modify, define, sharpen, stylize—he did it all with precision and skill which was unparalleled. But Azriel Bagarat was known for rejecting even the juiciest of offers, if the request did not coincide with his aesthetic or the history of the car.

He was at his shop—that’s what he called it, though atelier sounded infinitely better and more expensive—that afternoon, knowing that Cassian was going to drop by and select a car for his grandiose proposal to Nesta. There was some concern that Cassian would not fit his 6”5 form into an Aston Martin or a Bentley, so they needed to make sure that the car was appropriate for the occasion and the occupant. Cass insisted on a British vehicle, feeling that Nesta would like something classic and timeless. So be it.

What Azriel did not expect to see that Tuesday afternoon was a girl--because he hesitated to call her a ‘woman’, since she looked so lovely and perfect and innocent--who took his breath away.

His breath had been taken away only once before, by Rhys’s cousin, who strolled like a ray of sunshine into their broken lives.

However, Morrigan chose Cassian. And then Cassian promptly impregnated her, causing a great discontent and strife between everyone. Morrigan, or rather Morgana d’Adda, though she anglicized her name, even if Morrigan d’Adda sounded funny, was just about disavowed by her family for tumbling, and being so stupid and blind as to get knocked up by a hulking nobody mulatto, as her father Keir called Cassian. Rather, sneered, at Cassian.

Even if Azriel didn’t impregnate anybody, he somehow got looped into the family bullshit and once he and Cassian turned 18, they were both shipped off to the navy. To the dismay of the entire Darling clan, Rhys followed them, tossing away his guaranteed admittance to Brown. An Ivy League school for rich stupid heirs. Only Rhys wasn’t stupid. Neither was Cassian a hulking nobody mulatto. And Azriel wasn’t just the ‘fucking weird kid, who might be a serial killer’. They served and they passed the insane Navy Seal training, and they proved themselves.

Nowadays, Cassian now ran security for the Darling conglomerate, while Rhys took over the reins when his father was killed in a car accident. Azriel found his own path, though the association with the Darling name certainly helped his exposure and in building relationships and meeting all the right people. And meeting all the women. The three brothers had gone through their share of wild times, but in the past 3 years, things began to calm down for them.

It began with Rhys meeting Feyre Archeron at an art gallery, where she was exhibiting some of her pieces. Azriel had tugged along with Rhys to see the exhibit, because Rhys was looking for some art for his new office, and he trusted Azriel’s taste and knowledge, and wanted a second pair of eyes.

Rhys followed Feyre like a dog throughout the evening—Azriel was there to witness the pathetic display—and then they ended up at a bar, doing shots and feeding Feyre virgin Cosmos, since she wasn’t even 21 yet. They went to some dance club, Azriel playing the third-wheel and ‘chaperone’, though by the end of the night, Rhys and Feyre disappeared together and weren’t heard from for the next three days.

… “What if he killed her?” proposed Cassian for 100th time, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Or what if she killed him?”

“I thought that I was the serial killer among the three of us,” drawled Azriel, sprawled on a sofa, watching a game. He wasn’t as concerned, having seen Rhys dripping with intense lust at the sight of the brown-haired teen. It was unusual, since at that time Rhys was almost 25, and Feyre only 19, and the three of them typically tried to avoid teenagers like the plague. But Rhysand Darling seemed genuinely enthralled.

“No, you are the guy with the sex dungeon,” corrected Cassian.

Azriel rolled his eyes, “serial killer with a sex dungeon, huh? Sounds like an interesting story. Alas, much as I’d like to, I don’t have a sex dungeon.”

“Aren’t you building one? In that new garage of yours?” Cassian shrugged.

“Only cars. No sex toys,” sighed Azriel, looking like that might have been an omission on his part.

“Gents, I think I am in love!” the door burst open and a wild-eyed Rhys appeared, his normally pristine hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed, wearing only a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Where the fuck were you for three days?” growled Cassian, showing considerable relief at the sight of his brother.

“Falling in love,” crooned Rhys, falling into a chair, a stupid, dazed look on his face.

“You look like Audrey Hepburn in ‘Sabrina’,” noted Azriel.

“I feel like Audrey Hepburn!” exclaimed Rhys. “She is perfect. Feyre is perfect.”

What the fuck? Mouthed Cassian in confusion.

“Feyre Darling,” whispered Rhys with delight, eyes closed, tasting the sound of the name on his tongue. “Feyre Archeron Darling. Or Feyre Darling Archeron?”

“You alright there, buddy?” Cassian frowned. “A little early to be talking last names?”

“She’ll be my wife,” announced Rhysand with his usually unwavering confidence.

And that was that.

Now, the ‘society wedding of the year’ was coming up in three months. Rhysand Darling and Feyre Archeron, the toast of the town, the power couple, the young and beautiful billionaires.

 Now, Azriel stood in front of the most stunning female he’d ever seen and for once, he felt like Rhys. His brain turned into a soupy mess, and he found himself tongue-tied and concentrating was suddenly difficult. He wanted to be a gracious host and a confident, formidable man, who had a reputation to uphold—though he wasn’t sure if Elain was aware of his reputation—but inside, he was a mess. All his insecurities, doubts and self-hate rose to the surface at once, and he hesitated to extend his hand in greeting to her. His mangled, horrible, revolting hand, which was sullied beyond its extensive scars. A hand that killed, and touched way too women, some of whom he probably shouldn’t have been touching at all.

“Beautiful,” she murmured softly, that gorgeous blush spreading over her rose-petal cheeks.

He was so taken aback by the comment, he was nearly flabbergasted when she didn’t pull away, didn’t frown or grimace in disgust, didn’t display any of the usual signs of revulsion that most women did when they saw his hands. Perhaps it was the Patek Phillipe, he tried to convince himself, but deep down he knew—she called his scars ‘beautiful’.

And then she took his arm, her hand strong, surprisingly calloused, if light, and small.

And from that moment on, Azriel became obsessed with that touch.

His body heated and as he led her to the bar, and showed her around his pride and joy, watching for the subtle reactions, for the gleam of wonder and appreciation in her eyes, he couldn’t release…wouldn’t release her hand from his. She asked questions, took in all the memorabilia and gawked at the cars, and then the guest area, and finally, when he sat her down at the bar and made her a coffee, he stepped closer. Trying not to scare her, or seem obnoxious, he couldn’t help invading her personal space, and stood next to her, pretending to take interest in his drink, while hoping that her arm would brush against his own. Skin to skin.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t shy away.

He didn’t expect himself to ask her on what amounted to a date, because he wasn’t even sure how dates worked. His usual ammo consisted of a brief introduction, an even quicker seduction and then a hook up. That’s how he liked it. He preferred no-strings-attached approach to his involvement with women, and it’s been working rather well for him. He never had to sleep with anyone in the same bed, he never had to make anyone breakfast, there was no room for idle chitchat, and usually no second or third dates. It was so easy.

This fucking girl, with her caramel-brown eyes, her golden-amber curls, her soft lips and that damn blush on her cheeks—she was driving him veritably insane with her unique mix of immaculate beauty and a friendly, almost naïve, strangely innocent disposition. And he wanted to go on a date with her. Without an ulterior motive, because at it stood right now, he didn’t care to even get her in bed. That would come later. He was absolutely determined to have this happen later. But…later.

Cassian

“Alrighty, I think I am going with the Bentley,” Cassian sidled to the bar, and interrupted.

If Azriel was annoyed, he didn’t show it.

Cassian spied them at last, making his way through the cavernous entrails of the garage, with all its gleaming cars, the beautiful patrons who were discussing options with no-less beautiful sales people,  and even on-premises tattoo shop, which specialized in Azriel’s sketches and catered to those who didn’t have money to actually outfit their Bugatti to their heart’s desire, but could at least claim that they got a Bagarat tattoo inked on their skin.

Elain and Azriel were standing side by side, somehow melding together nicely, her pretty dress and high-heeled sandals and piles of loose hair in drastic contrast with Azriel’s all-black ensemble, his massive height and the span of his shoulders. But she did not balk from him. Cassian also noticed that she didn’t react to the scars, which Azriel was very self-conscious about, and seemed genuinely interested in the garage.

It was inevitable that the two would eventually meet, especially with the wedding coming up and all the wedding related brouhaha. However, Cassian wanted to have the dibs on gloating down the line, and reminding the two of them, forever, about how it was he who introduced them. Yes, Azriel fucked a lot of models and rich girls, for whom he, strangely, was a riff on a ‘bit of rough’, while being hardly ‘rough’ at all. Azriel was elegant and possessed excellent taste in everything, and he probably had the best manners out of the lot of them. But the tattoos, the cars, the aura of brooding mystery about him, and his generally quiet ways were like honey to the throngs of women who lusted after him.  

About Azriel, Cassian had no doubts.

Cassian knew Azriel probably better than anyone alive, and even that wasn’t saying much, but he was very aware of Azriel’s ‘secret type’ of woman. Basically, it was Elain. Everything about Elain Azriel would like—of that Cassian was certain. Elain was the elusive ‘ideal woman’ of whom Azriel dreamt, but never actually pursued. Slightly unconventional, soft, kind, generous—lovely, would be a good word—Elain was everything that Azriel never had with any other women.

Cassian could already see the hunger and flicker of completely besotted adoration in Azriel’s normally cold eyes.

He was less certain about Elain, having never seen her with a boyfriend. When he had asked Nesta about Elain’s situation, Nesta shrugged and said that Elain was beautiful, but naïve, dreamy and rarely dated.

“A Bentley it is then,” Azriel turned around, though his elbow still touched Elain’s arm. “You’ll fit, big boy?”

Elain giggled.

“I am not Rowan,” Cassian muttered. “I am human sized.”

“Only just.”

“You are the same height,” Cassian reminded him coolly.

“I am a little more human-shaped too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, petal. While I love to stand here and listen to his insults, we gotta go.”

Elain’s face dropped into a sad frown only for a second, but she recovered immediately. Cassian noticed it, nevertheless. His petal of a girl didn’t want to leave his brother’s side.

“Bye Azriel,” she said, taking his hand in hers again, of her own volition, and squeezing it lightly. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. His fingers wrapped over her palm, and he said, “I’ll walk you two out.”

So, his brooding brother didn’t want to release the newfound petal of a girl.

How interesting.

Once they were in Cassian’s Jeep, Elain looked out the window, a dreamy look on her face.

“Oh-oh,” Cassian chuckled, as he navigated the narrow NYC streets.

“What?”

“I know that look,” he winked.

“What look?” she frowned.

“The ‘oh gods, Azriel is so handsome!’ look. Oh, he is so gorgeous look. Oh, he is so sexy look.”

“He is handsome,” she agreed blandly, knowing that arguing would be silly.

“I hope that you gave him your number,” he said. “Because if you didn’t, I will.”

“It’s none of your business,” she crossed her arms on her chest, and Cass howled loudly.

“You are welcome, by the way,”

“You are ridiculous,” she muttered. “I don’t know how Nesta tolerates you!”

“Oh, Nes tolerates me and then some,” and winked again.

Now

“My love, slow down a bit,” Elain requested, as the road zigzagged among rows of cypresses.

“I thought that you wanted to make it to Florence before traffic hit?” Azriel squeezed her fingers and brought her hand to his lips.

“Seeing that we are already running late, we might as well enjoy the drive,” she shrugged.

A honey-coloured strand of her hair fell out from under the gauzy wrap that she wore around her head a-la Grace Kelley.

“Good.”

“Good what?” she turned her face to him and knocked him out all over again. By the Mother she was superb in every way, and she was his. He couldn’t believe his absurd luck. Things like these didn’t happen to him. Elain was not meant to be his. Yet, here she was, his lovely gentle girl, who loved him with incomprehensible passion and devotion. His.

The hefty, borderline outlandish ring on her finger was proof of that.

He’d worked hard on that ring, designing it himself, wanting to incorporate everything that he loved about her and about the two of them into the design. The result was this stunner that glittered madly in the Italian sun, sitting on her manicured finger, the skin of her arm kissed by a golden tan.

His beautiful girl loved flowers, and she loved him, so her ring, in its platinum setting was a remarkable rose, reflecting Elain’s green thumb and life’s work. He selected the diamond himself, and the amethysts that comprised the petals, even the tiny onyx inserts, to signify him and the black ink of his tattoos. The ring was both extravagant—especially in carats—but intimate as well, a flower that spoke of his eternal love for this woman.

“I am going to take you somewhere, which I think you’d like,” he teased.

“Where?”

“How does lots of flowers sound?”

She smiled. 

Azriel

For gods’ sake, he was nervous. Azriel was not prone to nervousness or panic or discomfort, but this date, or whatever it was, filled him with dread.

He shouldn’t have asked her.

He was stupid and blinded by her beauty, by her deliciously voluptuous body, by the long, slender legs, by her shy, sweet smile. Those blushes. For the love of everything, those fine, adorable, sexy blushes.

She was part of the family network—both of his brothers were now in love with her sisters. It was cliché and unrealistic and unbelievable that she and he would end up in the same boat. Besides, he wasn’t so lucky as to have someone like her accept him. So, he was making a huge fucking mistake. If this was all going to go sour—which inevitably it would, of that he had no doubt—he’d mess up the delicate balance that existed between the Darling, Bagarat and Cavalhe brothers and the Archeron sisters. She’d reject him and then it would be awkward. Awkward for the upcoming wedding, in which he and Elain were supposed to couple up and be together in the wedding party. Rhys said, ‘fuck it’ and asked both him and Cassian to be best men, while Feyre had both of her sisters as maids-on-honour. There was no escaping it. Therefore, it would be awkward for the wedding, and then for Christmas and all the summer BBQs and pool parties and…well, he might just have to find excuses to never attend anything, ever.

But here he was, standing in front of an old-fashioned, cute corner storefront in the Village. Flower displays spilled on the sidewalk, and the windows, along with the marble edifice reminded him of Paris. This was exactly how he’d picture Elain’ store—slightly whimsical, elegant, classic, but modern. Au Nom de la Rose – The Name of the Rose—perfectly appropriate for Elain’s store name.

She wasn’t waiting for him outside, and he circled the block three times before, by some miracle, finding a parking space and leaving the silver Ferrari, and then made his way back to the store, arriving 4 minutes late, which was completely unacceptable. The store was technically closed at this hour, but he knocked and heard Elain’s voice telling him to come in. Some internal pressure inside of him released at the sound of her voice.

He entered and whistled,

“That’s a lot of flowers!”

Yep, definitely a glamourized 50’s Paris vibe.

“Azriel, I am so sorry, I am not ready,” Elain came from behind the counter, looking a bit frazzled.

“It’s alright I will wait,” he assured her, but she shook her head and said,

“No…I just received a huge order. An emergency order for an anniversary party. Azriel, it’s my biggest order ever!”

“That’s excellent!” he found himself feeling genuinely happy for her, if not for her concerned expression. “What’s up?”

“I…I,” she stumbled. “Feyre or Nesta would usually come and help out if I need them, but Feyre is in LA, and Nesta…” she swallowed, “Nesta is indisposed.”

Nes is on her period and is feeling like crap, read Cassian’s text from earlier today. I am going fishing. Care to join? Or are you busy romancing a certain Archeron sister?

Nesta was indisposed indeed, though Azriel didn’t feel like he needed to know the details.

“It’s a 25th Anniversary, and I have to make 25 bouquets and 15 centerpieces. The couple’s original florist fell through and they contacted me, in a panic, and I agreed,” she babbled, tugging on her long braid nervously. “And it’s for tomorrow,”

“Alright then,” he shrugged, “what’s the problem then? I am here.”

She looked up at him, her gaze both hopeful and confused.

“You? What are you going to do? I am sorry, Azriel, I am so sorry, we’d have to postpone,”

“We’d have to postpone our drive, but I am here. Use me.”

“Use you?”

“Use my body,” he chuckled, and she giggled an amused laugh.

“I appreciate the offer,” and when he thought that she’d continue rejecting his offer of help, she did the right thing and was a smart girl, nodding at last, and said, “will you truly help?”

“I am not a flower expert,”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she grinned.

He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and said, “Teach me, Archeron. I am an apt pupil.”

He was. Elain showed him model bouquets and thankfully, he wasn’t dumb or clumsy enough to screw them up, once he began copying the originals.

Night fell, and they ordered pizza and he went to get a bottle of wine from the store across the street.

Sitting on the floor of the store, surrounded by piles of flowers, vases, ribbons and twine, they ate pizza, laughing throughout the evening. She stretched her long, bare legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles, and he couldn’t get enough—the pretty toes, the pale golden skin and the sexy pink nail polish. He didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he snuck more than a few glances at her feet when she wasn’t looking.

It was well past midnight when they were finally done.

He stretched on the floor and tucked his arm behind his head.

She kneeled above him, at his side, and said, “Azriel, thank you. I can’t, honestly, thank you enough. You saved me. Maybe my business too!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he retorted gently, “but this was fun…and educational.”

“How can I repay you?” she asked.

“Well, well,” he drummed his fingers on the floor, pretending to think. “So many possibilities,”

At that, she flushed, and he licked his lips, loving the sight of that pink on her cheeks.

“Let’s make a bargain,” he proposed at last.

“A bargain?” her brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“For my exceptional assistance during your time of trouble and despair, you will agree to an outing with me, of my choosing. To do whatever I want.”

Elain stared at him, biting her plump lower lip.

“Are we going to do something bad?” she finally asked uncertainly.

He grinned and without thinking, cupped her cheek.

She didn’t recoil.

He drew his thumb over her soft skin and she leaned into his palm just a little bit. Gods it felt good. So good. So good to have her so near, so receptive, so unafraid. But he dropped his hand.

“You think I will take you to knock off a couple of 7-11s?”

“Well, if I am entering this death bargain with you, then who the hell knows?” she shrugged.

He laughed, “Death bargain? A little dramatic, are we?”

She was still sitting there, biting her lip, and all he wanted to do was drag his tongue over it. Kiss her large, brown eyes. Fist his hand around the thick mass of her hair, tilt her head and kiss her until she was breathless.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He never acted like this!

He never thought like this.

He was a rational, controlled, some said, cold man.

Not to say that he wasn’t able to find a woman immediately attractive, or want to fuck her, but this was different. This was unknown.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Fine?” he repeated, smiling.

