#and she has given me GIFTS as well as like. occasional food items and also tips which i never get

[selchwife]

Voice of man reading emetwol fic again. some thoughts.

ive seen like two fics like this thus far and am beginning to suspect it may be a subgenre: WoL, in the timeline where black rose happened, is still alive for some reason and is essentially coerced into marrying emet in order to assure it is not used, all while the garlean empire is occupying like, peak wealth and status rather than slowly cannibalizing itself like a pack of miserable wolves delirious from the stress of long-term captivity.

am noticing a pattern (inasmuch as noticing the same element present twice is “noticing a pattern”) where in these fics wol is presented with like extremely desirable material goods and services but turns them down or chafes against them because they’re extensions of emet’s hospitality, and she kind of hates him. this in and of itself is kind of part of a repeated theme i see with him where he’s able to provide all sorts of material items or benefits and has no real compunctions about giving extremely lavish gifts, but in order to maintain the illusion of social propriety and lack of materialism these are usually forced on WoL rather than graciously accepted by her.

and it kind of makes me think, like, certainly i agree being materialistic is not a desirable trait, but what’s wrong with appreciating things that people offer you? i have a bunch of like…extenuating circumstances, in my case, that can make accepting generosity (especially of the material sort) difficult, because i’m an abuse victim and spent a lot of my formative years in poverty, and i think the idea that accepting gifts or wanting anything at all makes you materialist is certainly a contributing factor (interesting also how often it’s accompanied by the idea that resigning oneself to poverty is morally aspirational, something something propaganda!)

ultimately im kind of at the point where like. Reluctance in accepting gifts is real, especially in people for whom gifts were weaponized somehow or who don’t value themselves or are uncomfortable with extravagant gifts because of prior experiences with poverty or who have moral OCD about materialistic behavior or whatever else, and i don’t mind that in fiction or whatever, but i do think maybe in a more general sense shaming material desires or playing coy about them isn’t the way, either. I’ll Admit It: as a poor and disabled person, even given my difficulties around receiving or accepting gifts (depending on the person giving this can range from mild guilt to legitimate panic attacks), i would love to have nice things to wear, and an attractive and well-kept place to live, and total food security, and help with tasks of daily living, and the occasional totally useless pretty trinket. That would be awesome. why should i not want that, and why should i not entertain a fantasy where a loving and safe person can provide those things to me out of a simple desire to see me be well, without coercion or abuse involved?

and yes, like, I do understand that in the case of fic about emet and garlemald those are all certainly ill-gotten gains, but the framing is almost always like UGH, MY GILDED CAGE! i GUESS i’ll eat this delicious food and wear this beautiful dress and sleep in this wonderfully appointed safe and warm shelter :/ as opposed to like Wow, this is the luxury he’s killing the world for!, so im fairly sure that is not the reason for the heroine-as-extension-of-author’s rejection of said wealth

like idk just. Having people who are eager to do nice stuff for me and trying to balance my weird neuroses with not wanting to let them down is starting to highlight for me not only the flaws in them but the way i think typical platitudes about materialism are in effect less often used to chide the economically comfortable and more often used to dissuade the poor from wanting to like, escape the hand-to-mouth living and exploitation that comes with being part of the have-not underclass in society

[milfsco]

today is one of my favorite dogs birthday and her mom (my favorite client) forgot and when i mentioned it this morning she started like slapping my arm (affectionately) and thanking me for reminding her and then when i brought her dog back from daycare she had gone out and bought cupcakes for me and my dog and i gave her a card i made for her dog + a toy for her dog and she got all happy and hugged me and told me she was gonna text me what the cupcake flavors were. and then she immediately did that and i sent her photos and videos of her dog from today and she told me i’m soooo amazing. anyway. when is she gonna confess her love for m

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

Fic idea

Everybody lives/Nobody dies AU set during the restoration of Erebor

Every able body has a job because its the beginning of winter and if they want to move into the mountain before it snows they have to clear it and patch any outer holes pretty fast

Bilbo can't do much because he's not as physically strong as a dwarf so he helps the wounded for a while and after that ends up in charge of food distribution and because hes the only one with the patience and (drilled in) manners ends up being the diplomatic negotiator when it comes to getting the food

and occasionally other items because dwarves dont want to deal with elves and elves dont want to deal with dwarves

So Thorin has recovered enough to start being a king again and it takes him a while (since hes either struggling to move about or sitting in meetings he cant run from) but he eventually realizes Bilbo has ended up with most of the work and duties assigned to the Queen Consort

Thorin feels all warm inside but he feels bad that Bilbo doesnt know about all this and decides he'll tell him next time he sees him...