“Don’t make me do anything bad,” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he promised. “I wouldn’t lead you astray. But,” he sat up, draping his forearms over his knees, “where do you live? Let me take you home,”

“I can take an Uber,”

He gave her an incredulous look and she nodded without further arguments.

“Where do you live?” he asked, once they were outside, somehow internally thrilled that perhaps, she’d invite him inside. He wouldn’t expect anything, obviously, but it would be nice see where she lived, what her private space looked like. So far, he couldn’t pinpoint her style with any accuracy, an interesting mixture of vintage and modern, of flowers and thorns.

“Just two blocks down,” she said, as she locked up the shop.

He gave her his arm, and it seemed like she almost expected it, because she immediately thrust her hand into the loop and he smiled softly.

The little white shorts and the flowery top did things to him, and he was glad to walk side by side, so to prevent himself from staring at her long legs and her neat, lush ass. He was already a mess over her legs, over her bending and squatting in front of him for the past four-five hours.

It was dark and quiet on the street, and they walked in a comfortable silence, each thinking of something of their own.

And then,

Elain sprawled face down on the pavement.

She cried out, landing on her knees on the asphalt, just barely having the time to brace herself on her hand, and ripping the skin of her palm.

Azriel was instantly on his knees in front of her.

Tears glistened in her eyes. Possibly from pain, because as she flipped on her butt, they saw that her knees were torn and bleeding, as was her palm, or maybe from shock, as well as embarrassment.

“Shhh,” he cooed gently to her, “are you okay?”

She shook her head. A lonely tear spilled from her eyes.

“Tissues?” he asked quickly, surveying the damage. Bruises were already blossoming on her scuffed kneecaps, all around the wounds.

She wordlessly handed him her bag, allowing him to rummage through it and he found a packet of old tissues, which he gingerly pressed to her bleeding knees.

“My ankle hurts,” she muttered, reaching down to inspect it.

“Let me,” he took her legs and looked over her ankle. She glared questioningly at him, still in some sort of stupor, not understanding what had occurred, and why she was now sitting on the ground, bleeding.

“You broke your heel,” he nodded to her foot and she glanced down, finally realizing that her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. The impact was so strong, it actually fully detached from the sole of the shoe.

“I am sorry,” she mumbled.

“You should be,” he chuckled, “you gave me quite a scare. I thought you were shot; you went down so quickly!”

She pushed at his arm, half laughing, and have crying.

“Stop making me laugh!” she ordered, sniffling and giggling. “Auuu, it hurts...”

He was lightly pressing on her ankle, and then said, “it’s just twisted. You’ll need ice, but it should be okay…”

“Ok, Doctor Azriel,” she even rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed, flicking her nose.

“I am trained on how to treat combat wounds and catastrophic field injuries, I’ll have you know,” he said and then gave her his hand. “On your feet, soldier! Let me see if you can stand.”

Moaning and groaning, she managed to stand up, but putting any weight on her foot caused a yelp to escape her lips.

“Alright, come on now,” he stepped and opened his arms, “jump in.”

“Jump in where?”

“Jump into my arms, of course.”

“What are you planning to do? Swing me around?”

“I could swing you around, but I was planning on carrying you home, and then making you an ice pack and disinfecting all your cuts.”

Without waiting for her to decide, he scooped her off the ground and she gasped, and he wasn’t sure what the little huff meant.

“But it’s like two blocks!” she protested feebly, and unconvincingly, “I am heavy.”

“Ooohhh,” he groaned dramatically, hefting her to his chest, as they started off. “Sooo, so heavy!”

“I am the fattest of my sisters,” she argued, and even in the darkness he saw that she was blushing realizing how silly her comment was.

“Well, considering that Nesta is like 90 lbs. and Feyre 110 lbs., that’s not saying much,” he assured her.

She was soft and warm in his arms, and when, without prompting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, he felt utterly at peace. Because the pieces of them fit. She fit him.

Blood still dripping, and her arms thrown over his neck, Azriel walked steadily, cradling her to his chest, until they finally reached a pre-War building, and she said, “There is no elevator.”

“Don’t tell me you are on the 6th floor!” he laughed, looking up.

“The third.”

“Guess I will have to haul the fattest of the Archeron sisters to the 3rd floor!” he sighed, and she smacked his arm, protesting,

“You can’t say that!”

He was laughing and she began to laugh as well.

“You said it first,” he reminded her.

 Her apartment was small, but she’d arranged the furniture in such a way that everything seemed more spacious, and orderly, without unnecessary frills. Mostly grays, turquoise, cobalt and creamy-white. For some reason, he thought that there would be much more pink and general fluff. This though, this he liked.

He sat her down on the sofa and went to the bathroom to find bandages and plasters and other items. She called out from her spot, telling him where to find things and he finally emerged and began working on all her wounds.

“Haven’t lost a soldier yet,” he told her with a chuckle. He kneeled in front of her, and his touch was firm, but surprisingly gentle, as he thoroughly washed every scuff and tear, and then disinfected and decided what needed bandages and what didn’t.

Elain remained mostly silent throughout the procedure, watching him from under her lashes.

“You are nice,” she said suddenly.

He looked at her and smirked.

“Not with anyone.”

“Everyone just says how handsome you are,” she lay her head on the back cushion, watching him. He gave her a painkiller, and it was making her drowsy. It was also late. She rarely stayed up this late. “But you are also very nice,” she added.

Elain

She woke up that morning, and was struck by the unfamiliar environment. And pain.

Her knees ached and screamed and hurt, as did her palm.

Light poured through the windows; the curtains still open.

She found herself on her sofa, haphazardly covered by a throw, and with her legs resting on Azriel’s lap.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He was here. With her.

He never left after last night’s debacle.

She was a clumsy cow, as always, but the incident was unusually embarrassing, even for her. She always spilled or dropped stuff on herself, tripped, stumbled, and fell on her ass at inopportune times, but last night…By the Mother!

The man was gosh darn saint. Not only did she screw up their evening plans, made him work and make bouquets with her, which, probably wasn’t the most exciting thing for him to spend the evening on, but she also almost ate the pavement, and then he carried her for half a mile! And cared for her when they came here. And spent, what must have been a horribly uncomfortable night in a half-seated position, with her, no doubt, pushing at him with her feet.

Yep, she was never going to see him again.

Good going, Elain. Fine job you did of this ‘relationship’. Now, for the rest of her life, she’d be forced to see him at family gatherings, probably with some stunning model of a wife, and he’d always remember her as the girl who tore her heel on the pavement.

She wanted to cry.

Not that she ever, even for a second, believed that this would go anywhere. Her and Azriel. That wasn’t possible. Things like these didn’t happen to her. She was strange and solitary and even if others claimed that she was pretty, going so far as to call her ‘beautiful’, she never felt like that. When Nesta got mad at her, she’d call her a ‘petty idiot’ and Elain felt like that more frequently than she cared to admit. And Azriel…he was cut from a different cloth. He was…

She looked at his face, still perfect, but ever so slightly relaxed and softened in sleep, his eyelids heavy and enviably long, thick lashes fanned over his golden-brown cheeks. He was funny, with a quick, dry sense of humour, intelligent and interesting, and when they talked last night, she couldn’t get enough! He told her fascinating stories from his time in the Navy, about his dream, which resulted in the creation of his beloved garage. It took him three years to open the place—conceptualize what he wanted, how to deliver it, the items to showcase. The result was not just the ‘garage’, but also the popular bar, and recently, a restaurant as well.

Scarred fingers touched her hand and he opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, squinting at her. “How are you? How’s the pain?”

“Azriel,” she murmured, not even knowing how to thank him, but she attempted, “I want to,”

“Pancakes?” he asked eagerly.

She glanced at him with incomprehension.

“May I make you, or us, pancakes?” he proposed. “I’ve been sort of thinking about this all night. How I’d like to make you pancakes,”

“I want to thank,”

He lifted his finger and shook his head,

“No, no. My Italian mother would tell you that you should never thank anyone for providing medical help,”

“Why?”

“According to my psychotically superstitious Italian side of the family, the remedy or healing won’t take, if you offer thanks. Imagine, I was forbidden from ever saying ‘thank you’ to a doctor,”

She chuckled.

“So, you are Italian?”

“Mom’s side is half Neapolitan and half from Lazio—near Rome.”

He sat up and rolled his neck.

“Can I at least say that I am sorry that you had to be so uncomfortable and sleep on the couch?” she asked.

“It’s alright. Not the best night I’ve ever had, but not the worst one either. The company was nice too,” and he patted her legs.

A tiny flare of hope lit in her belly.

But she didn’t allow herself to have it take root.

Maybe not until he gathered her legs together on his lap and drew his fingers up and down her calf.

“But really, how is the pain?” he asked at last, watching her with his intense, warm eyes. The eyes didn’t warm frequently, it seemed, but when they looked at her—

He was different somehow.

Kind. Approachable.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand, not wanting to burden him any longer with her dumb injuries.

Those long, scarred fingers glided over her skin, and a small smirk touched his lips, “May I kiss it better?”

She blinked at him.

“I hear that I am very good at making pain go away,” he added proudly, and then, his lips descended on her scuffed and bruised knees. She kissed each one, tenderly, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, and pressed his mouth to the inside of her palm. Her breath hitched and she stared at him, wide-eyed, as he watched her, unblinking, gaging every minute reaction. He kissed her hand, inside and then out, and then kissed the other, even though it wasn’t injured, and then returned to her knees and kissed them again.

At last, “Better?” he asked.

She only mooed incoherently.

…Azriel, by the stove, flipping pancakes was the sexiest thing Elain had ever seen in her life.

Clad in dark slacks, in his white shirt from last night, with sleeves rolled up and the tattoo sleeves on full display, he stood in her kitchen, barefoot and flipped pancakes like a pro.

“You cook too?” she asked incredulously.

He laughed.

“Too? In addition to what?”

“I don’t know,” she was still perched on the sofa, like an invalid, but after she washed her face and brushed her hair, he ordered her to sit and not make unnecessary moves. “Everything?”

“My repertoire is limited, when it comes to the kitchen, but what I know how to make, I make well. Cassian is a better cook.”

“Cass?” she smiled.

“Nesta is lucky to have him,” Azriel added, somewhat wistfully.

Elain looked at him and nodded. “I think so too.”

“He is a good man. Maybe the best man I’ve ever known. Where my own family failed, he stepped in, though he is a year younger than me. But he taught me…how to be. Accepted me. Unconditionally. Taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, how to fight.”

“And you?”

“I? I helped him with his reading,” Azriel rubbed his chin, his stance a little tense.

She didn’t say anything, waiting to see if he felt like sharing more.

“It was neglected,” he said at last. “His reading and writing. So, we sat together, late at night, at our foster parents’ house and read.”

He then asked, “coffee?”

The moment of reminiscing was over, and Elain did not press.

She nodded to one of the cupboards and he pulled out a tub of coffee and grimaced.

“This is what you drink?”

“Hey, it’s good coffee! I buy it at Trader Joe’s!” she laughed defensively.

“Baby, we are drinking Italian coffee in this house,” he decided, and there was no arguing with that logic.

 That’s how Elain became Azriel’s ‘baby’.

In their house, they always drank Italian coffee.

 Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Thanks Nu,” Azriel greeted a lanky, very thin, very tall girl, who handed him two packages and then winked at him and disappeared wordlessly.

“My assistant, Nuala,” he explained, showing Elain two packages of Lavazza coffee. “This will do for now.”

Elain hobbled to the small butcher block island that she’d restored from a console that she found at a flea market. “You text someone and they just appear?”

He grinned and shrugged innocently.

“I know a guy.”

“Of course you do. Are you in the mafia?”

“First of all, rude,” he placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her and then poured her coffee, “second of all, I just know a guy.”

“Who knows where to buy Lavazza on a Saturday morning?” she wondered, tucking into the pancakes.

“I have a network of spies,” he winked at her.

She sipped on the coffee, perhaps not as good a cup as he’d made her at his garage, but glorious nevertheless. “Are you in the CIA?”

“Not in the mafia or the CIA. Just a lowly car guy.”

“Uh-uh.”

They toasted with their coffee cups and Azriel said, “not bad for a first date. Blood and flowers. Very romantic.”

It was that morning, that sunny Saturday morning, over a plate of pancakes and some Italian coffee that Elain Archeron fell in love.

She fell in love completely.

Utterly.

Irreversibly.

And forever.

Now

Azriel turned off to some side road and how he knew where to go, Elain had no idea, but she just enjoyed the scents and warmth of the day.

“You know,” she laughed. “We are literally under the Tuscan sun right now!”

“All your dreams are coming true,” he ran a loving hand over her bare arm and she tore her gaze from the scenery around her.

“My dreams came true when I met you,” she confessed. “That was the day.”

“So easily impressed!” he teased, but she saw that her words touched something in him. His face softened with happiness.

“Az, slow down,” she whispered, an almost painful pull to kiss him spreading over her. “I want to kiss you.”

He looked at her, eyes hidden behind his Aviator shades, but slowed down and she leaned towards him and planted her mouth on his cheek.

“Lips,” she murmured with audible desperation.

“Baby, I don’t want to bust up this nice Ferrari,” he laughed. “And you, who is riding in it.”

Pouting, she ordered, “Then pull over so I can kiss you!”

He laughed louder, throwing his head back, his gorgeous tanned neck annoyingly desirable.

She wanted to bite his vein, lick the salty skin of his neck, and then sink her teeth into his shoulder. Elain was a biter. And a scratcher. Good thing that Azriel was a benevolent lover, who didn’t care if she left his body marked with her love, and didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he encouraged it.

His heavy brown hand lay on her knee, under the hem of her summer dress and he said,

“Why don’t I do something nice for you… then you can kiss me…”

“But I want to kiss you now,” she frowned playfully.

His hand slid a little higher, up her bare thigh, and he pressed his scarred palm into her thin, tender skin, rubbing slowly, indulgently. This was just as much for her as it was for him.

She threw her head into the back of the seat, eyes closed.

Until she yelped softly, when his wicked hand slipped higher and higher, pushing her dress up as well.

“Azriel Bagarat,” she murmured, “what am I going to do with you? And your love for public nudity and lovemaking…”

He shrugged oh so innocently and said, “firstly, it’s Archeron to you, and,”

“Not just yet,” she wiggled her ring-clad hand in front of him, “not until we got the paper and all, to make us official,”

They rolled their eyes at the same time and then laughed.

“And secondly, who can blame me?” he leaned and kissed her shoulder. “You are very hot. And I sort of want to fuck you all the time.”

His long, very experienced fingers made their way even higher, until he drew them along the cotton of her underwear, lightly pressing into the cleft, teasing ever so lightly. She shifted against the fingertips, her thighs falling apart in silent encouragement.

Elain was a giving and a receptive lover, innately knowing what he wanted and accommodating both of their needs thoughtfully, and easily.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmured.

“To kiss you,” she insisted stubbornly.

He huffed his amusement, and then pushed his finger deeper, firmer against the cotton, whispering,

“How about this?”

“This is nice, I suppose,”

“Only nice?” he withdrew his finger in warning and she grabbed his wrist, and thrust it back in place.

“Maybe a little better than ‘nice’, huh?” he teased.

“A little,” she agreed, gasping when he cupped her fully, swiping his heel of his palm against the length of her folds, feeling the dampness against his skin. Bold, as he always was, he moved the strip of cotton to the side, and hiked up her dress ever higher, exposing her to his exploration.

He snuck a glance at her perfectly peachy, pink pussy, bare and succulent, like a ripe fruit dripping with its sweet juices.

He groaned and then hissed, “I am stopping, right now. I want you coming on my tongue in the next four minutes,”

“So confident, ombre?”

She took to calling him ombre or ‘shadow’, when, early in their relationship, he kept materializing in front of her out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows. He laughed, but didn’t mind the endearment. What’s more, it became a private thing between the two of them—he’d call her ‘rose’ and she’d call him ‘ombre’. It wasn’t nauseatingly sugary sweet and could be used in public without making people gag. Unlike, for example, the Darlings, who, for whatever reason called each other ‘my darkness’. Or Cassian, who sometimes went with ‘schmoopie’, braving Nesta’s wrath.

Azriel laughed, while incessantly dragging his finger back and forth over the wet slit, without doing much else, and making her gasp and squirm.

“That I can make you come on my tongue in 4 minutes? Fuck yeah! Want me to prove it?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she shook her head, “you don’t get to just do whatever the hell you want, when you want it. If I don’t get my kiss, you don’t get to,”

“What? Lick your pussy? I feel like the punishment is unreasonable,” he protested.

She gave him a sultry look, a look that only he was privy to, and then murmured, spreading her legs a little wider for him,

“Maybe I want to lick something of yours?” she proposed, her voice husky, pouring like honey over his ear.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” he choked out, finally parting the soft cushions of her folds and dragging his knuckles over the wet spread of her. The intoxicating scent of her arousal, mixed with the Italian sunshine and the smell of grass, flowers and cypresses was so heady, he almost swerved, stopping only quick enough to grip the steering wheel tightly in his left hand.

Gods, if he was going to make it to their next destination, he would be impressed with himself. But it was close.

Azriel

Elain loved getting fingered. That was the first thing he learned about her sexually—kissing and fingering.

In the privacy of their world, he fingered her constantly.

It was almost an obligation on his part by now, to have her wake up, tucked into his side, while gently, but thoroughly pumping her soft, indescribably tight center. No matter how many times he’d been inside of her, she remained tight, as tight as the first time. That was a blessing, but a curse as well, for all he could typically think about throughout the day, was sinking into that glorious tightness.

When she was finally semi-awake, she rolled on her back and spread her legs in front of him, so he could finger her in earnest. Two fingers first, nice and deep inside of her, as he knelt in front of her and watched her come undone before him. And then, there was always a moment when her eyes flew open, and her back arched, and he slipped the third one in. The plush, warm walls of her sex stretched and pulled to accommodate him, but he went slow and deep, only grazing the sensitive spot in her, making her moan low and begging, the pressure of his hand steady and firm.

She cried and cried into the pillow, head thrown back in utter extasy, her hair a tangled halo about her. She wasn’t permitted to move her hips, his only order in that early-morning game of theirs, therefore she was wholly dependent on him for her pleasure. If she ever did begin a sensual undulation of her hips around his hand, he’d allow her to continue for a few moments, aware that she was lost in her own pleasure, before cruelly yanking his hand out of her.

“Was my girl allowed to do that?” he’d ask simply, and amidst her disappointed panting, her pleading for more, her sweet, innocent “sorry. I am sorry,” she’d beg him to fill her again.

Then she’d lay still, eyes wide and pleading, her little opening vibrating at the loss, before he placed her feet on his shoulders and thrust in her anew. This time, his scarred, rough, brown, inked fingers disappeared in her completely. She buckled and let out a wild moan that reverberated from the very depth of her, because all four fingers were inside, and his thumb finally, finally began a gorgeously slow torment around her clit. She just lay there, tense and unmoving, watching him, the slurping, obscene sounds of his hand inside of her filling the sleepy morning air around them.

Elain came quietly. She moaned and twisted and gasped as he rubbed her clit, but when the waves finally descended upon her, when he felt the tight, silky flesh grip and pump all four of his fingers, which were now pressing up into her perfect spot, the exhale was soft and intimate. Only for him.

Now

“Don’t wreck the car,” Elain muttered, eyes barely open.

“Will this be the second one?” Azriel asked, while Elain wrapped her hand around his wrist and forcefully jammed his hand inside of her.

Four.

Four orgasms daily. That was his promise.

He’d provide her with at least four daily orgasms. So far, he typically exceeded expectations. It wasn’t particularly difficult, because he often played with her at odd times—when they were watching TV, he’d slip a finger onto her clitty and rub her slowly and leisurely, until she melted from the stimulation. She enjoyed it when he bent her over counters or sinks, and sunk his fingers deep and hard into her perpetually ready hole.

Elain, to his complete delight and fascination, was always just a bit aroused. Always, always just a bit wet, just a little damp for him. He’d make an unscheduled stop at her shop and if it was empty, he’d step behind the counter with her, and soon, she’d be splayed over the counter, his hand between her legs. Yes, they’ve been almost caught plenty of times, but Azriel had the ability to disappear into shadows as soon as he sensed someone coming. Sometimes, when someone would walk in the store, Azriel even pretended that he was a customer, buying flowers, watching her patiently, while she got his bouquet ready for him. Never mind that his hand might have been soaked with her slick, or that he smirked, watching her press her thighs together, while she wrapped the flowers, as she avoided eye contact with him, and handed him the bouquet which he’d inevitably bring home for her.

When he was around her, she jokingly complained that she was of constant need for him, and it was his very enviable and pleasant task to soothe the ache inside of her.

 Azriel

Their friends, family, found their relationship perplexing. But Elain kept her sisters firmly at an arm’s length when it came to the discussion of their sex life. No matter how they tried to pry, she gently, but firmly rebuffed them. Nesta complained and said that they were too obsessed with each other. That Elain was too in love and that Azriel was too dependent on Elain’s love for this to be normal. Elain only shrugged and didn’t argue.

 “It’s not normal!” seethed Nesta, watching Elain and Azriel wrapped around each other on the dance floor, Elain’s body shimmying and swaying around her, arms raised in the air, her hips swooshing to the beat, bumping into his pelvis.

“You think they are gonna do it right on the dancefloor?” Cassian contemplated quietly, not sure if this was outside the realm of possibilities.

“He would!” she spat and gulped down her Aperol spritz aggressively. “I am surprised he is not bending her over…more surprised she isn’t agreeing!”

“They never argue,” Cassian nodded.

“They never—never—argue. It’s not normal!”

The way Cassian saw it, as long as the two were happy, he had no right to judge.

Nesta was a hot pepper. Feyre, an apple—solid, tasty, dependable. Elain—whipped cream—a delicious topping over anything, but especially Azriel.

 Nevertheless, the word got around.

One day, Azriel, Rowan and Cassian were sitting in Elain’s flower shop, toiling diligently over a huge order of flowers.

They wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not to each other, or their women, but they quite enjoyed hiding in that flower shop and arranging flowers. They claimed that they were doing it for Elain’s sake, to help her out, so she didn’t have to hire additional help just yet, but,

Well, they liked it.

At first, Elain wasn’t sure if Cassian was cut out for the task, because the very first try was a little rough.

“Cass, these are not your enemies that you are about to smite,” Elain instructed gently, prying his fingers from the stems of irises, which he was clutching like he was about to throw a lance.

“Pfff, you look like you are about to choke a chicken,” Nesta teased. And promptly realised her mistake, biting her lip.

Cassian cocked his brow and murmured seductively,

“What chicken am I choking, sweetheart? My own,”

“Oh no,” Elain stepped in between them, hands on her hips. “No. No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Lainey, don’t allow Cass to choke his chicken in front of us,” begged Azriel, working quickly and deftly, and soliciting an envious look from Cassian, whose flowers were in complete disarray, compared to Azriel’s neat piles and methodical assembly line.

“Yes, no one is choking chickens, penises or each other in here,” ordered Elain sternly, while Nesta and Azriel were laughing silently.

“Hehe,” smirked Cassian, “Elain said ‘penis’!”

“Take your dirty talk and deeds,”

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap, dirty deeds done dirt cheap

Cassian began rocking to his own singing, imitating the gravel of Brian Johnson’s voice rather successfully, headbanging over his babybreath, bluebells and irises.

Chicken choking forgotten for a moment.

 As Cassian fussed over a vase, working on each stem and arranging them just so, wearing a little white apron no less, he asked casually, “So, brother, four?”

Azriel was in his own headspace, and he didn’t even hear Cassian, as he was busy with his own flower arrangement.

There was, expectedly, a competition going on—who’d complete the most arrangements in an hour. Rowan, a veritable giant, and Cassian’s best friend, also wore an apron, but a long one, like a butcher, and was significantly ahead of the pack. That bothered Azriel more than he cared to admit. So, he was re-strategizing his strategy.

“Four what?” Rowan inquired, not taking his eyes off the flowers, working like a machine.

“Ask Az here,” Cassian suggested. He was catching up to Azriel with an alarming speed.

Azriel had never lost, so far. He wasn’t going to lose today.

“Stop speaking in riddles. What are you talking about?”

“Word on the street is that our Az here provides the flower girl with a minimum of four orgasms on the daily,”

Azriel started and finally tore his eyes from the flowers.

Both Rowan and Cassian were watching him, smirking.

“I guess it’s true then,”

“Fuck off.”

“If that’s true,” Rowan drawled, “good for you, man. Though you are putting us to shame with this ridiculous offer of yours. How do you keep up?”

“Easily,” Azriel shrugged. “But it’s freaking me out that you two are talking about my sex life so casually.”

“But fucking four? Daily?” repeated Cassian, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Elain, man,” Rowan rubbed the back of his head, mussing his silver hair, “who would’ve thought?”

Cassian nodded, “No offense, brother, but Elain doesn’t strike anyone as particularly adventurous in the bedroom,”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Azriel said simply.

“Very beautiful,” offered Rowan pacifically, “but…you know…Kind of like Elide, I guess. You wouldn’t know it, looking at her,”

Cassian was nodding. “Yeah, she looks like she eats macaroons and reads Jane Austen,”

“Macarons,” said Azriel.

“What?”

“It’s macaron. Not macaroon.”

“What the hell is the difference?”

“One is a French biscuit, made with almond flour and filled with a creamy filling. The other, is a coconut concoction that one usually eats at Passover.”

Rowan was chuckling. Cassian was shaking his head, grunting, “you would know. So, does she? Eat maca--,”

“No, she doesn’t even like macarons. And she doesn’t read Jane Austen. She reads espionage novels. She likes Daniel Silva. Any more stupid questions?”

Elide. Of course. He should’ve guessed.

Elain and Elide met through Rowan and it was friendship at first sight.

Azriel couldn’t argue—the two women were similar in many ways. Both were on a quiet side, polite, well-mannered. Elain—a ray of sunshine, tall, slender and curvaceous, smiling and affable, with piles of golden-brown locks and warm brown eyes. Elide—the opposite—small, pale, with perfectly straight, silky black hair and dark, midnight eyes. Both—crafty in the ways of the world, charming, when needed, capable of getting into everyone’s good graces, and therefore, getting what they wanted.

“No, no more stupid questions,” said Cassian. “Just don’t know how you two grumps attracted such lively girls,”

“Lorcan and I aren’t ‘grumps’. We just talk when we need to and don’t have the need for instant gratification or to be the center of attention. Something I can’t say about you,”

“It’s not about me,” Cassian protested, but Azriel stopped him, by raising his finger,

 “Now, if you are not going to shut the fuck up about my woman and me, I will spread a rumour amongst your women, that it’s not four, but six. Daily. Let’s see how you measure up then.”

Silence fell.

Azriel won.

His 36th win.

 Now

 “Yes, the second,” Elain nodded with a satisfied smile.

 Azriel

 Naturally, today, he woke her up properly, as he always did.

They stayed in an adorable little villa, near Montepulciano. It was everything a Tuscan villa was supposed to be…

including the dust that settled in its 800-year-old walls. And Elain coughed and coughed and coughed, surprisingly not coughing up a lung.

“We can’t stay here,” Azriel said, frowning.

“Where are going to go? We are in the middle of Tuscany and it’s 10 pm,” she reminded him.

Ever resourceful, he dragged the mattress off the antique bed and plopped it down on the floor of their small balcony.

“We sleep here. Under the night Tuscan sky.”

It was a lovely, if chilly night, and Elain would’ve enjoyed it if she didn’t fall asleep almost immediately and slept through the night.

She was still asleep, when the birds began their morning song and Azriel positioned her on her hands and knees, and carefully removed her nightgown, baring her to the dry, cool morning air.

“Someone will see us,” she murmured sleepily.

She tucked her hands under her cheek, and followed the direction of Azriel’s hand on her hip, rising her butt high up, and arching her back for him.

Azriel loved having sex out in the open. Especially if she was completely naked. He wasn’t overt about it, but the thrill of being found out, the titillating desire to be watched was always present. She knew it. She indulged his fantasies.

“I don’t think anyone would mind watching you,” he whispered hotly in her ear and lightly bit the apple of her cheek. “But it’s also like 4:15 in the morning. So maybe they are still sleeping.”

He settled behind her and she felt his hands on her back, smoothing over the sharp cut of her tight waist and then the soft curve of her hips.

“Spread your legs for me, my love, I want to play with you a little bit,” he guided her, and she followed his direction, squatting inelegantly on her knees, thighs wide apart for him. He cupped her fully in his palm and then pinched her clit, hard, twisting it and rubbing it between his two fingers, until she bit her forearm, trying to stifle her cries of instant pleasure.  He pinched again, then again, rubbing tightly, while he bit her buttock playfully, but hard enough to leave a pink mark.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, when he nibbled on her flesh again, tugging on the swollen clit with relentless dedication. She managed to twist enough to kiss his knee and whispered, eyes still closed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her wet, stretched opening, dragging his tongue around and around the rim, “and you are so nice and wet for me in the morning. My good girl, what do you want?”

“Only you,” she vowed. “Only you, my Az.”

“Let’s fill your pretty little hole then,” he licked on it again, and then slid one strong, long finger inside. As he began to pump her slowly, he proposed, “When I fill you with my cock later on,”

“Uh oh,” she moaned dreamily, smiling a loving smile, enjoying his finger to the fullest.

“I think I’d like to add a finger or two as well. What do you think?”

“I’d like that, I think,” she complied easily.

Elain was not a particularly imaginative lover, but Azriel was the opposite—he had too much imagination when it came to everything. Especially Elain, and what he liked to do with her sexually. What was absolutely fantastic, and he thanked all the gods for this phenomenon, was that Elain was willing to try anything. She was an absolutely willing and eager lover, who learned from him and learned of her body with readiness and joy. He dominated her completely, but that was the nature of their relationship, and they easily fell into their roles, from the very beginning. She was submissive, loved praise, and loved being guided and told what to do. More than anything else, she loved pleasing him. There was never any pull and push, no competition, no power struggles. Elain was made for him, created and carved from something that was innately his, whether it was his body or his mind, and they lived and loved harmoniously. He complimented her perfectly: her temperament, her needs, her wants. He treated her with admiration, gentleness, adoration and respect, and while his own expectations were high, she met them all with ease. She took control when she needed to. Received what she wanted from him, however she needed to. And he gave and gave.

Some, or many, called them soulmates.

Perhaps that’s what they were. Or maybe, they were even more than that.

Azriel stretched his legs on either side of her curved body and then added another finger inside of her sopping, slippery opening, reaching deep into her and pumping her firmly.

“Auuuu, babe, it’s good…” she squealed, “it’s so good.”

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled her buttocks apart with his available hand and swept his tongue over the tiny opening, causing her to seize with surprise and pleasure. Instinctively, she moved her hips against his tongue, pushing her backside into his lips. He licked the little hole in earnest, dragging his tongue back and forth between both of her openings, making her tremble and shudder every time his tongue reached one or the other.

As he sat to the task of licking and sucking her tight hole, he thrust a third finger into her dripping passage, feeling her shift against his face to accommodate the stretch. It was a lot, and she whimpered and moaned from the pressure, but he knew that she could take four, though he wasn’t in a hurry, and worked her diligently and steadily, his tongue laving the other hole just as eagerly.

She was shaking between his legs, her toes curling beneath her, rapid pants escaping into the morning mists, her hair draping the tiled floor in front of her, even spilling through the balcony rails.

Somewhere they heard sheep bleating and Elain laughed softly, before arching her back even further, not caring how splayed she looked. There wasn’t a part of her that he hasn’t seen, hasn’t touched or licked or kissed, not an inch of her that wasn’t caressed by his rough hands, not an orifice that he hasn’t penetrated with his magnificent cock. He’d burrowed inside of her so deeply, so wholly, he possessed all of her and she knew what it’s like to truly be part of another person, to be loved with egregious passion.

He fed another finger inside of her and she cried out, trembling and grunting, as she grabbed and squeezed his foot with mighty strength.

He tore his lips away from her bottom and grinned,

“Love, when you are in labour with our baby, I am fully prepared for the fact that you will break my fingers, maybe even my hand.”

“I am sorry,” she laughed, and kissed his foot, dragging her tongue over his toes.

There wasn’t a part of him that she did not love, did not worship with everything she had. No part of his body remained un-kissed, un-touched, un-caressed. A lazy Sunday, especially if the weather was crap and they had no plans to go out, was her favourite time—she could spend the day loving her Azriel. On those days, she pleasured him. And if she spent hours with his cock buried in her throat, or his balls between her lips, or her tongue in his ass, she was only too happy.

The tips of his fingers crawled into that hidden spot inside of her, curling just so, so he could massage and rub her into a frenzy. He stilled for a moment, to allow her to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, as she bit his foot, trying to stifle her screams. She leaked slowly over his hand, as most of it was situated in her clutching, hungry tightness.

“Very good, my baby,” he praised, kissing her buttocks and then giving her anus a few approving licks, “taking all four inside of you,”

“Oh my god, oh,” she groaned, “it’s so tight…Az, my love, I am so full,”

“I know, love,” he coaxed evenly, his hand beginning a steady, firm barrage of deep, pounding thrusts, “but it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeess,” she only managed, voice thin, pleading. She could barely hold herself up, so he wrapped his arm around her hips, keeping her ass up. She grabbed the balcony wrought-iron spindles, squeezing them tightly, forehead pressed into the mattress, as he pumped her harshly, keeping her on the verge of constant climax, but pulling back just so, for her to moan and beg him in a never ending litany.

“Baby, you want to come?” he teased, still busy with her butthole, which softened under his furious sucking and if they had more time and privacy, Elain would be ready to take him anally soon enough.

“Yes,” she grunted, “yes,”

“Ask nicely, and maybe,”

“Ugh, you are such a horrible tease,” she complained, biting his foot in spite, and he laughed, before slapping her firm, soft buttock.

“Biting a person who is making you come so nicely?” he slapped her again, and she yelped with pleasure, wiggling her ass, silently asking for more.

The walls of her passage clenched desperately over his fingers, and she made a choking, frantic sound in her chest, now beyond pleading or even moaning. He sucked, and slapped, and bit, and thrust, pumping her open, the sounds of the wet and the skin inside of her completely obscene, and music to both of their ears.

Azriel noticed a man, either a delivery guy or a grounds keeper, watching them wide eyed and shocked from a distance. Probably not something he expected to see at 4:40 in the morning. Not that he made a move to leave.

Azriel opted not to alarm Elain, who was coming violently on his hand, her body trembling and jerking, her beautiful, quiet orgasm sweeping everything in its path. His girl deserved a proper wake up, deserved and needed her climaxes, and deserved to be watched, because she was so beautiful. Her teeth and tongue clamped tightly on his foot, his toes, as she bit and licked, completely undone, turned inside out by his expert hand.

He still worked her hand in her, his thrusts shallow and not as strong, when she collapsed on the mattress at last, eyes closed, panting.

He smiled and finally slipped on the mattress alongside her, though he kept a finger between her folds, rubbing soothingly. She’d bite his head off if he removed his hand from her this quickly.

“Good morning my love,” he whispered at last, kissing her cheek.

“Mmmm, good morning,” she sighed with satiated pleasure.

“Some guy caught an eyeful,” he whispered, but she only snuggled to his chest.

“I don’t care…As long as you were watching me, that’s all that matters.”

“I wouldn’t mind sliding into your little bum right now,” he confessed, stroking her hip and her curvy backside.

“Do you want to take me?” she offered sweetly, eyes fluttering open.

He kissed her head and smiled, “So tempting, but not here and not now. Let’s jump in the shower and then be on our way. We’ve got a decent amount of driving to do today.”

She nodded.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” she stroked his cheek, the sharp, angular cut of it, the dark bronze skin.

“You did, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you, Azriel.”

“I love you, Elain.”

 Elain

Their day was long.

They had their cappuccino and cornetti at some café on the road.

Their trip had a purpose—they were actually driving to Maranello, to the Ferrari headquarters where Azriel had 3 days of business meetings.

When Az told her that he was thinking of going to Italy, it was no brainer to say ‘yes’.

It was the first time she was going to leave her business, her shop, for an extended period of time, but Feyre promised to oversee the operations, while Cerridwen, whom Elain recently hired as a full-time employee and who was Nuala’s sister, was going to be responsible for the day-to-day.