...except next few times he sees him Thorin can't get him alone or Thorin gets called away. And then Thorin makes the mistake of imagining what it would be like if Bilbo was his consort... and never gets around to telling him because this way Thorin can keep playing pretend

This comes back to bite him of course because all his decisions do eventually

Way back when his grandfather was on the throne and they still had their kingdom Thorin's family set him up in a arranged marriage. It fell through after Smaug and last Thorin knew she was betrothed to some other dwarf

Well turns out he died before they ever got married and now that Thorin is on the throne and has his kingdom back her and her parents want to revive the engagement

They show up and Thorin obviously doesnt want to do this. He hasnt even fully recovered enough to actually bask in his glory and happiness. His largest argument against it is that Fili and Kili are already his heirs, and since arranged marriages are only created to ensure the continuation of the royal line (with the whole 1/3 population being female and therefore scarce) theres no need

Why all that is happening shes ambitious and tracks down Bilbo and asks to be included in the affairs, since is to be the Queen and he is doing the Queen's duties

Which of course Bilbo didnt know about as theres no royalty in the Shire

Thorin doesnt know she did this until she comes into a meeting with Bilbo since shes shadowing him (well as much as a Queen-to-be can shadow)

Thorin is angry. Bilbo looks mad. Thorin is now scared.

He thinks Bilbo is mad he's been doing a job equal to the King's workload and nobody told him. Thorin knows he shouldve given Kili that job as soon as he was recovered (since Fili as Crown Prince is shadowing Thorin) or got over his little fantasies and told Bilbo himself

Bilbo is actually mad that 1) Thorin is getting married and no one told him (which isnt actually confirmed but the bride acts like it is) 2) Thorin has been engaged this whole time (not true) 3) she keeps messing with his system and his charts

Bilbo as a hobbit has had manners drilled into his very core so of course he's "willing" to work with Thorin's betrothed for hours each day. Of course he acts like everything is fine. Of course he says nothing bad about her to her soon-to-be family

So of course Thorin (and Fili and Kili and Dis if shes there) think Bilbo is perfectly fine and any irritation he has is coming from having to keep adjusting his schedule and his system. Or elves. You can always count on elves to ruin your day

Then to Thorin's horror it starts to look like theyre becoming friends

Once Bilbo gets over the greatest of his itty-bitty (ha!) heartbreak he actually likes her. He really tries not to.

When that happens Thorin decides hes got to put a stop to this and puts his foot down. He is the king and his word is final. He is not getting married.

After that whole fiasco Bilbo is mad at him again 1) he has to adjust his system again to get it back where it was since hes obviously gonna have to go back to doing this himself without a partner 2) Thorin has no tact and now Bilbo and several others are scrambling to fix this mess 3) Thorin will marry someone eventually, and now the pain is being drawn out

Also Thorin never specified why he doesnt want to marry her and that brings up its own set of problems (such as insulting her whole house)

The company sends Biblo in to get answers on that last one because apparently hes the only one other than Dis that can drag answers out of him, and Dis knows but wont tell them.