The last time Elain’s been to Italy was when she was barely 10 years old. A few years before everything’s went to shit. Back then, her father completed a very lucrative business deal and there was a lot of disposable cash, so the family decided to take a grand trip to Italy.

Little Feyre who was only seven screeched and begged to go to Disneyland, while Nesta and their mother voted for Italy. No one asked Elain, assuming that she’d go wherever she was told.

The trip was extensive, almost four weeks, and they hit all the glamorous Southern parts—the Amalfi coast, with their headquarters in a rented villa near Positano. Then they went to Portofino, and their father rented a yacht for a few days, the trip culminating in Capri. It was a whirlwind on sun and the sea, of lemons, eating grilled squid, at which Feyre stared in horror, though she liked the taste, amazing fruit, endless pastries and gelato. Even their mother yanking a few pastries away from Elain, hissing that she ‘grow fat and not find a husband’ didn’t mar the experience. Elain, always the plumper of the sisters, was used to the warning by then.

 This time around, Elain could eat as much pastry as she wanted.

They landed in Rome, spent four days there, since she insisted on going to the Vatican Museum twice, hear Mass at St. Peter’s, and she didn’t know if she annoyed Azriel with her endless excitement and tales of art, artists, and biblical stories, but she couldn’t help herself.

She was an Art History major in NYU, receiving a full scholarship to attend. She loved it. Didn’t like college all that much as a whole, but loves studying. When everyone was partying, drinking, fucking and skipping classes, she went to the Met and to MOMA and learned and enjoyed herself. She loved history of religion, of other cultures and though not at all religious herself, none of them were, her knowledge on the subject was thorough.

Azriel, it seemed, liked her passion, her excitement, and listened attentively when she went on long explanation of what this or that Saint did and what grizzly death they’d suffered. And what was the significance of the painting or sculpture of the said Saint. Obviously, he was very artistically inclined as well, though his preference lay in design and industrial art, but he enjoyed listening and discussing. They spent hours and hours meandering the halls of the museum, and of the cathedral, and both spent a good half an hour in front of the Pieta, staring in silence and quiet contemplation at the sculpture, holding hands.

It was when they were sitting at a café, sipping some bitter Campari cocktails and watched the sprawling vistas of Rome that Azriel confided to her. Told her of his childhood. She knew some of the details, but he never talked about his childhood, and she opted not to pressure him. It was clear enough that it was horrific in many ways, and bringing up all those memories didn’t make sense to Elain.

Told her how his father, who was rich and vicious, won custody of him from his mother, not because he wanted his son, but out of spite, to torment the mother. And then it was years of solitude and loneliness and emotional and physical abuse. Azriel’s only reprieve was drawing, making designs, sometimes with chalk on the pavement, sometimes on scraps of paper. His stepmother threw everything out as soon as he made it. He languished in his father’s world for 8 years, until a catastrophic event took place—his stepbrothers doused him, his hands, in gasoline and lit him up. They didn’t call the paramedics either, and simply stood there, watching, as he burned. Finally, the neighbors heard his screams and police and ambulance came at last.

Because he was young, he recovered most of the sensations and feeling in his hands, but the skin was permanently scarred and his father refused skin grafts.

He’d met Cassian at the hospital, who came there having been beaten so badly by his foster father, that he had a concussion, broken ribs and a punctured eye socket.

Mrs. Darling, Rhys’s mother, who was one of the biggest benefactors of the children’s hospital where they were recovering, heard their stories and thankfully, her wealth opened every door. Her influence and wealth were no match for Azriel’s father. Hence when she decided that she wanted to adopt the two boys, little could be done to dissuade her. Azriel and Cassian still spent some time in foster care, while the documents were being processed and all the formalities legalized, but at the end, they ended up with the Darlings, as their adopted sons.

Elain wanted to cry for him, for his destroyed childhood, for his tormented youth, for his injuries, for the lack of love in his life. For his sake, though, she didn’t.

Sensing that he needed her support, she didn’t release his hand for the remainder of the day.

And she told him how much she loved him and how happy he made her.

 They left Montepulciano, and then drove for a few hours and stopped at Orvieto, and explored its unnecessary enormous Duomo, which was situated on the hill, amidst the Umbrian lushness. The tiny town did offer spectacular views and great wine, which they enjoyed with lunch.

 Now

Azriel worked his fingers into the supple warmth of her damp pussy and looked down, before ordering, “wider, Lainey”.

She spread her legs wider, her knit dress folded haphazardly over the belly.

“Wider,” he said and she placed one foot on the seat, exposing herself completely to him.

It was never wide enough for him, for he liked to see everything, liked to spread and open and pull her wide apart for his eyes, for his exploration.

He pressed his thumb to her plump pink clit and began to rub.

She whined impatiently and he smiled,

“We are almost there…”

“I need you,” she moaned, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“I need you too, my beauty,” he nodded, “but I think once we get there, you’ll forget all about me.”

She tsked and announced, “I don’t know if anything will impress me as much as your cock in my mouth,”

He started at the blunt words, her amused grin and then burst out laughing.

“Naughty.”

In a few minutes, he rounded a small green hill and Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, gods…Az…”

He was smiling.

He’d never been here before, but he’d done his research, finally finding the right spot.

A tiny hidden valley, nestled between a few rolling Tuscan hills, with a small turquoise lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun. In the distance, a mandatory Tuscan villa.

And poppies. Fields of poppies, stretching as far as the eye can see. A blanket of ruby-red poppies, gently swaying in the pine-scented air.

This place was a damn Walmart painting come true, and Azriel loved it for its kitsch, its predictability.

“It’s gorgeous!” she gasped. Then chuckled, adding, “Like one of those mass-produced paintings,”

At that, Azriel roared with laughter, killed the engine and they got out of the car.

“My thoughts exactly!” he nodded vigorously.

She ran into the poppies, brushing her palm over the petals, “But it’s worth it! No painting can ever do this justice! Az…it’s so beautiful!” she twirled in the field of red, her white dress a stark contrast to the vibrancy of the colours around her—the cobalt of the cloudless sky, the emerald green of the hills, the blood-red of the poppies.

He folded his arms and said, “I am glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!”

She inspected all the wildflowers that bloomed among the poppies, picking a few purple ones and a daisy and tucking them behind her ear. Another daisy she brought to him and tucked it into his hair.

“There is a blanket in the trunk,” he jerked his head towards the car, and unbuttoned his shirt almost to the navel, “if you want to picnic,”

“I want to picnic!” she squealed and ran to the car to get what she needed.

Soon there was a blanket on the grass and a few bottles of wine in a basket.

He slid down, stretching on the blanket, toeing off his shoes, rolling his shoulders. This was nice. He also relished her happiness, how her high ponytail bounced about as she ran through the field barefoot, and then began twirling, arms outstretched and singing loudly,

The hills are alive with the sound of

Griswold, he helped out.

“Are you coming here?” he called out, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“No,” she yelled, “I am picking flowers!”

“They’ll wilt,” he muttered reasonably, but she didn’t hear him.

Azriel dozed off, surprising himself. But the pleasant heat, the sunshine, the breeze, the birds—all lulled him into sleep. He stirred only when he sensed Elain near, and when he opened his eyes, he was treated by a lovely surprise. He propped himself on his elbows and watched his beautiful girl walk towards him completely naked, with a heap of flowers in the crook of her arm. What she did with her dress he didn’t know and didn’t care. But he drunk in the slim, curvy silhouette of her body, the long, slender legs and the toned thighs. Her smooth, pink sex glistened just a bit with her usual arousal, and full breasts bounced with every step. Her hair flowed behind her, unbound.

“I got hot,” she announced.

He grinned.

“I can see that. I like it when you get hot like this.”

She stood over him, her delicious slit taunting him and he made to touch it, but she dumped all the flowers on him instead and said, “get up”.

“Why?!” he frowned. “I am so comfortable.”

“I can make you a little more comfortable,” she promised, “but for that, you have to get up.”

With a groan, he got on his feet, only to have her slide on her knees in front of him. She looked up and murmured, “by the time you are done with me, I only want to have gelato to soothe my throat.”

He swallowed audibly, watching her unbutton his trousers and then his shirt. She removed the pants completely, but left the white shirt on, before placing a few soft, loving kisses on the thick slabs of muscles on his stomach. The well-defined outline of his Adonis Belt she traced with her tongue, inevitably making her way from his hip towards the final destination.

“And I want my knees bruised,” she added with a wicked smirk.

He flicked her nose and shook his head, “such filthy words coming from this pretty little mouth.”

She licked her lips with impatience, hungrily watching him fist his member and give it a few rough, preliminary strokes.

“Gods, your cock is gorgeous,” she gasped with admiration, watching him work himself with practiced determination.

“You like my cock?” he drew the thick, smooth head of it over her full lips and she whimpered with anticipation, nodding, kissing it affectionately, with slow, open mouth kisses, as he continued to pump it lazily.

She admitted, “more than anything. Az, Az,” she begged impatiently, as he smeared a trickle of liquid that dribbled from the tip over her lips, “please,”

“Please what?”

She rested her hands on his thighs, kneeling close enough so that her breasts brushed against them, “I want it in my mouth. Please.”

He lightly smacked the thick girth of his shaft over her half-opened mouth, making her shake with anticipation, smiling down at her. Her eyes burned with raw, overwhelming desire.

“But I like it when you ask me, baby. Tell me more,”

“That your cock is gorgeous and ridiculously huge?” she chuckled, relishing in his rubbing the tip insistently over her lips, as she licked the little slit.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

“That I love you and can’t wait to suck it?”

“Alright, babe,” she nodded at last, “I guess you’ll just have to suck my huge dick,” and with that, he slid between her lips.

She smiled around him and pulled on it deeper, dragging her tongue over and under the thick shaft. It was always just a little too big for her, so she gasped, as he filled her mouth more and more, sliding in steadily. She eased her throat as much as she could, accepting the thrust and feeling the smooth head dip down, brushing the back of her throat. He was watching her intently, every bob and swallow of her throat, making sure that she was comfortable enough to hold him in. “Big?” he murmured. Her eyes teared up, but she managed a small nod. Her hands squeezed his thighs nervously, tightly, stroking the backs of them, while he began to pull out slowly, before sliding back in.

Nothing was more exciting than Elain’s ability to mould her throat around his shaft, while those big brown eyes blinked at him, seeking approval. He put his hand over her head, stroking it, then caressing her face, her hollowed cheeks, while giving her mouth a few exploratory thrusts.

She readied herself and pulled back, releasing the cock with an audible pop, and then licking the underside, from the balls to the tip.

“Just like that, my love,” he nodded, watching her tuck her face in the crease of his hip and slide her tongue up and down the sides of his cock. “Is that good?”

“It’s the best,” she vowed, “I love licking!” she added enthusiastically, proceeding to do just that.

He always remembered that she was very innocent and whatever she knew, no matter how sensual, erotic or even perverse, it all came from him. He taught her—gently, firmly and thoroughly the art of the bedroom and whatever they did, he was completely assured that she enjoyed and wanted every moment of it. Thankfully, she was so innocent that she didn’t know how to pretend or fake anything, especially when it came to sex, and didn’t know how to play games. She was eager and loving and excitable because what they did together, with each other, pleased her, and for no other reason. Azriel cherished this level of honesty more than anything.

Therefore, when she said that she loved licking, she showed him just how much she enjoyed it, licking up and down voraciously, over the sides, watching him unblinking. He cupped the pouch of his balls in one hand and carefully eased it into her mouth.

“You are so good to me,” he groaned, as she wrapped her lips around the ball and began to suck eagerly, not caring if she was loud, smacking her lips, tongue working non-stop, caressing the flesh. She hummed appreciatively around the balls, sending a pleasant shiver down his thighs, her mouth completely filled with him. “That’s good, my girl,” he stroked her head, “just like that. Keep going,” his head fell back with satisfaction, and she swallowed hard around his balls, almost moaning at the sight of his neck, the expression of pleasure written on his face.

“Can I tell you a story?” he muttered huskily, looking back down at her, his eyes dark and his face tense. Elain nodded. He gripped his cock and then slid it back in her mouth, almost to the hilt, making her choke and gag at once, watching her eyes widen.

She was drooling, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the pressure of her member in her throat, or from the visual display of his stunning body above her. The thick pectorals, adorned with black and blue ink twitched as he began to pump in and out of her mouth, hard and steady. He held the back of her head, but the clutch of his hand was light and casual, only keeping her in place, as his narrow hips flexed with each deep push. A delicious bead of sweat ran down the cobbled network of his abdominal muscles, slowly making its way to the deep V etched into his hips, towards the thick cock that he was currently ramming into her mouth.

She drooled. She licked and laved and lapped. She didn’t care how messy or ridiculous she looked, because her man loved her and loved her on her knees in front of him.

“I couldn’t stop watching you talk,” he grumbled, “the first time I saw you. Your plump lips…Oh fuck, baby, you feel so, so good,” he rode her smoothly, with deep, expert strokes, “you wore that rose-tinted lipstick…and all I could think of afterward was those lips wrapped around my dick.”

She smiled over his member, lightly shaking her head, as much as her current position would allow.

“I am sorry, honey,” he smiled at her, “this pervy mind couldn’t think of anything else but getting my dick down your throat.”

And demonstrating just that, and the resolution of his dream, he pushed further.

“Alright?” he asked, carefully holding her jaw. She blinked her approval. He was unable to take his eyes off her, her lush lips wrapped tightly around the dark mass of him, her beautiful eyes tearing from pressure. He wiped the tears with his thumbs and then gave a brief nod, “give me those flowers, baby.”

Obviously, she couldn’t glance down, so she blindly grabbed a handful of flowers and handed them to him, her expression amused, a little surprised.

“What’s more romantic,” he murmured, stroking her hollowed cheeks and then pulling out a little, before pushing back in, “than putting pretty flowers into my Lainey’s hair,” and he plucked a small poppy from the heap, and pushed in into her hair, “while she deepthroats me?”

He was heavy and thick in her mouth, salty, delicious and familiar, and as he began thrusting firmly, the thick head hitting the back of her throat, Elain settled in for a ride. She wasn’t kidding when she asked for her throat to be raw by the end of it—she liked being sore somewhere in her body from him, at all times. Between her legs, inside her rectum, in her throat—it didn’t matter, though it was nice if it was everywhere, but she loved being marked by him in some way.

The hum and rumble in Azriel’s throat, that of masculine satisfaction and some kind of primal dominance made her so wet, she leaked down her thighs. But he didn’t tell her to touch herself, so she didn’t. He just fucked her throat steadily, the audible sound of her choking and sputtering around his cock and the satisfied snarls emanating from him, the only sounds around them. His hips rocked hard, pumping deep, as he garbled endearments and praise to her, “is that so good, honey? You feel amazing…”

She squeezed his thighs in affirmation. As he worked on her, he kept putting flowers in her hair, admiring her sucking and his work, “so gorgeous, baby. My beautiful girl…Good cock?”

“Mmmm,” she only managed, saliva bathing her chin and chest, her eyes rolling back with pleasure and exhaustion.

“Can you handle a little more?” he begged, “I don’t want to come yet, my love,” another flower in her hair. “I love you on your knees with my cock in her mouth.”

He set a brutal rhythm, muttered, “choke, baby…” and she did, gagging and panting over his member, the lack of oxygen making her pliant and obliging, her mouth existing for his pleasure. When they played a little rougher, he could request to squeeze her throat a little with his hand, while he choked her with his cock, but today, he was feeling romantic, as was she.

Her hair dripped with flowers of all kinds, as he fashioned her into some kind of Summer Lady. Or maybe a Dusk Lady, since the sun began its descent and shadows spread over the pretty little valley.

“Fuck me, you are so beautiful,” he grunted, looking down at her. “My flower girl, with my cock in her mouth. Bob a little, love, show me how much you like it,” he encouraged and she immediately began to bob her head  up and down on him, drool sliding down his shaft, her eyes pleading for his approval, which he gave generously.

He gently, kindly stroked her face, her throat, feeling his cock deep inside it, moving in her, rubbing at the indentation with his thumb. Then, he cupped her face between his large hands and murmured, “open up”, thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks, as tears slid down when he started to thrust intently, battering her throat. “My girl is sucking so well,” he was relentless now, pounding and pounding, an Elain thought that she might just pass out from the sensation, feeling lightheaded. Azriel had inhuman stamina when he was between her legs, but that also translated to when he was in her mouth, which meant he could ravage her completely. “I’ll feed you all the gelato myself, if you can suck a little more,” he promised with a smirk, pulling out completely. “Breathe,” he ordered, and she gulped in some air, before he thrust back inside, “are you tired?”

She shook her head ‘no’. She was never tired for him. She moaned, though his cock pushed down all sound with brutal, excited enthusiasm, as he cupped his balls tightly in his hand, readying to finally come. “Fuck, baby, you suck so well,” he squeezed her shoulder, stooping over her, the muscled of his abdomen twitching and tensing, his balls tight against her chin. Grabbing her shoulder with one hand, he cupped her under the jaw and kept her head still, as he exploded in her mouth. He poured down her throat with a pleased, blissful moan, throwing his head back, pumping harshly and erratically, filling her mouth over and over. She sucked and drank, swallowing quickly, gluttonously. Azriel always tasted heavenly, but perhaps it was something about being in Italy and all the fruit and wine that they’ve been consuming, but she couldn’t get enough of him now. He shot rope after rope down her throat and she lapped it all with pleasure. He dropped on his knees, exhausted, his cock still in her mouth, and she stroked and caressed his body soothingly, swallowing the last of him.

“Gods, Elain,” was all he managed, as he finally withdrew in an endlessly long pull from her lips.

She gasped, and licked her lips, before placing a loving, playful kiss on the pink, wet head of the shaft.

“Did you have fun, my love?” she cooed tenderly, as Azriel slumped on the blanket, head her on her lap.

“Baby, why do you spoil me like this?” he moaned, reaching for her bare plump breast and cupping lightly.

“Probably because I love you more than it’s prudent,” she smiled, her voice hoarse. “More than anything. Love you like I didn’t know I could love anybody. Also,”

“Yes?”