Its the end of a very long day, Bilbo does not want to do this. Thorin really doesnt want to deal with this anymore tonight. Neither get what they want

Thorin says things that make this worse because of course he did

Anyways Thorin doesnt get his act together until hes informed that Bilbo has made preparations to leave mid-spring

Thorin is heartbroken which means he does one of two things: get angry and in your face, or get silent and isolate himself

Its only mid-winter now which means if someone doesnt do something this is gonna drag out another 3-4 months

Bilbo still goes around and sees his friends and basically ignores Thorin because he will not have the last weeks with the greatest friends he'll ever have get passed up because hes moping around over being in love with a king. A dwarf king. A king of incredibly secretive people. Most of his people dont trust him with anything beyond broad organization. As if he stood a chance

The days start getting longer which mean feasts will happen soon which mean Bilbo and Thorin have to actually talk to each other one-on-one

Thorin ends up swallowing his pride and apologizing. Goes back to what he thinks is the beginning of all this and also apologizes for not telling Bilbo about consort duties which gets Bilbo all confused because what does that have to do with anything? Unless its him making assumptions about hobbits? So Thorin has to explain why he didnt tell him that he was doing the consort's duties

Bilbo is all like "oh..." and instead of doing the easy thing and telling Thorin he likes him back he decides to go the embarrassing route of "thats why you kept giving me jewelry and gifts! You like me!" Eventually he gets around to telling Thorin that he likes him and he was only leaving because him getting married and therefore replacing Bilbo just reminded him that he doesnt belong here with dwarves and he really didnt want to still be in Erebor the next time the topic of weddings come up (just wait till Thorin finds out Kili fancies a elf... hopefully Fili's future engagement is less rough then this while fiasco)

[nalu4emily]

The Unexpected Reward - Chapter 16

Summary:  Natsu and Lucy go on a job together, but what they bring home is something neither anticipated. Forced to make a life changing decision, they have to adapt quickly, but that's never easy, especially given the circumstances. As they work together on their toughest adventure yet, they find themselves drawn to one another, in ways they never realised. Nalu/cute/fluff

Rated M for a reason!

"Hey, old lady! Open up!" The slayer bellowed through the tiny keyhole, beating the same spot on the large, ornate door repeatedly with his fist. "I know you're in there; I can smell you!"

"Go away, boy! I don't like visitors!" The occupant shouted from the other side, infuriating the dragon further.

He hammered his fist harder, determined to get some answers. There was no way he was turning back, not after running all this way. He'd kick the door in if he had to.

Haru, who was tucked into his arms, didn't seem to mind the small detour, or the loud clattering and yelling. He was perfectly content playing with anything he could get his hands on, namely Natsu's clothing. The occasional "Mama" or "Dada" would escape him but he mostly babbled nonsense to himself.

"At least you're having a good time. Daddy's starting to lose his patience." Natsu muttered the last bit under his breath, grinning at the child through his chagrin. He turned back to the door, "Look, I won't take up much of your time, I just need your advice. It's about Lucy…"

The door swung open with a rush and a thud, crashing into the very tree it was nailed to, causing leaves to fall from their branches. The noise had stunned Natsu into silence as he stared at the very person he'd come to see—Porlyusica. Dressed in her usual attire, she stepped out onto the porch and glowered at the young man, broom in hand, ready to chase him away.

Opening her mouth to scold him for the disruption, she caught sight of the little one he was carrying and closed it again, her hard lines softening. Instead of beating the slayer with her broom, which was the original plan, she held something out in her palm, expecting him to take it.

Eyeing it curiously, he took it from her hand and held it to his face, inspecting it further. It was a small, glass vile with a cork stopper lid, that contained a strange yellow liquid, its consistency was thick and it reminded Natsu, somewhat, of mashed up baby food—the kind Haru loved to eat.

"It's called morning sickness. Give her a few drops of that potion and it should quell its severity." She explained.

The boy accepted her potion and put it into his pocket for safe keeping, "Thanks! Lucy'll be glad of that. Only, it's not just her sickness that I'm-"

"I know why you're here. I could tell when I saw you all the other day, I'm just surprised it's taken you both this long to come knocking. So, where is she?" Porlyusica asked, looking behind Natsu for the blonde.

"At home actually. She… kinda doesn't know I'm here… but, I can't watch her suffer like that, I need to know what to do." Natsu pleaded, hoping the healer would help him.

She sighed, unable to refuse his request, "Has it been confirmed?"

"Not really… How do you do that?" Natsu asked, his knowledge on such things were limited.

"Get Lucy to test it, she'll understand. Then once it's confirmed, come back to me, I'll need to run some checks." She said, turning to go back inside.

"Checks? What checks?" There went his plan! Lucy would have to see her after all.