His chest constricted from her simple admissions, from the pure earnestness of her words, from the love that was shining in her brown eyes. He was undeserving of this woman, of her overwhelming love for him, of everything that she gave him so selflessly. But he listened and listened, because everything she told him was like a balm on all the wounds of his soul, and music to his heart.

Her lips were gorgeously, obscenely swollen, and he dragged his thumb over their plumpness. She added, “you are very hot.”

“Ahhh,” he chuckled. “So you are using me for my body?”

“I’d be stupid not to use you for your body. You got one hell of a body, my mysterious, shadowy Azriel.”

“Well, flower girl, you go ahead and use my body as much as you want, for anything you desire. It’s yours.”

He kissed her hand. Then, reached up and kissed her pretty pink nipple.

“As is my heart,” he added softly. “Anything you want. It’s all yours.”

She lay next to him, both of them sprawled in the blanket of flowers. She picked a poppy and stuck it behind his ear.

“Pretty boy Azriel.”

He propped his cheek and turned to face her. She was still covered in flowers, from all his handiwork.

“We are good together, aren’t we?” she murmured, laying her hand on his neck.

“We are. We are very good together, Lainey.”

She bit her swollen lip and then said, voice quiet, a little uncertain,

“Maybe you want to marry me?” she proposed.

He stilled, waiting for more.

She squeezed the back of his neck a little tighter and continued, no stopping her now, “I know we were thinking later, maybe next y-,”

“Yes,” he nodded, “yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Elain, I want to marry you now.”

She gasped, tears of joy moistening her eyes, “In Florence?” she begged.

“Yes. In Florence,” he cupped her face in his. “Let’s go get married!”

[keeperofhounds]

BNHR X KHR Part One

Okay, so I’ve been having this brain worm in my head and if anything is interested in learning more then shoot me up a message! But this is for the most part a crossover idea between My Hero Academia and Katekyo Hitman Reborn. It’s not a true crossover but if anything My Hero Academic many many years after the events of Reborn.

To start with at the end of the events of Reborn in the manga Tsuna eventually becomes Neo Vongola Primo and starts a new age for Vongola. This is the kid who saved the lives of the lives the Arcobaleno who for the most part become affiliated with Vongola. Considering how no one outside of the events know how the chosen seven are chosen allot of prestige is added. For the most part Arcobaleno move on with their lives but they left with the promos that if Vongola ever needs their strength then they’ll have it.

For the most part they lived their lives and died, except for Verde who was able to recreate the stasis effect that the pacifiers created so that he can continue researching whatever caught his fancy. Good for him!

With the Vindice no longer governing the laws of the Mafia world the Varia take over and become the enforcers which makes sense considering they want to show off that they are the strongest people around. It also gives Tsuna a reason to disband the assassination squad without stamping on them.

Quirks for the most part where well known in the mafia before the shining baby. I mean how couldn’t they have not been known when you have people who can turn food in poison, and children who can ranking anything? The shining baby was just the first time people freaked out and made a big deal about it. It also didn’t help that many similar cases where happen all around the world. Although Byakuran theorized that the events where happening because of the change in the Trin-ni-sette. It doesn’t really matter much since Tsuna’s time has passed by then.

At some point the events of the Shigaraki Brothers come to pass but the two future wielders of One for All are from the Foundation (It’s the organization that TY Hibari created) they are trying to fight against All for One and for the most part have been successful in causing damage. AfO very much dislikes Vongola mostly because they control the Underworld and they are very much an obstacle.

When First is in Vongola custody he learns about his quirk (not the stockpiling but the transfer quirk). The group get to know each other and for the most part they become good friends. Vongola Boss of this time talks to the First although this is against the advice of most people. They talk but no one really knows what about but by the end of it First is given a blessing and leaves with a promise.

The blessing is that anyone who would want to join his quest from this family can go. The promise is that with this blessing they are family and they should never fight and to ask if they ever need help. For the most part things go about the same but the trio of OfA left instructions to their successors on how to contact the Vongola is they ever need anything.

Hikage Shinomori used the Vongola to fund his solitary life and to give opportunities to make the quirk stronger. They also provided medical assistance and insight for his advanced aging.

En used the Vongola for his injuries especially after Banjo had passed away.

Nana used Vongola to put her son into hiding which is how he was able to have a normal life (for the most part what happened to Tenko was bad luck and her sons own actions.) and asks that they keep Toshinori safe until he’s ready to strike out on his own.

While Toshinori is busy training (Toshinori got an amazing scholarship package for a University in the United States) the Vongola step into the fray to make sure the AfO doesn’t encroach on their territory (they have been keeping him out but without anyone to distract him they have to put more force into it.)

Vongola through all this time has been adapting to the social dynamics of the world. Not to mention they have been moving away from their unsavory practices finding legitimate avenues to make money. Back in Italy there are a good few Pro Heroes with ties to the Vongola although this is mostly quiet. After all Vongola started off as a vigilante group, it never hurts to be paid. With OfA out of the way AfO puts his focus on destroying the Vongola. Neo Nono wants to honor the promise but she also can’t let him continue doing what he wants.

It was a sound defeat for AfO he couldn’t stand against Neo Nono and he was forced into hiding. He can be a slippery rat when he wants.

Through underhanded tactics Neo Nono is killed. AfO tries to steal the Vongola sky ring because to have that would give him access to unattainable wealth and power, but Natsu fights back making AfO lose an arm through petrification. Natsu runs away to what can only be assumed will be his new owner. Vongola on the other hand seems to vanish over-night.

AfO isn’t able to enjoy the defeat since All Might comes into the scene.

Years later a young Izuku Midoriya finds a scared looking cat hiding in the bushes. A very strange cat considering it’s made of gold fire!

I have a lot more thoughts I will definitely write out more. But damn I just had to share! Message me if anyone wants to talk about this!

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part VII (x reader)

Summary: Reader tries to make things right, with a little push from her mama.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: none

a/n: I know, I know— please just let our babies be happy ♥️ and so it was. Also, big ups to my tumblr gf @idmakeitbehave​ for being my beta the past two chapters.

Series Masterlist

———

One week.

That’s how long it had been since their argument. Spencer had driven back to his apartment in silence, absolutely stunned by the way things had blown up.

They’d gotten back from the case in Utah on the fifth of January, and he’d driven straight to Y/N’s, ready to give her a belated New Year’s kiss. Immediately upon entering her apartment, he knew something was wrong. Her hug was stiff, her kiss brief, her eye contact minimal. He’d spent the night, but they barely touched, and she left early for work without waking him. He’d let himself out and texted her later in the day to invite her over for dinner.

Dinner hadn’t been any less awkward, and when he felt awkward, he knew it was bad. He finally couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he’d called it out. He had expected some resistance, but he hadn’t expected that. Y/N never spoke to him with any malice at all, even when he was actually doing something that irritated her. She was the queen of healthy communication. So for her to speak to him like that meant that the underlying issue was much, much worse than he’d originally thought.

He’d gone over their conversations a thousand times, looking desperately for the moment that it went wrong. After some deep consideration, he was certain that something had happened on New Year’s Eve. He just wasn’t sure what. Y/N was insistent that she wasn’t bothered by the declined call, but he still wished he could go back in time and answer it. He was pretty sure the seeds of their argument had sprouted in that moment, regardless of what she said.

Spencer knew she was a creature of habit, and that sometimes she needed space to process and experience her emotions. And if he was being honest, he needed some space after the argument, too. But usually she would have at least texted him by now.

He sighed and set down his newspaper, realizing he’d read the same page four times and hadn’t retained any of it. It was Friday, and he knew she was working. But still his fingers itched to dial her number. He picked up the phone, pressing a key to light up the screen yet again.

No new messages.

He dropped the phone back to the table with a little more force than was necessary. He decided he’d give her the rest of the weekend. If he didn’t hear from her by Sunday, he’d have to do something.

…

Y/N dropped her bag on the floor inside the door and turned to lock the deadbolt. She had managed to sneak out of the building without being stopped by Anita, and she thanked the universe for small miracles.

She didn’t want to have to explain herself. She didn’t want anyone to know what an absolute troll she’d been. Considering that Sam and Spencer had practically become attached at the hip since they’d started hanging out more, Anita was bound to ask about him.

She showered and ordered Thai food, snuggling down on the couch to watch a movie with Roald. She settled on Dumplin’— a favorite for the body positivity, the southern drawls, and the Dolly Parton drag.

And then she came to the argument outside of Harpy’s and lost what little emotional stability she had left.

“Never took you for the type that cares much what people think.”

“I can’t, Bo. And that might make me a coward, but—”

“It does. Willowdean Dixon, I think you’re beautiful. To hell with anyone who’s ever made you feel less than that.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Roald meowed in distress. She choked out a sob and stroked over his ears, closing her eyes in defeat. “I really fucked this up, huh?”

It had only been one week, but it felt like years since Spencer walked out of her apartment. She’d stayed in bed for the entire weekend, crying on and off. She knew she had no one to blame but herself. Owen had knocked over the first domino, but she’d done nothing to stop the rest from falling.

Spencer had done everything right. He’d done everything she asked, and she’d thrown it all back in his face. He had made the comparison to Mitchell Park, and he was absolutely right. She’d done the exact same thing, only she had almost a year’s worth of ammunition, and she cut a hell of a lot deeper.

Roald nuzzled against her, but she nudged him away— she didn’t even deserve the comfort. Instead, she fumbled in the couch cushions for her phone, swiping open the screen and tapping her favorites list, thumb hovering over Spencer’s name. Then she tapped on the name right above it and blew out a breath.

The line connected and rang three times before she picked up. “Hey, sugar! Your ears must be ringin’, ‘cause I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you.”

“Hey, mama,” Y/N breathed.

Her mother’s tone changed from chipper to concerned in an instant. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She leaned forward to the coffee table to grab Spencer’s scarf— somehow left behind in her apartment— rubbing it between her fingers. “I— I really messed up.”

“Oh, Lord. You need bail money?”

Despite herself, Y/N laughed wetly. “Oh my god , mama. No, I don’t need bail money.”

“Well, if you made bail it can’t be that bad,” Rose insisted.

“I didn’t— I’m not in jail, for Christ’s sake.” Y/N ran a hand over her face. “I messed things up with Spencer.”

“Well, we can fix that,” Rose responded matter of factly. “What happened?”

“We were fighting, and I said some really, really awful things,” Y/N admitted, tears spilling over her lash line.

Rose scoffed. “Honey, I say awful things to your father all the time, and we’ve been married almost 40 years.”

Y/N heaved a long sigh. “Not like this, mama.”

Her mother hummed in consideration. “Well, what were y’all fightin’ about?”

“It’s complicated,” Y/N hedged, toying with the fringe of the scarf.

Rose clicked her tongue. “Do ya want my help or not?”

Y/N dropped her head back against the couch. “I ran into Owen on New Year’s Eve—”

“Well, I hope you told him to stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Rose practically growled.

Y/N closed her eyes as the tears tracked hot down her cheeks. “I didn’t. I— I let him get under my skin, and then I didn’t want to tell Spencer about it because it’s embarrassing, but he knew something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop asking about it.” She had to pause and suck in a hiccuping breath, releasing it on a sob. “So I yelled at him and said all kinds of terrible things, and then he left, and now I think maybe we broke up, and I’ve literally never been so sad in my whole life.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and then she heard Rose sniffling. “Really shoulda had your brothers knock the mess out of that son of bitch when we had the chance. He's been gone five years, and he’s still hurtin’ you every chance he gets.”

Y/N swiped uselessly at the tear tracks on her cheeks, sniffling pathetically. “And now I hurt the person who’s spent the last year singlehandedly undoing all of his awful handiwork.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rose cooed. Y/N could hear the creak of the floorboards as her mother walked through her childhood home. “You said he knew somethin’ was wrong, right? I can almost guarantee that he’s still just wonderin’ what’s goin’ on. I know he’s supposed to be a genius, but he’s still a man. And men are dumb, sugar. You gotta spell it out for ‘em. Have you talked to him since?”

“No.” Fresh tears spilled over Y/N’s lashes as the thoughts that had kept her from calling him spilled out of her mouth. “What if it was too far? What if I ruined everything? What if he never wants to speak to me again?”

Ross heaved out a long breath. “That’s a lot of what ifs, Y/N.”

“What if I’m right?” she whispered.

“And what if you’re not?” Rose countered. “That boy loves you. Anyone could see that, clear as day. He’d do just about anything for you.” Rose paused, and Y/N heard the springs of the bed squeak as she sat. “But you gotta let him, sweetheart. Right now you’re takin’ away his chance to do that. You’re makin’ the decision for him.”

Y/N listened as her mother’s advice crackled over the line, and for the first time in a week, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

“If he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, you need to let him tell you that. Don’t settle for a what if. Find out for sure, or you're gonna spend the rest of your life worryin’ and wonderin’, sugar.”

…

That evening found Spencer in his usual spot on the couch, reclined against the arm with a book in hand. He’d promised himself he’d give Y/N the weekend to herself— that he’d let her come to him. That didn’t stop him from checking his phone obsessively; it never buzzed with any new calls or messages, but he still looked every seven minutes.

The sound of the buzzer jolted his body to attention. He checked his watch and drew his brows together before closing his book and scrambling to cross to the intercom, a tiny seed of hope beginning to germinate. He pressed the button to talk, calling, “Yes?” into the speaker box and then listening for the response.

“Hi.”

Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the crackle of the speaker. He buzzed her in without hesitation, crossing to the door and opening it immediately. She made her way slowly up the stairs, turning at the top of the landing and pausing.

His heart broke at the sight of her. She looked utterly exhausted, dressed in black sweatpants and a soft purple sweater, a black puffer jacket over top. She was holding his scarf, wringing it in between her hands. Her eyes were ringed red, and the bags under them were worse than his.

He watched as she crossed the landing, coming to stand quietly in front of him. He’d known something was wrong, but the way she looked now made him wonder just how long she’d been battling whatever private demons she wouldn’t let him in on.

“I, um.” She cleared her throat, and it was clear she’d been crying from the thickness of her voice. “I have a lot to say— again. But since I was such an asshole, I wanted to give you the opportunity to say anything you need to say first.”

He’d imagined this conversation countless times over the last week, and never once had he thought it would start like this. “Um. Well. You— you really hurt me.”

She could barely look at him. “I know.”

He swallowed. “Please don’t do that again.”

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I won’t. I won’t ever again.”

Spencer tucked his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “I know I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m a pretty good profiler. And I can tell when something’s wrong.” He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I’m just asking you to tell me when I do something that makes you upset.”

“You— you didn’t do anything wrong. I—” He watched her squeeze her eyes shut. “God, I’m so sorry, Spencer. I’m just— I’m sorry for so many things. For lying about being fine, for being up on my high horse about communicating and then not actually doing it, for being an absolute bitch.”

He wanted to argue— she wasn’t a bitch— but he could tell she was far from done.

“I— I thought therapy was supposed to teach me how to talk about things, but this still feels… impossible to say out loud,” she admitted, fingers fumbling with the fabric of the scarf. “It’s embarrassing and ridiculous. But I— I have deep-seated insecurities. That I’m not really that smart or interesting or particularly special.”

He thought back to that night in Mitchell Park and felt the guilt all over again. He’d practically said those exact words to her— it was no wonder she was feeling this way.

“And every person that I’ve ever been with has— really reinforced those ideas, so for a long time they were just… a set part of my self-image,” she explained, dragging a hand over her messy hair. “I thought— I thought that I was over it, but I— I don’t know. Maybe you never really are.”

His brain sorted through every moment of their year together, pinging off the countless examples of her self-doubt and insecurity. She was easily the most wonderful person he knew, but he could clearly see the cracks in the facade if he looked close enough. How had he missed it for so long?

“And then I met you, and you…” Y/N let out a wry laugh. “You’re easily the most interesting person I’ve ever met, but you made me feel like… I don’t know, like I’m interesting, too. Like I’m worthy of being with you, like I’m— like I’m good enough.”

He felt his heart splintering into a thousand tiny shards— good enough?

“But I can’t— I still have a hard time believing it sometimes. And I— I’ve been letting myself keep you at arms length. Letting you see parts of me, but… never giving you everything,” she admitted.

He watched her struggle to get the words out, her voice thick with the act of holding back sobs. He hadn’t realized she was carrying all of this. She was so good at supporting him and loving him through all of his trauma and issues, he hadn’t stopped to consider just how much she needed him, too.

She continued, “It’s why I took so long to say I love you… why I couldn’t talk to you last week. Because I just—” She shrugged as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to realize that I’m really nothing special. That you’re getting bored, or there’s someone who’s a better fit for you, or one million other things. That I’m needy, and annoying, and too much work.”

A fresh tear tracked down her cheek, and he felt his own eyes filling. She never failed to put a stop to his own insecurities— reminding him that she liked his rambling, that he wasn’t irritating, that he was just the right amount. In his eyes, she was perfect. He would have never guessed she felt this way about herself.

She continued, “That’s what happened before, and none of those guys were even half as wonderful as you are.” She swiped a hand haphazardly over her cheeks, looking at him sheepishly. “And then I was hurtful and awful, and I realized that I was just creating a self fulfilling prophecy and I don’t— I don’t want to do that.”

Her hand shook a little as she brought it back down to twist in his scarf. “Because it’s never— I’ve never felt like this. I've never been this happy with anyone else, and I don’t want to give that up. I don’t want to give you up. Even if sometimes I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Her voice cracked on a stifled cry, and his chest physically ached. “And if you never want to see me again, I completely understand, and I’ll leave you alone, but I— I’m just so sorry. And I love you so much, and I’m trying so hard to be better.” She sucked in a ragged breath and let it out on an exhausted sigh. “And that’s, um— that’s it. If you want me to go, I—”

“I don’t want you to go,” he interrupted.

Her eyes went wide. “You don’t?”

“Of course not.” Spencer stepped forward and reached for her. “Of course not. C’mere.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she was tumbling into his arms with a choked off sob. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind them, walking her to the couch and sitting them both down. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air.

“Y/N, I’m right here,” he assured her. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But if you n-need space, I understand,” she sobbed.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need space. I think a week was long enough, don’t you?” he asked, pressing a kiss into her hair.

She pulled back out of the hug, head down. “But I really hurt you.”

He held her hand. “Yeah. And I really hurt you, too.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s not how this works. I don’t get to hurt you just because you hurt me.”

“I know that.” He almost laughed at how indignant she sounded. “I’m not saying that we should hurt each other. I’m saying that sometimes it happens. And when it does, we apologize, and we forgive, and we move forward. And it’s okay if you need space. But I don’t.”

“What if you change your mind?” she whispered.

“Then I promise I’ll tell you.” Spencer tilted her chin up so he could meet her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you what I need, as long as you tell me, too. We’ve gotta use all those communication skills we learn in therapy.”

Y/N nodded, and he pulled her into another hug. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. “If I hadn’t heard from you by Sunday, I was planning to bother you until you talked to me.”

He could feel the beginning of a smile turning up the corner of her mouth where it was pressed to his shoulder. “You never bother me,” she mumbled. She held him for a moment longer and then released him from the hug and sat back, fidgeting with her hands and letting out a breath.

“Sometimes I need to be told that my worst fears about myself aren’t true,” she admitted. “I know that’s so annoying, but—”

“It’s not annoying,” he interrupted, putting an immediate stop to that line of thought. “Telling you how amazing you are isn’t the chore that you think it is. I’m sorry that anyone ever convinced you that it was.”

He covered her hands with his own, rubbing his thumbs softly along her skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about her dealing with all of this by herself. He hated that she’d ever felt anything less than adored. More than anything, he hated that he hadn’t been able to help her through it. And he wanted to make sure that he never made that mistake again.

“A wise man told me once... that love is helping someone navigate their storms,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. She looked at him then, and he continued, “You’ve been my lighthouse for a long time, Y/N. And I— I’m trying desperately to be yours… But you have to let me.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded. He let out a long breath and pulled her hands into his lap. “I understand that sometimes you need space, and that’s fine. I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”

He shook his head. “Just— please don’t try to weather the storm by yourself. You can’t do it all alone; no one can.” He smiled ruefully. “I can tell you from experience that’s pretty much a guaranteed way to capsize your boat.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, and he felt a tear slip over his lash line. “I’ll help you repair your boat, or build a new one, or you can just float on mine for a while. It’s not perfect but it’s pretty sturdy, I think.”

She brought her fingers up to brush at his damp cheeks, and he met her eyes. “What I’m not going to do is let you float out on the ocean by yourself. I love you too much.”

She was quiet for a long moment, sniffling a little and just watching him— almost like she couldn’t believe he was there. She brought her hand back to his and laced their fingers together, rubbing her thumb along his skin. “I love you the most.”

“Agree to disagree.” He gave her a small smile and leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead. “Want some tea?”

She was frowning when he pulled back, her brows drawn together. “I need to tell you about Owen.”

The conversation he’d had with Anita was suddenly on replay in Spencer’s head.

… a real piece of shit… telling her lies about herself… isolating her… destroying her from the inside out...

He squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “Talking about him takes away his power. I have to stop letting him have so much sway over my emotions.” She looked at him then. “I do things I regret and hurt people I love.”

He brought their joined hands up his lips. “Well, I’m here either way. And I’m still going to make you some tea.”

He stood and pulled her up with him, bringing her into the kitchen and refusing to let go of her hand. He filled the kettle and turned it on, found a bag of her favorite tea and ripped it open with his teeth. He dropped the bag into her favorite mug, and then made a mug up for himself.

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you’d let go,” she said, the hint of a smile in her voice.

“Mhm,” he agreed, but he made no move to release her hand. In fact, once he’d fumbled a spoonful of honey into each of the cups, he dropped the spoon into her mug and turned to pull her into another hug. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and closed his eyes as she brought her arms around his waist. “I missed you,” he whispered.

She squeezed him tight. “I missed you, too. I’m so sorry.”

She buried her face in his neck, and he felt her breathe him in. He pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then settled his chin again. “Apology accepted, in case it wasn’t clear.”

They stood like that until the kettle began to whistle, and then Spencer kept her tucked underneath his arm as he turned to shut it off and pour the water into the mugs. They each grabbed a mug, making their way back to the couch and setting them on the coffee table to steep. Spencer kept their fingers intertwined and stayed quiet, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

Y/N took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I guess I should start at the beginning. I, um— I had my first boyfriend in high-school: Cal Cunningham. He was older and cooler, and so I felt— I don’t know… special when he picked me.” She rolled her eyes. “In reality, he was rude, and arrogant, and kind of a misogynist. We didn’t date for very long, but it kind of… set me up on this path of dating guys who weren’t very nice.”

Spencer ran his thumb soothingly along hers, waiting for her to continue. “When I started college, I dated this guy Adam for a few months. He was nice enough but really self-centered and a little immature. When we broke up I just wanted to be on my own for a while.”

“I was single for two years after that, just kind of… finding myself and whatever.” Her eyes tracked the path his thumb traced along her skin. “So when I started dating Owen at the end of junior year, it felt like my first real relationship. Like— we were both adults, and he dressed up for our dates, and he paid for things and bought me flowers and fit all the cliches.”

“And it was great at first,” she admitted. “We had a lot of the same friends, so we’d been hanging out for a while before we got together. He was a perfect gentleman— and smart, accomplished, and ambitious. I fell fast, and I fell hard, and we were sort of— it feels so stupid to say this, but it felt like we were an it couple.”

“A few of us made plans to move to DC after graduation— my friend Jess and her boyfriend Chris, Sam and Anita,” she explained. “And Owen and I, obviously. We moved in together in an apartment downtown. And that’s when everything changed.”

She drew her brows together. “It was little things at first. Like he’d jokingly call me stupid for forgetting something, or he’d complain about one of my friends being annoying. But it snowballed pretty quickly. He’d tell me I was stupid, and he wasn’t joking. All of my friends irritated him to the point where we couldn’t hang out anymore— even our former mutual friends. He thought that teaching kindergarten was a mindless, pointless job.”

Spencer tried to keep his heart rate steady, his facial expressions neutral, but his blood pressure was on the rise. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, least of all Y/N.

She continued, “We spent the holidays at my parents’ the second year we were dating, and he spent the entire car ride home explaining, in detail, how ridiculous and low-class he thought everything was.”

She shook her head and rubbed her free hand over her face. “I know it’s insane that I stayed with him for five years, but I— he did a really good job of convincing me that I was... that I was nothing. That he was doing me a favor by loving me. That he could have anyone, but he chose me. No one else was going to, so I should be grateful.”

He balled his free hand into a fist to avoid squeezing her to death. When Anita had said Owen was a piece of shit… he hadn’t realized just how deeply she meant it.

She picked at the fabric of her sweatpants, staring intently at the tiny pills. “When someone says all of that to you on a daily basis, and you’re not hearing otherwise from anyone else— because no one knew what was going on— when someone tells you you’re nothing… you start to believe it.”

Spencer relaxed his fist to bring his fingers up to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a long moment. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he pressed his lips to her forehead in a voiceless assurance that she was, in fact, everything. He felt her relax under the warm pressure of his lips, and he hoped that was enough for now.

He sat back to let her continue. “We were together for five years, and we only broke up because he cheated on me. It was a long term affair; they were sleeping together for almost a year before I found out. And… a lot of people knew. Almost all of his friends knew. But I didn’t. I was still being this ridiculous, desperate little Suzy Homemaker trying to make him happy, even though he was still treating me like shit.”

She laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “When I found out, I wasn’t even hurt. I was… embarrassed, I guess. But I was so relieved. I was so fucking relieved that I had a way out.”

He watched as her shoulders settled, almost like an actual weight had been lifted off of them. “I got a therapist and dropped all of the friends that were still hanging around with him. I moved to a new neighborhood, started hanging out with Anita and Sam, and just— started fresh. And I was doing really well. I’ve had my moments of insecurity here and there, but for the most part, I’ve been able to recognize the moments when I’m falling back into old thought patterns.”

She looked at him then, and her eyes were so soft and lovely that his heart ached. “You’re a big reason for that. You’re so open with how you feel about me, and… it makes things a lot easier.” She dropped her gaze with a sigh. “But I— he was at the party on New Year's. And I didn’t know he was going to be there until I was already there , and then it felt stupid to leave. I thought I could handle it—”

“And then I didn’t answer your call.”

“No, no .” She shook her head and reached her free hand out to grasp his arm. “That’s— Spencer, none of this is your fault.” She furrowed her brow, and the crease between them was practically an abyss. “He sort of— cornered me on the patio. I hadn’t seen him in like, four years? And he was complimenting me, and asking about you, and then he tried to— well, he did kiss me actually. I shoved him off, and he didn’t like that, and he did his whole Owen thing. Told me that he’d cheated because I was uninteresting and worthless. That eventually you’d get bored of me, too. Just, um— generally awful shit.”

She took a deep breath, and the rest steamrolled off her tongue and over his heart. “And then he just— left . And he’d absolutely demolished my self-image in less than ten minutes, and I was embarrassed and angry at myself, and then you didn’t answer, but I was kind of glad you didn’t because I didn’t actually want to talk about it. And I thought I could just move on, but then I was being weird, and you knew something was wrong. And I just wanted to pretend like it never happened, but then you kept pressing me on it, and I just— I didn’t want to have to explain it all to you because I was afraid that— that maybe he was right.”

Y/N dissolved back into the couch, an unwelcome indication of the emotional exhaustion that came with reliving trauma. Spencer moved closer and mirrored the position of her body against the cushions, bringing his face close enough to bump their noses together. They breathed the same air for one noiseless minute before she finally met his eyes.

“I need you to understand that not one single thing he said to you— on New Year’s or ever— was right, in either sense of the word. None of it was factual, and none of it was acceptable.”

She gave him a weary nod, and he continued, “You are the single best person that I know. You’re kind, brilliant, and driven. You’re interesting, and wonderful, and lovely. You’re my absolute favorite person on the planet, and I will never get bored of you.”

He let his eyes trace over all the angles and curves of her face, and then raised his eyebrows. “He’s lucky that I respect you enough not to go over your head, because what I’d like to do is run a full background check and find any and every possible transgression that could be legally investigated and then use that information to ruin his life.” He tilted his head in thought. “That or— get really jacked and then beat the shit out of him.”

“God, please don’t. As much as I’d love to watch that unfold,” she cupped his face in her hand, “you’re better than that. And he’s not worth either of our energies… I already wasted enough time dwelling on it and hurt you in the process.” She dropped her hand back to her lap with a sigh. “I spent so much time in that relationship that my brain didn’t know what to do with this good, healthy one.”

He took both of her hands in his, squeezing them tight and then pressing a kiss to the back of each. He wouldn’t commit assault, since she’d asked him not to. But he wasn’t going to let Owen taint any part of his life with her.

“I’m so sorry that someone you loved made you think it was hard to love you. Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He pressed his lips together and mused, “But I think maybe love has a learning curve. Especially when you’re used to being hurt. You have to unlearn all the bullshit. People will have you thinking that you have to water yourself down, or change who you are, or make yourself more palatable. I thought that, too.”

He brushed her hair back away from her face and waited for her to meet his eyes. “And then I met you. And you love all of it— all of me. All the rambling, all the quirks, and— even the dark parts, too.”

She sniffled a little, but really smiled for the first time that night. “What’s not to love about you?”

He smiled back. “I’m not sure if you realize that I fully reciprocate that feeling. What’s not to love about you? I have a hard time thinking of even one thing about you that I don’t absolutely adore.”

“Even when I act like a horrid bitch?” she mumbled, only half joking.

He leaned his head against the couch cushion. “A year ago, you stood on my doorstep and gave me forgiveness— after I’d been a complete asshole to you... I told you then that I wanted to learn how to love with you. I still do. In all the wonderful, and the weird, and the terrible. Even when we get it wrong.”

He shrugged, and then ran a soft fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “There is no one else I’d rather get it wrong with. Because when we get it right… it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to magic.”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and she brought both hands up to his face, holding him with an adoration that made his own eyes burn. “You can believe that you love me the most,” she whispered, “but just know that you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward to close the distance between them, pressing a kiss to her lips with a reverence that felt technicolor and devout and more magical than any trick he’d ever mastered.

“Agree to disagree.”

———

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[robininthelabyrinth]

Targets - ao3

- Chapter 4 -

Jiang Yanli wasn’t sure her parents had ever agreed on anything, ever, in her life, but they were in complete accord now that Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng were missing.

Admittedly, that was the only thing they agreed on – that they were missing, not dead, not dead – but it was a good start.

It had all started when that strange woman with the very ordinary face had arrived, she thought. It’d been late when she first arrived, after Jiang Yanli’s parents had stopped receiving audiences; they’d asked her to wait until morning and then got busy and didn’t receive her until nearly midday, even though the woman had been pacing around anxiously in the waiting hall. And then there was a whole lot of arguing before finally they sent out some disciples to go check –

The disciples returned, pale-faced, and reported on what they’d found: a pool with signs of swimming, a spilled but empty lunchbox, and the bodies of seven men, covered in cloaks to suggest an identity as rogue cultivators but wearing Wen sect insignia underneath.

No sign of Wei Wuxian or Jiang Cheng.

Everything had very quickly gone to shouting after that.

Jiang Yanli was worried, too, of course, but she was only thirteen and a poor cultivator besides, average in every respect – looks, skills, power – and no one ever listened to her; she knew she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t give orders to go search with a solemn expression that she’d never before seen on her father’s face, eyes filled with panic and shoulders bowed with premature grief, the worst result already expected even as he denied the possibility of it; she couldn’t stalk around with so much rage that it felt like the onset of a thunderstorm like her mother, making sure that everyone was doing everything they could. She could only wait patiently by the gate to see if anyone came back.

Maybe it was her patience paying off, or maybe it was just luck, but she was the first one to see the cultivator arrive, late into the night. It wasn’t very ceremonious – he didn’t announce himself or anything, just swooped down with his saber until it was close to the ground, released the bundles he was holding in his arms, took a step forward and then collapsed onto his knees, face pale.

“Da-ge!” four voices shouted, distressed, and two of them were extremely familiar.

Jiang Yanli jumped to her feet and rushed forward, still disbelieving but overwhelmingly joyous. “A-Cheng! A-Xian!”

“Jiejie!” “Shijie!” they shouted, and she was so happy to see them, so happy, but they didn’t seem anywhere near as worried as she’d been; instead, they started talking at the same time. “You have to get someone, he’s used up too much spiritual energy –” “I can’t believe he carried us that far, and back, and after such a long trip, too –” “And a fight! Maybe he got injured?” “Impossible! But we should get a doctor just in case –” “Yes, and soup – shijie, can you make some –”

“Enough,” the cultivator rasped, lifting his hands to his face and rubbing it. He looked exhausted. “Thank you for your concern, all of you. I will see Sect Leader Jiang first.”

“It won’t make for much of a talk if you fall over!” one of the children she didn’t recognize said – the younger one, about her brothers’ ages, face full of baby fat. “Meng-gege, you’re older, tell him –”

The remaining child was about her age, if she had to guess, although he was short and looked gentle.

“Nie-gongzi is right,” he murmured – his accent sounded more Yunmeng than Qinghe, even if the oversized outer layer he was wearing looked more like Qinghe Nie than anything else. It probably belonged to the cultivator that had brought him, judging from the size. “You will not be able to make your case if you are unconscious.”

“I’m fine,” the cultivator insisted, and staggered up to his feet. “There’s no time, there’s still Lanling –”

There was no way this cultivator was flying all the way to Lanling.

“My parents will see you,” she interrupted. “They’ll be very happy to see A-Cheng and A-Xian are all right.”

They were, too, and Jiang Yanli assumed that only pride kept them from running over to grab them into an embrace – Jiang Cheng did run to their mother, and Wei Wuxian followed close behind to go beam at her father – but they were very puzzled to see the cultivator.

“Sect Leader Nie?” Jiang Yanli’s father said, and Jiang Yanli blinked: was that who her brothers’ savior was? “What are you doing here?”

“I received information,” he said. “Regarding the Wen sect –”

“We heard something similar,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said shortly, and glared at her husband.

“Unfortunately, we initially disregarded the warning of our spy,” he admitted. “And then we found the Wen sect cultivators’ bodies…your doing, I take it?”

Sect Leader Nie looked embarrassed for a moment, but then squared his shoulders. “Yes,” he said. “I was flying in to speak with you when I saw the attack taking place, and intervened.”

“They were coming at us with their swords!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “There was one right in front of my face, and then da-ge dropped down from the sky with his saber and – bam! Woosh! Urk!”

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Yanli’s mother snapped, though not as harshly as usual. It was almost long-suffering rather than cross. “Have some respect for Sect Leader Nie!”

“It’s fine,” Sect Leader Nie said. “I don’t mind. Are you prepared for invasion?”

“Invasion?” Jiang Yanli’s father said, frowning. “You think –”

“Wen Ruohan had given orders that the sect heirs of all the Great Sects be kidnapped or killed, not to mention your ward here and a few sundry others,” Sect Leader Nie said. “What is that if not a declaration of outright war? Surely he’d know that such a move, if successful, would lead to us all declaring war on him – he must have a next move planned out already.”

Jiang Yanli’s parents exchanged looks.

Sect Leader Nie pretended (badly) not to see it. “I’ve activated defenses in the Unclean Realm,” he said stiffly. “As you know, I’ve always thought…well. At any rate, we’ve made plenty of preparations, and they’re being put into action now. If it would be convenient, I was thinking of sheltering some of the targets there – I’ve already invited the Lan boys – and it would be no difficulty to have yours as well.”

He’d already assumed that they wouldn’t be prepared, Jiang Yanli thought, and saw her parents hear that unspoken message as well. He’d known they wouldn’t take the threat seriously and acted accordingly, and it was only due to his decisiveness that her brothers were still alive.

Her parents looked at each other again, gazes full of meaning.

“Very well,” Jiang Yanli’s father said after a long moment, voice heavy. “I will have to prevail upon your kindness, Sect Leader Nie.”

“Think nothing of it,” Sect Leader Nie said, and then frowned. “My concern is in regard to Lanling Jin...they have closer ties to Qishan Wen than either of us, and may discount the information, especially if it comes from me –”

“I’ll go,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said at once. “Madame Jin is my childhood friend. She will listen to me, provided it’s not already too late.”

Sect Leader Nie’s eyes flickered, but he didn’t say anything, just nodded. “He may as well come to the Unclean Realm as well,” he said. “Lanling City is large and Jinlin Tower spacious and luxurious, but there are many holes through which a snake might burrow.”