"You want a healthy child, don't you?" She said, as if it were obvious.

"U-Uh…"

The fire mage didn't get a chance to think too much into that before the door was slammed shut in his face, making him along with the baby jump.

The wind picked up a little as he turned to walk away, looking down at Haru, who was starting to snuggle down against his chest. Natsu smiled again at him, trying to mask his annoyance with the old woman's abruptness, "Sorry for making you wait, Haru, I bet you're super bored?"

"Dada…" The child yawned cutely on cue, making Natsu chuckle.

"Yeah, Dada's gonna take you home." He reiterated, turning to make tracks for home.

Natsu all but crashed through the front door, nearly breaking it off its hinges. "Luce? Lucy? Are ya home?" He yelled out into the house. Out of breath and panting, having just ran all the way back.

"Lucy?" He called out again, but with no answer still, he wondered where she could be, "Hmm… Let's go find Mama; she's around here somewhere."

"Mama…" The infant muttered, before going back to sucking on the ends of Natsu's scarf.

Once reaching the top of the stairs, he heard what he suspected might be the reason for Lucy's silence. A noise that'd become all too common over the last few days. Pushing the bathroom door open, he stood in the doorway, smiling sadly at the girl hunched over the toilet bowl once again. He felt nothing but empathy for her, the feeling of being overwhelmingly sick wasn't exactly foreign to him either, so he understood her pain.

The young man crouched down behind the blonde, cringing as she wretched her guts up. "It's alright, Luce. I'm here with you now." He spoke quietly, as not to alarm her of his presence. Placing Haru down next to him, he reached a hand out to her shoulder, the warm touch spreading over her clammy skin.

With one last cough and spit into the bowl, Lucy leaned back, breathing heavily while her watery eyes streamed down her face. She sniffled and blew her nose with a tissue, wiping her mouth at the same time. She took in a large breath and shifted to the man behind her, clutching hold of his jacket while she cried into his chest.

Enveloping her with his arms and cradling her head to him, he spoke tenderly to her, "Has it eased off now?"

"I-I don't know." Her voice was hoarse; her throat sore, "Please don't leave me again."

That struck a chord with Natsu. Never had he heard Lucy ask for him, not like that. She was always way too proud and independent, but this had really taken it's toll on her, not just physically but mentally also, making her feel vulnerable and it saddened him to see her so.

"I won't, Lucy, I promise." He said lowly into her ear, placing an affectionate peck just behind her lobe.

Nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck, she sniffled again, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, "I don't want this, Natsu. I don't care what's causing it; I just want it gone."

Really her words shouldn't have affected him like they did, yet he still felt a sharp tug on his heart. She didn't know the reason behind her vomiting; how could she? He hadn't told her. And now with her so upset, he really didn't know how he was going to do that. Where did he even start?

He'd been so ready to just blurt it out, never considering how Lucy might react to it. In fact, if memory served him, she'd most likely freak until she combusted, or worse, began to cry. This subject had to be handled sensitively and with care, but the longer he left it, the longer he had to dwell on her reaction.

"I know, Luce. Are you sure you still want to wait for Wendy? Gramps told me she won't be back for a week at least." He explained, hoping she might change her mind about seeing the old dragon woman.

"I don't care who I see, as long as they can get rid of it." She said, finally pulling back and wiping her eyes with her sleeve, "I'm just so tired! It's been so long since I've had any real sleep and the puking just won't let up. My tummy hurts, my back aches and my ribs feel like they're being squashed, I have a constant headache and food-" She placed her hand over her mouth again, feeling that overwhelming nausea return. The mention of food, any food, was enough to set her off.

"Just try and take a deep breath, Luce, think of something else."

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath through her nose and let it slowly out through her mouth, turning her attentions to Haru, "Sorry, little man, Mama didn't mean to ignore you, although you seem pretty content sucking on that scarf."

"He's been doing that all afternoon." Natsu answered for the baby, before switching back to Lucy, "Has the feeling gone now?"

"Not yet, it never really does. It just sits there until something triggers it." She explained, trying to breathe through the queasiness.