“I’ll bring him,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said. “Yanli can come with me.”

Jiang Yanli looked up, surprised. “Me?”

“You’re an heir, too,” her mother said. “You might not have been on the list, but you’re still at risk, especially if there’s going to be a war – greater risk, even. Anyway, Madame Jin will be more inclined to send her son to a safe place if she thought it was a way to build ties.”

The Jin sect heir was Jiang Yanli’s future fiancé. She supposed it was a good idea to meet him – and at least this way, she’d be going to the Unclean Realm with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, rather than staying behind.

“You should get something warm to wear,” Wei Wuxian advised her. “It’s cold when you fly!”

Jiang Yanli had developed her golden core just this year, right on schedule, so she doubted it, but she appreciated his consideration.

“Really cold,” the child in Nie sect colors said – the smaller one, since the older child, the Yunmeng one, was doing his best impression of a transparent plane of glass. “And we’ve been flying forever – we flew all night to get here from home, you know, and that was before da-ge fought seven Wen sect cultivators. And then we had to fly even more! Someone said something about soup. I want soup!”

“You should rest,” Jiang Yanli’s father said to Sect Leader Nie, abruptly sounding concerned. “Do you or any of yours require a doctor..?”

“Something to eat and some rest will be sufficient,” Sect Leader Nie said, which was probably a lie. “I’ll want to head out first thing in the morning, traveling by flight – I know it’s uncomfortable for the young ones, but I want to be back at my sect as soon as possible. You can send any additional luggage after us by horse.”

There was more talking then - mostly about how crazy Sect Leader Nie was to think he could make such a long flight with so many children, and, when he insisted, making him promise he’d take many breaks along the way - but luckily not much, and then there was saluting and Jiang Yanli was being swept away by her mother to go to Lanling City.

She knew it was wrong to be excited by the prospect of war, but she couldn’t help it. What an adventure!

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Strip Mall Club

Part One | Two | Three | Four |  Five | Six  | Seven | Eight 

The Lost Boys x Reader

Word Count: 3,928

Summary: Not my usual style, but here’s something silly for April Fools! A Crack AU there the boys all work at the same strip mall. 

“Why do you keep such weird hours?” you asked while wiping down the glass display case. The late-night dessert shop, Between the Pies, was owned by your aunt and operated out of Powers Strip Mall in midtown Santa Carla. The shop had been open for about a month with good success.

Too busy with school, you weren’t there for the opening, but once your schedule slowed down, you joined the team, eager to earn a little more cash. Plus, it was family and you’d always gotten along with your aunt.

One quirk with the strip mall was that all of its businesses didn’t open until the evening and stayed open all night long, into the early hours of the morning.

Your aunt shrugged as she organized the register. “It’s part of the leasing contract. The landlord is serious about the strip being a strictly night time operation.”

“I still think it’s weird…I’ve never heard of such a thing,” you insisted.

“You’ll get used to it,” she smiled. “Besides, we haven’t had a problem doing business so far.”

The conversation was left at that when a couple walked in wanting two pieces of pie to-go. You went to take their order and your aunt made herself scarce, retreating to the ovens in the back, giving you space to do your thing.

First order successfully completed, you waved them off with a “thanks” and “please come again.” As they were heading out the door another guy walked in. He was hard to miss with his fluffy blonde hair and black mesh shirt.

He didn’t come up to the counter, instead perusing the cluster of posters on the wall. He was humming enthusiastically but you didn’t recognize the tune. “Hey, mama. Are these new?”

Mama? You didn’t really know what to say. That seemed awfully forward of him.

The silence finally registered with him and he looked like a confused puppy when he saw you. “Wait. You’re not mama.”

You opened your mouth but before you could talk, he was yelling over you. “Hey! Mama! You in the back?”

By that point, you were getting a little annoyed. What kind of person came into a shop yelling, ignoring the obvious uncomfortable vibe? From behind you, you heard someone open the kitchen door. “Paul?”

His smile lit up even more, which you didn’t think was possible until you saw it for yourself. “Mama,” he called out happily, holding his arms open wide.

She walked into his arms to give him a tight squeeze and pat on the back. “How are doing sweetie?”

They chatted as if they were close friends, updating each other about their weekends and admiring the posters your aunt had picked up from L.A. You observed from the sidelines until your aunt drew you in.

“Come here,” she waved you over. “Paul, this is my brother’s kid, Y/N.”

“Hi, baby,” he grinned in that sunny, goofy way. You fought, and failed, to keep your heart from racing when he winked.

“Y/N, this is Paul. He works at the taco truck.”

“Yep, me and my best bud Marko have had her for two years. It’s a blast!” You peered out of the windows to see a large, painted truck parked out front. You hadn’t known that the strip mall had deals with any food trucks. It was a little beat up but very colorful.

Paul puffed up when he saw you checking it out. He even offered to give you a tour. “Come on, come on! Please?” He drew out please as if he was desperate to show you.  

You hesitated. After all, you were still on the clock.

Your aunt made the decision for you. “Go on, Y/N, we’ll be fine without you for now. Just make sure to be back within in the hour.”

“O-okay.”

Paul draped his bare arm around your shoulders. His arm was deceptively heavy despite him not being ripped but you found that the weight felt nice. He was also cold. Maybe since he wasn’t wearing a jacket. Your newfound closeness also gave you a good view of his abdomen through the flimsy black mesh tank top. It was a nice view.

He chattered away as you crossed the parking lot and you tried to keep up with the conversation. He was a little much to take in, but he was friendly. You could see why your aunt had taken to him. Meanwhile, the two of you drew ever nearer to the truck.  

It was easier to appreciate the paint job up close. The window cover was cracked open, but not propped open all the way. Mouthwatering smells drifted out with the sizzle of grill smoke

An ocean sunset dominated the truck, the base was mainly pink and accompanied by a mirage of other colors: oranges and purples in the sky of the setting sun which transition to neutral tones and blues at the bottom where the sand and water was.

Simply put, it was beautiful to look at and a very artistic portrayal.

It was obviously done by hand but you didn’t mean that in a derogatory way. Whoever did it was definitely skilled.

Paul reluctantly pulled his arm off so he could get the door.

You hesitated. Paul was an experience all on his own and now you were going to meet another new person. Would they be just as hyper? Or would they be incensed that you were interrupting them? Between those two choices, you weren’t sure which was worse.

The uncertainty must’ve been on your face because Paul aimed his million-watt smile at you. “Come on, baby. I promise he won’t bite. Much.”

It wasn’t fair that you could melt so completely with a simple pet name. Being called baby was all it took to get you to climb the small set of stairs leading into the food truck.

“Welcome aboard Frenchie!” he said with flourish, bowing in comical exaggeration.

“Frenchie?” you asked confused. “I thought you said you guys did tacos.”

“And we do. But Frenchie is the truck.” He stroked the pink fuzzy dice hanging from the rear-view mirror affectionately. “She’s the best.”

He hadn’t really answered your question but you let it go for the moment. You didn’t want to make him feel bad by pressing him.

A voice from the other end of the truck reminded you that Paul’s friend was there, too. “It’s Frenchie cause she’s a pink lady.”

You considered that. It was true, the truck did have a lot of pink paint. The corners of your lips curled up. The name was actually cute now that you knew the understood the Grease reference. The corners of your lips curled up.

In return, the curly haired blonde smirked behind his gloved thumb. “Oi, Paul,” Paul looked up from the radio he was messing with, “You didn’t tell me you were gonna bring a babe back.”

“I didn’t plan to, honest!” he swore. “I went in to hit up Mama and found them there.”

“She’s my aunt,” you explained lamely. “I just started working with her.”

His eyes tracked over you quickly and normally you would’ve assumed that he was checking you out but he didn’t give you that vibe. It was almost like he was…cataloguing you? That was best way to describe it though it still didn’t seem completely right.

Whatever the reasoning for his stares, you must have passed because he offered up his name. “I’m Marko, head honcho of our beloved Frenchie. Welcome to our—"

“Hey, who said you were in charge? What if I want to be the head poncho?” Paul interrupted, offended.

“Paul,” Marko growled. “I fixed the truck up, I buy the supplies, and I do all the cooking! And it’s honcho, not poncho.”

Paul’s face relaxed. “That’s what I meant. And I guess you’re right about that stuff. Alright, you’re in charge. But I’m the best business partner you could ask for!”

“Noted,” Marko said with a roll of his eyes, although it was clear he wasn’t actually annoyed. “Here, come help me prep.”

You sat on top of one of their freezers to give them room to work. They were definitely violating some staff hygiene health codes (not a hairnet in sight and they definitely hadn’t been washing their hands) but they were fun to watch. Their banter made you comfortable.

The blondes moved together smoothly, joking at times and bickering at others. It was a testament to how familiar they were with one another. Whereas Paul was a puppy, Marko was more akin to a fox: reserved to be sure, but no less mischievous than his friend.

Marko pointed to a section of the grill where Paul was working on some carne asada. “Flip that, it needs to cook evenly.”

Paul did it with no problem and continued telling the story of how exactly he came to acquire the fuzzy pink dice. “Okay, so there was this hot guy at a game stall, so obviously I got in line—”

“I told you to flip that, man,” Marko said again, poking Paul in the ribs with the handle of his cutting knife. “It’s gonna be too well done now.”

Paul elbowed him back on reflex. “I did! And it’s not my fault you didn’t say to flip all of the steak, just that one part so that’s what I did.”

‘You should no the drill by now. Don’t get caught up impressing the babe.”

“Don’t embarrass me, butt munch!” Paul yelled.  

The knife stopped dicing jalapeños and Marko tossed out, “Ass wipe!”

At that point you stepped in wanting to avoid a potential argument. “I should get back to the store, I’m sure they could use my help.” That paused the name calling.

“Boo! It hasn’t been an hour yet. Your aunt said you had an hour.”

Even Marko seemed reluctant to let you leave. “Yeah, don’t feel like you have to go. Promise we’ll be on best behavior.”

Somehow, you weren’t convinced the best behavior would last long. And you really should go back. You didn’t want to other employees to think you were getting special treatment because you were related to the owner. Which you kind of were, but you didn’t want to make a habit of slacking off.

Paul snapped his fingers. “Idea. How about I introduce you to everyone else?”

Oh, you’d thought it was just the two blondes who worked in the truck. It seemed a tight space to have much more than two people working at once but who were you to question it.

“Good idea, Paul.” Marko high-fived him. “If they’re working here at the strip, they might as well meet everyone.”

Your protests fell on deaf ears and in a matter of minutes you were once more being dragged by Paul. The guy could be strong when he wanted to be.

“Hold one, I forgot something,” he said suddenly bounding back into Frenchie. You heard him mutedly yell, “Shit stain!” and then a loud crash and some curses from Marko as Paul ran out and returned to your side. “Okay, we’re good to go.”

Fully opening the concessions window, Marko called out to you. “Nice meeting you, Y/N. Come back and hang with us sometime.”

Y/N? You couldn’t figure out why saying your name unsettled you until you realized you’d never told him your name. And Paul had called you baby the whole time so how had he—?

There wasn’t much time to ponder that before you were in front of the store to the left of Between the Pies. You had seen it when you pulled into the parking lot earlier that night but hadn’t paid it much attention. Large, red glowing lights high above the door spelled out, Gnarly.

“Gnarly?” you read aloud with a raised brow.

Paul nodded so fast he looked like a bobble head. “Yeah. You’ll love Dwayne, he’s a cool guy.”

A small bell chimed as you entered. Well, the name was certainly appropriate. Surf boards and skateboards of all colors covered the walls. A familiar Led Zeppelin tune played softly over the store speakers. Some customers quietly meandered through, admiring the different merchandise.

The laid-back energy was definitely a change from the in-your-face liveliness of the taco truck.

“Yo big guy, where are you at?” Paul said in his jovial voice.

You were sure where you expected him to come from, but it surely wasn’t from the floor behind the main counter.

A messy head of wild, dark hair popped up over the counter and turned toward you. Even more surprising than the fact that he had been lying down on the floor was the fact that his chest was completely bared. He pulled himself up nonchalantly, muscles rippling.

You averted your gaze in a late attempt to make sure your ogling wasn’t too obvious.

Not wasting a second, Paul went over and hugged him, slapping the brunette’s back in quick succession. “How are you, big guy? It’s been a while.”

“It’s been two hours,” he replied deadpan.

It wasn’t clear if he meant to come off as funny as he did, but you couldn’t contain the chuckle that broke through your lips. Dry humor was always appreciated. In this case, it was even more comical in that it contrasted nicely with Paul’s personality.

Hearing your choked laughter, his intense eyes lasered in on you, spearing you where you stood. You hoped you hadn’t angered him. Trying to redeem yourself, you waved shyly. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I work next door.”

“Between the Pies?” he said in realization.

“Yep. Y/N is the owner’s family. I’m giving the welcome tour.” Paul’s voice trailed off as his focus shifted to a rack of shelled necklaces on the counter. “These are sweet.”

He ditched you in favor of the shells, turning the jewelry this way and that. The shirtless boy shook his head. Turning back towards you, he stuck his hand out. “Dwayne. The owner of Gnarly.”

You returned the shake, his fingers cold against yours. “Wow! An owner at your age? That’s impressive.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m older than I look.”

You looked him over critically. “Twenties? Thirties?”

“Something like that.” The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, just enough so you knew it was a smile.

Paul had moved to the tees and struck up a conversation with a fellow customer. You browsed the walls and Dwayne followed. There was such a wide variety of both color and design, and you complimented him on successfully running the store.

Then you found a board that surprised you. “Is that Che Guevara? On a skateboard?”

Dwayne followed your gaze to the red and back board that sported the famed image of the Latino radical. He took it down so you could get a closer look.

The paint was smooth to the touch and the design followed nicely. You spun the front wheels with a flick of your finger. “Not many people would be brave enough to display skateboards with Marxist revolutionaries on them.”

“I’m fan of his actually.”

“I can see the appeal. He was a multitalented man, rest in peace.” You handed the board over to him. “He’d probably get a kick out this.”

He took it from you and gently hung it up on the wall. “Are you into politics then?”

“I don’t know if I necessarily identify as a communist or anything, but I find it interesting. Some of their beliefs might even be beneficial to adopt.”

That was all he needed to hear. He took you by the hand and lead you to the far wall. The boards he was interested in showing you were obvious.

“Is that who I think it is?”

“It is.”

An orange board with yellow swirls prominently featured a young Angela Davis, her huge hair unmistakable, in all her glory. At that point you started to notice a few others in the mix. A Red Power Movement logo on one, the image of a meditating Gandhi on another.

“You have quite the collection here, Dwayne. I’m surprised the landlord lets you put these up.”

“Trust me, he’s not a fan. They sell though and that’s what he’s most concerned about. Even if they didn’t I’d still put them up.”

Underneath his stoic manner, there was passion. The interest and determination in choosing these boards made that plain. His many facets made you want to get to know him better. You could’ve talked for hours but it only came out to another fifteen minutes before Paul found his way back to you.

“Ready to head next door?”

You hadn’t even seen the surfboard section but Dwayne probably needed to get back to work and Paul needed to move. Already he was fidgeting in place. Half-heartedly, you agreed. “Bye Dwayne.”

He shook your hand again, lingering with a slow caress to your knuckles. Butterflies which had been dormant during the rest of your time with Dwayne, emerged from their chrysalises and fluttered insistently. “Until next time.”

The tone of his voice stayed with you even after you left. Paul giggled at you and swung your combined hands in between the two of you. “Told you that you’d like him. The big guy is smooth.”

He was right. And he’d been right about Marko. Hopefully, he’d be right about the next one, too.

“Where to next?” you asked in apprehension.

“To the Treasure Trove, duh! I definitely wouldn’t take you to Video Max, that’d be a punishment.”

Video Max was the rental place on the other side of your aunt’s store, the last business in the row of the strip. You’d been there a ages ago with friends. It hadn’t seemed that bad but Paul had a reason for avoiding it, and you’d come to trust his judgement enough.

You weren’t exactly sure what the deal with Treasure Trove was. Unlike the rest of the stores, and the taco truck, this one had all the windows blocked out so you couldn’t see inside from the parking lot. One of the windows did have a display but it was backed by black on all sides.  An ornate treasure chest sat opened with glittering things spilling out.

You’d never spared the display a second look but now that you were in front of it, you stopped to examine it. There was plenty of jewelry as you expected, strings of pearls, diamonds, and stones of other colors. They couldn’t have been real stones though. With the lack of security in the area, they would’ve been ripe for theft.

Other items blended in so well that you almost didn’t notice them. Iridescent scraps of silk and lace that looked to be dresses of some sort. A blinged out pair of handcuffs which seemed out of place to you. Lastly, a glossy leather officer’s cap. Not a typical pirate hat, but you were sure you’d seen skippers on the bay wearing something similar.

There was definitely a treasure theme so you were curious to see what kind of store it was. Perhaps s sea related place or a place for costumes.

Paul was about to open the door, but was beat to it when someone pushed the door to exit. At first you thought he was a customer but then Paul whooped and moved in for a hug. “David!”

The bleached blonde stopped him with a hand to the shoulder. “Paul.” His icy eyes were on you and you felt a shiver from his intensity alone. “Who’s this?” he questioned casually though his demeanor was anything but casual.

“Yeah, this is Y/N from Between the Pies. I’m giving them the grand tour. Y/N this is the owner of the Treasure Trove.”

You considered it a victory that you were able to nod your head in affirmation. You voice was in short supply at the moment.

David put a cigarette in his mouth and struck a match, holding the flame until the paper lit up. “Is that so?”

The boys looked at you to see what you would say, but other than a cough and nod, you stayed quiet. The bleached hair and black trench coat look alone would’ve intimated you, but David seemed like the kind of intelligent personality to tease and goad. You were wary of giving into him.

The plan backfired though and he pounced on your fear. He took a cool drag and blew the smoke in your direction, the smell of tobacco tickling your nose. “Welcome to the club, sweetheart.”

You could’ve died on the spot. It seemed that all of the boys liked to use pet names, one of your major weaknesses. You definitely had to grow thicker skin if you were going to be working at the strip mall. If you didn’t, you were likely to have a heart attack.