"That sucks… Oh, that reminds me, I have something for ya!" Remembering the little gift the old woman had given him, he started rummaging through his pockets, pulling out the item he was looking for and handed it to her, "Take it, Luce, it'll help with your, uh…" Wracking his brain for whatever Porlyusica had called it, "…Sickness." Was what he settled for.

Taking it into her hands she stared at it, frowning at the gross substance which could barely be called a liquid. "Um… Are you sure this is fit for human consumption?" She asked, hesitant to put it anywhere near her mouth. "And where'd it even come from?"

"Well, you know you said you didn't want to go to Porlyusica?" He blushed a little, putting his hand behind his head and grinned sheepishly, "I kinda did for ya and she gave me that. She said to take a few drops of it."

"Hmm… If you say so." She popped the cork lid open and let a few small globs dribble out into her mouth, pulling a disgusted face as it slid down her throat and stuck out her tongue. Little Haru found it hysterical and began laughing at his mother, his whole body jiggling up and down, "Well, I'm glad you're finding this funny, because that is repulsive!"

Natsu smiled, "You did look kinda funny, Luce. But at least it'll lessen your morning sickness now." That was it!

Eyes widening, Lucy snapped her head to Natsu, her amusement gone, "Morning sickness?!"

"Yeah, that's what she called it—which is dumb! It's more like all day and night sickness." He chuckled to himself, quickly falling silent when Lucy's expression didn't change at his little joke. He didn't understand; had he said something wrong? "What's up, Luce? I thought it might help."

"You… you think I'm pregnant?" She asked, eyes wide and mouth agape, her stare never leaving him.

Shit!

So morning sickness was a pregnancy thing? He wished he'd known that sooner!

Cursing himself again, he hadn't meant for her to find out like that and what's worse—she looked utterly horrified. Dammit! What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't lie to her; he wouldn't do that. With no other alternative, he did the only thing he could and sighed, nodding his answer and cringing at the sharp inhale he heard pass her lips.

Hoping she wasn't about to blow a fuse, he approached the stunned girl carefully, taking the vile out of her slack grasp and placed it back in his pocket before entwining their fingers together. Quirking one side of his lip into a half smile, he kept quiet and allowed her to process the information she obviously was not expecting.

His eyes dropped from her shocked face to her partially exposed stomach, catching her other hand instinctively come down to cradle it protectively, like an expectant mother would and it made the adrenaline course through his body.

"Pregnant… How did I not think of that?" She muttered under her breath, truly shocked that she hadn't once considered it a possibility. All the signs were there, everything pointed to it—shouted at it in fact, yet it was Natsu who'd realised it first. The boy that once thought humans laid eggs had figured it out before her? Something seemed fishy! "How come you knew? Who've you been speaking to?" Mortified to think that the whole guild knew before she even did.

"Gray, actually." He replied, shrugging, "And Porlyusica helped, obviously."

"Gray?! What does he know about having a baby? Doesn't he usually shy away from that kind of stuff?" She was astounded to find that it was the ice mage of all people. One of the girls from the guild was understandable or even someone like Gajeel who'd experienced it, but Gray?

"You think Juvia gives him a choice? She was crazy before, but now it seems she's on a whole other level." He sniggered a little, feeling kinda sorry for Gray, but kinda not. He'd made his bed and now he'd have to lay in it.

"Oh, so Juvia's pregnant too? How sweet, she's been desperate since… well, since forever!"

Natsu hummed in agreement, his attention focused more on Lucy's calm and collected demeanour, which honestly, he hadn't expected. She seemed happy by the prospect of growing their family, and that filled him with joy.

"Baby fever all 'round, it seems." Chuckling and tapping little Haru's head, the spirit wielder met the slayers eyes, smiling brightly at him with her hand still firmly placed on her lower belly, "I guess being so sick will be worth it, if it's for a baby."

"Our baby, Luce." Wiping the few stray tears away with his thumb, Natsu grinned at her, glad to see that gorgeous smile of hers split her cheeks, "Now we just gotta test it, right? Only, I don't know how you'd do that?"

"Hmm… I do, but… Oh wait! Cana!" She yelled, scrambling to her feet and nearly tripping on the bath mat. Luckily, Natsu was there for her to grab a hold of.