Paul was no help either as he stood there laughing. The goofball was naturally laidback but in David’s presence, he seemed down right subservient. The owner of this mysterious shop apparently had that affect on people.

It got worse when Marko yelled from where he hung out of the truck. “Paul! We open in five, get your butt back here.”

He pouted, not wanting to leave but a glance from David had Paul moving on the double. “Adios, baby!”

Alone with David, you rubbed your arm nervously and kept your eyes glued to the window display.

“So…the Treasure Trove, huh? What do you do exactly?”

“Pardon?” He looked to be in disbelief.

“It’s not exactly obvious.” You may be a bit afraid of him but you weren’t going to let him make you feel stupid. “The display matches the name though, so you might be a sea store. My other guess is a costume shop of some sort.”

He took a long drag. Exhaled. Cocked his head. “You really don’t know, do you.”

You were tempted to make a witty retort but refrained; something in his energy told you it wouldn’t end well if you started a fight.

A predatory grin spread across his face and he held the door open with a gloved leather hand. “We can still finish the tour, if you want.”

Suddenly, you understood perfectly how Eve was drawn in by the serpent. Who could resist such an offer when the snake was eerily magnetic and the offer to explore so temping? Possibilities started playing in your mind. Acceptance was heavy on your tongue.

On the verge of entering, a car horn honked from the road, distracting you and the desire was abruptly cut off. You breathed sharply and took one step backward, then one more. You were so caught up, you hadn’t realized that you put a foot over the threshold.

Spooked you stuttered through an apology. “I need to get back to the shop, sorry. I’ve been gone long enough as it is.”

“Another time then,” he said with finality, letting the door close.

“Sure. Yes. Another time.” Not that you really meant it. Waving goodbye, you concentrated on walking steady, his gaze hot on your back the whole way.

David stood outside, still on smoke break. A puff lit up the end of the cigarette in a fiery orange glow.

He decided that he liked you. Never before had someone not figured out what the Treasure Trove actually was. It was kinda cute. The boys liking you basically sealed the deal. There was no way you’d get rid of any of them now.

Powers Strip Mall just became a whole lot more interesting.

_______________

Hopefully this was fun! I had a good time writing it. Marko and Paul are the best, and worst, of business partners. Dwayne’s living his best life promoting radical ideology to the surfing and skating community. And I could totally see David having a sex shop haha. I have so many thoughts...should I continue this AU? 

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL

May 2021 Wk 3

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

It’s a cray cray Friday when Vietnam gets its eng subs up before GMMTV Thailand. What alter-reality are we in? Well, the Vietnamese offerings are better right now anyway. (Oooo, feel that burn.) 

Ongoing Series - Thai

Top Secret Together Ep 2 - pulping it up in the best possible way. Sure sound and production values are pants, and in classic Thai fashion the editing in post is exacerbating (rather than fixing) pacing issues, but it’s still CUTE AF. I don’t even mind the added university storyline, because they’ve got good chemistry (and a confident gay fresher after a panicked gay hazer is an old favorite... what can I say, SOTUS was my first love). We aren’t spending too much time with any one couple, so it’s weighted a lot better than Brothers was, but also character development is slow. 

Siew Sum Noi Ep 2 - Unfortunately, it’s just too hard to find, plus no subs. I’m dropping it in the hopes it comes back on my radar some day. 

Y-Destiny Ep 8 - (Thurs) It’s rough having a ghost boyfriend, half your friends are scared, the other half think you’re crazy, and kissing shortens your lifespan. This was a cute couple even if I wasn’t wild about the surrounding story. 

Close Friend Ep 5: (Dear My Star/JimmyTommy) - about high school penpals. It had to rely entirely on voice over work as the actors only meet face to face at the end. It’s a good thing they are appealing screen presences on their own, with good vocal control. It’s hard to imagine any other BL pair carrying this kinda plot. It’s by far my favorite of the series so far, and I’m not even a big JimmyTommy fan. 

Fish Upon The Sky Ep 7 - no subs. Do we care? Not really. Because we have... 

Nitiman Ep 3 - currently my favorite out of Thailand. It’s the university Thai BL i’ve been waiting for since... when was the last good one? My Engineer? Yowza. Anyway we got: head on my shoulder, baby is a floppy drunk (but still wants to be in control), proximity alert, boyfriend’s closet, seme gets seriously jelly, and a cute twist on feeding him. There’s something fun and complex about Jin’s character. He’s not a panicked bi. He knows exactly what’s going on, he just hasn’t decided if he wants Bb or not. He clearly enjoys being looked after, the compliments, and the attention, but he’s not sure if he’s going to like what happens if he gives in. I like that twist on the usual tsundere uke archetype a lot, cautious rather than willfully obtuse or freaked out. We can see Jin realizing in stages: I like this person, I like that they like me, I like the romantic attentiveness. But in the background is... do I actually want to f*k him? It’s a dynamic we don’t often see on BL. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 10 fin - the most ridiculous show using BLs worst tropes in a sort of weird smoothie of bitter greens and too ripe banana. The ending was the sappiest cheesiest thing ever, like cheese syrup tapped from the cheese tree. So of course I loved it, but I’m pretty sure I giggled through all the bits meant to be profound. Because, in the end, to tolerate this show at all, you just can’t take ANY of it seriously. RECOMMENDED (with some SERIOUS reservations and trigger warnings.) Full review here. 

Be Loved in House: I Do (Taiwan) Ep 1-2 - I don’t mind a damaged seme character but this one is a bit weird for me. Like creepy Cheese in the Trap level weird. On the bright side, the story has given our tsundere uke good motivation for his angst and great existing friendships, loyalty, and likability. Plus I’m invested in the cafe owner/innocent puppy side dishes. So if it’s only the seme character I’m not jiving with, and he’s the most established actor, it should all turn out fine. I believe in you, Taiwanese BL. 

Papa & Daddy (Taiwan) Ep 6 fin - speaking of belief. This such a good show but they gave us a cliffhanger ending. Now we must hope against hope for season two. That’s never guaranteed with Taiwan tho. So, I’m docking a few points and saying, RECOMMENDED so long as you realize it’s a cliffhanger. 

Love is Science? (Taiwan) Ep 1-9 (BL subplot) - this is a good het romance, but the fact that the BL subplot is a beautifully acted disaster bi + confident gay means you’re hearing about it whether you want to or not. Plus they just added in some GL! Come on! I gotta support Taiwan normalizing queer to this extent. They are fighting the good fight and if I also have to watch a career lady and her much younger softest straight boi get it on, too? Twist my arm with that service sub subtext. Go on Taiwan, TWIST IT. It’s on Viki. Join the revolution.   * Incidentally if you actually like the D/s het dynamic of this show, I highly recommend Japanese Kimi wa Petto - career woman keeps a hot young dancer boy as a pet. Oh yes, an actual pet, that IS the pitch. Never doubt Japan when kink is on the line. It’s also on Viki. Go get your kink on, thank me later. (If it helps: That was not a request.)  

Most Peaceful Place 2 (Vietnam) Ep 2 (AKA 5) - love triangles aren’t my thing, but if you’re gonna do it short form, by all means bring in the lead’s other BL pairing so the chemistry is on point. Now I've no idea who I want him to end up with. Can’t they just be in a poly triad? 

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam) Ep 7 - I’m still enjoying it a lot. It’s still unabashedly queer and the tension is ramping up. We now have secret identity, blackmail, femme fatale, faen fatale, and incoming seme confrontation. Best of all, the series is still airing, which makes it longer than any other Vietnamese BL I’ve seen (aside from Tein Bromance - which is just too weird to count). 

Gossip - Thai BL 

SEVEN PROJECT TEASERS

No one is entirely sure what Studio Wabi Sabi’s Seven Project/7Project will entail. 

It might be like Close Friend (1 episode per couple, no linking), 

or Y-Destiny (2 episodes per couple, loosely linked), 

or The En of Love (4 episodes per couple, linked but independent consecutive stories). 

They’re giving the couple’s arcs separate titles. So each one would be what? Seven Project: Once Upon a Time or the like? We’re in Taiwanese title territory people and NO ONE WANTS TO GO THERE. Anygay... 

Once Upon a Time is the BounPrem (og UWMA) anchor story, and seems to be the most dramatic and likely saddest. These two can handle most of what’s thrown at them at this juncture, so it should be good. 

Vs Love is a BoomPeak (og Make it Right) university vehicle. Since I thought Boom was done with our nonsense, I couldn’t be more thrilled and surprised this pair is doing another show together. I don’t think either of them are the greatest actors but I find Peak very endearing and Boom charismatic on screen, so I’ll watch. 

Would You be My Love is the hotly anticipated SantaEarth launch. They’re a (cultivated) IRL ship and Earth is an established BL actor. They have great chemistry and high energy so this could be lots of fun. 

We are also getting a GL from this series from established BL actresses Samantha and Pineare. Nothing teased yet on that, but I’m looking forward to this installment the most. Also curious to see how the ladies handle the branding and promo side, not to mention the culture. (Thailand variety shows gonna force *girls* to play the Pepero game?) 

Secret Crush on You upcoming Thai BL with no release date, co-produced by and featuring (but NOT staring) Saint and directed by Cheewin (sigh) with all fresh faces. (Previously known as Stalker the series.) It looks like pure pulp and I’m not wild about the plot but could be better than expected as it’s adapted from a novel. Cheewin is an okay director when he has an actual story to follow. 

Don’t Say No the series. Coming from the producers of TharnType this is the JaFirst vehicle many have been waiting for. Friends to lovers + a good boy/bad boy pairing on a sports romance foundation. It’s basketball so they tapped Meen as well (he’s semi-pro). The bad news? You get one guess as to who is writing the darn thing? Yep it’s MAME. So, ya know, expect some slam dunk kidnapping, a light dribbling of rape, and me turning into a basketcase. AKA... 

Will I have to live blog this series in order to survive it? That seems to be the only way I can. So probably. Which means the bad sports puns will continue. Look, if I’m suffering, SO ARE YOU! 

Rumors of a new YinWar vehicle The Best Story (mini series) coming in July. Also rumors that their previously announced Love Mechanics (full length series) has either been delayed, is facing money issues, or is moving studios, or all three. 

Breaking News 

DELAYED (I’m talking these three off the watch list until we get new airing dates) 

Love Area’s release was pushed out but it got a trailer. 

Golden Blood was supposed to drop Weds but comments in MDL report that it is delayed due to C19.  

Love’s Outlet (Taiwan) is supposed to have started a 50 episode run (only 3-5 min each, what utter nonsense). Sadly, this delay is due to a surge in cases in Taiwan which was doing so well, but also doesn’t have many inoculations. 

Bad Buddy has started workshopping at GMMTV actual. 

Kang Insoo’s BTS for Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding is SO FLIPPING CUTE. You have to watch it. Trust me, I don’t rec behind the scenes stuff often. 

Next Week Looks Like This: 

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

[lag1995-fics]

Hi!! May I request a dadneto fic of them calling each other dad and son for the first time? 🥰

Of course my love I’m a total sucker for dadneto. ❤️❤️❤️ I hope you enjoy

Dad.

Summary: Peter didn’t need a dad and he was sure Erik didn’t want a loser like him for a son. His father had already had the perfect family and had them snatched from him. Peter like he usually is was wrong.

Warnings: Peter has low self worth and anxiety. There’s a bit of angst but nothing heart wrenching. I don’t even think I cursed this time but I might have.

Pairing: there isn’t one just some good old fashioned father, son bonding. Maybe Cherik if you squint and turn your head to the left.

Words: 1408

Masterlist

Rules

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Peter had been avoiding Erik like the plague since the older mutant had moved into the school to help with construction. Peter may be twenty seven but telling someone they missed out on twenty seven years of their child’s life wasn’t an easy thing to do. Peter knew if he couldn’t tell the man at the end of the world then it probably wasn’t going to happen.

His issue was he had already opened his fat mouth to Raven who kept trying to trap them in a room alone together. She had even gotten Charles in on it. Sure Erik had a right to know he had another child but it shouldn’t be Peter's responsibility to inform the man he had a child much less adult twins. His mother had really dropped the ball on that one.

Peter was content to just continue living his life as if everything was the same as always. He didn’t need a dad, he was a grown ass man at this point. He was afraid the information would only make Erik even more depressed. He had seen a picture of Nina in his snooping and he had determined that the tiny girl was everything he wasn’t.

She was beautiful with a tiny freckled nose and big blue eyes. She couldn’t be a loser like her big brother who up until a couple of months ago had still been living in his mother’s basement. Why would Erik want someone like him in his life much less as a son.

“Peter you’re spiraling” The professor's voice echoed through his head and Peter groaned frustrated. He pounded on his ear like he had water caught inside.

“Peter you should tell him I can be there with you if you’d like” The professor's meddling voice came again causing Peter to lose that round of Ms. Pac-Man.

“You see Professor, I would do that but I know he doesn’t want a loser basement dweller for a kid.” Peter shot back turning up his music even louder letting the voice of his generation sweep over him. David Bowie was a king and nobody could tell him otherwise.

“Peter, you aren’t a loser, you took on Apocalypse by yourself and lived to tell about it, rather loudly I might add. You also are starting a teaching position here in the fall. You are such a good kind hearted person don’t degrade yourself that way.” Charles scolded. This was an ongoing argument between the two men and it never seemed to change his mind.

“I mean, is a P.E. Teacher even a real teacher Professor?” Peter asked.

“Physical Education is a very important role in children’s lives”Charles retorted to the unconvinced twenty-something. Peter could feel the frustration bubbling up inside him. He jerked in surprise when his watch that was laying on the side table forgotten began to vibrate. He snatched it clasping it around his wrist taking deep even breaths just trying to calm down.

So he inherited more than just the x-gene from his father. He had a secondary mutation, that was just great. He would have to be even more cautious than he already was. He knew Raven would try to trigger this in front of Erik if she found out. Which she would with her brother being a freaking mind reader.

***

“I need all staff members to my office for a staff meeting” Charles' voice echoed loudly in his head. He zipped to the office finding that Charles and Erik were already there. He should have taken his time and the tension could be cut with a knife.

“Peter, how are you? I haven’t seen you around much” Erik greeted the silver haired mutant politely.

“Oh you know I’ve just been around” Peter waved him off and he could feel the professor’s eyes burning into him like Scott’s lasers.

“Peter did you know that Erik will be staying on a our new foreign language professor?” Charles asked and Peter could once again feel the frustration start to bubble up.

“Really? I thought the government gave you an island or something?” Peter asked pointedly, ignoring the professor’s smug grin.

“Well I decided that I should stay, one thing apocalypse was right about was mutants needing to stick together” Erik explained and Peter was suddenly regretting taking this job.

“Isn’t it delightful Erik is fluent in so many languages German, Russian, French, Spanish, and even Polish. Peter isn’t your mother originally from the Ukraine?” Peter wanted to glare at the older man but couldn’t...not without giving himself away at least.

“No she’s originally from Poland she moved to the Ukraine after being liberated with my ciotka” Peter bit out unknowingly feeding Erik valuable information.

“You are Jewish?” Peter wanted to run, he supposed he had Jewish blood he had known his father was Jewish.

“Romani” Peter answered shortly, trying to hint that he didn’t want to talk about it. He also wasn’t technically lying to be Jewish your mother technically had to be Jewish.

“And your last name is Maximoff?” Peter could feel the anxiety build up in his throat cursing his seventeen year old self for dropping the fact that his mother quote “knew someone who could control metal”.

Erik began staring hard at the boy taking in his features. He began to see a resemblance to Magda, his ex wife. He tried to explain it away he was probably Marya’s child, but how likely was it that Marya would give birth to a child with a mutation. He knew that Django and her husband didn’t have any mutation that he knew about.

Erik’s calculating gaze only served to push Peter that much closer to an anxiety attack. He could feel his already swift heart rate pick up even faster with his emotions. He could feel the cool metal of the watch hum and he fought the anxiety. The last thing Peter needed was to give Erik another clue. Controlling metal would be like a neon sign yelling I’m your son.

“Your mother was her name Marya or Magda?” Erik asked, still studying the nervous man. With his mother’s name all the metal in the professor’s office began to hum and vibrate. Peter began internally cussing as Erik’s eyes went wide. He started to bolt out the door but was held in place by his watch and the zipper on his jacket.

“Peter” was all Erik could say and suddenly Peter began to wonder if the professor hadn’t called the staff meeting and only let him and Erik know. That was something he should have expected from Raven not the professor. It seemed being a meddling meddler ran in their family.

“Uh yeah?” He nervously rubbed the back of his neck trying to get the metal in the room to stop vibrating.

“Your mother, her name was Magda” Erik remarked, it was a statement not a question. He couldn’t help but wish the Wanda was here with him. She had always been the smarter twin.

“Ummm yeah” he confessed. Erik’s face looked like a cross between anguish and pure joy. Anguish that he had missed so much of his child’s life and joy that he had been reunited with said child. This was Anya’s baby brother and Nina’s elder brother. Erik knew that he would protect Peter with all of his might from now on. Erik would not waste another moment.

“My son” Erik’s voice was thick with emotion as he started down his adult child. Peter went to look at Charles for help but cursed when he saw that the wheelchair bound man had excused himself without Peter or Erik noticing.

Erik staggered forward wrapping his arms around the man and Peter melted. Peter may not have needed a father but that wasn’t to say he didn’t want one. He had always craved male companionship, he had always looked forward to visiting his aunt and uncle as a child. This was different though this man was his father, something his uncle Django tried to be for him but never really could. Erik’s hug was warm and safe and strong and he suddenly felt like he was fifteen years old again.

“Dad,” he muttered, finally squeezing the older man back fighting back tears. He had thought Erik would be angry, that he would think that Peter was trying to replace Nina. Erik wasn’t angry though, Erik was relieved he had his family. His family might not be whole but at least he had part of it.

“You have my mother’s eyes” Erik informed him, as he pulled back to further examine Peter’s face. Peter had always thought that his eyes were a dull brown, he had always wished they were bright like his mother and sister’s were. He supposed this was better, if he had his grandmother's eyes that meant that a part of her lived on.

Peter knew that he needed to inform Erik of Wanda, but that could wait a few more moments. For now all Peter wanted to do was soak in his father’s acceptance and love at least for a moment

Thank you please feel free to request.