"What's this got to do with Cana?" He asked, confused—nothing good could ever come of her being involved.

"Her 'gifts'." The boy tilted his head; that made even less sense! "You know… ages ago, she pranked us with the condoms and a pregnancy test?" Lucy whispered to him, not wanting to say it out loud in front of Haru.

"Oh yeah! I wondered where they all went!" His eyes lit up when the memory returned to him.

"Please don't remind me…" Happy mumbled under his breath, a look of trauma on his face.

"Oh, hey Happy! I didn't hear ya come in!" Natsu greeted, waving at the exceed hovering in the doorway.

"Why're you guys looking for those things? You mean you're actually gonna use 'em?!" Nearly passing out at the thought, but shut his mouth quickly when he noticed Lucy glaring at him.

Returning to the task at hand, the blonde continued to search through the bathroom cupboards, "I put them away in here somewhere… Aha! Found it!" She cheered, holding and waving it in her hand to show Natsu.

"Awesome!" He cheered, "Now what?"

"Yeah, uh, you're gonna have to wait outside, and I'll let you know when I'm done." Pulling out the stick from its packaging, she crossed her arms and glared at the boy still standing there.

"Wait, what's happening?" The exceed asked, completely lost on their conversation.

"Why do I gotta wait outside? Can't I stay in here while you do it?" Natsu didn't want to be locked out again, it wasn't fair! He wanted to be in on the action!

She deadpanned, "Unless you want to watch me pee on a stick?" He was clueless.

"No, thank you!" Happy was gone in a flash, back down the stairs, no longer caring what they were talking about.

"So what, Luce?" The fire mage shrugged, "I've seen ya do worse."

"Just get out, Natsu, I'll call you back in when I'm done!" Lucy huffed, shooing the idiot out of the bathroom, ignoring his protests and shutting the door behind her.

Natsu exaggerated his huff, chuckling when Haru copied him, "Looks like we gotta wait out here, little guy. Are ya hungry?" The fire mage asked, taking them both down to the kitchen to retrieve some food.

Once returning to the bathroom door, food thoroughly shoved in their pie holes, they waited. When the door finally opened, revealing the girl with the stick in her hand, Natsu could barely contain himself; he wanted to know the results.

"So, what's it say? Are ya, Luce?" He asked, feeling like a kid at Christmas. Upon setting his own eyes on the girl, his face dropped instantly as he watched fresh tears build in her eyes. "Lucy?"

She wiped her snuffling nose and handed the stick to her partner, allowing him to look at the results. "Two lines means positive; one line means negative." Was all she said, using her sleeve to rub at her irritated eyes.

Peering down at the peculiar shaped object in his hand, he knitted his brows together. On the little screen, there was but a singular line—just one. He looked back up to Lucy, confusion still etched into his expression, "Negative?"

"It means, I'm not pregnant." Disappointment flowed out of her very pores; saying it out loud only reaffirmed it; a bitter truth escaping her lips. "Back to the drawing board, I guess. I'm sorry, Natsu, I know that wasn't what you wanted to hear."

Natsu remained silent, processing it all. It was definitely not the result he had been expecting, but it didn't seem to be bothering him as much as it should've. That niggle along with everything else that lead him to that conclusion, surely hadn't been wrong? He should've felt sad, a little disappointed, maybe? Or even a tad guilty for giving Lucy false hope—but he felt none of those things.

It was true that he didn't have well of medical knowledge like Porlyusica or some other doctor. He didn't read a load of books to get his information like Lucy or even Levy, and he certainly had no experience to pull from, and yet his gut still believed there was hope.

He placed the test down and pulled Lucy to him, enveloping her in his warmth to soothe her aching heart. With her nestled into his chest, he nuzzled his head into her hair, breathing in her scent, allowing it to relax him, when an idea struck.

Unexpectedly he pulled away from the sad blonde, passed her the baby and dropped to his knees, much to her embarrassment. He hugged her close, placing his nose on her lower belly and inhaled deeply, ignoring her flustered rants about 'reading the mood'. After several awkward minutes of her whining and his determination to be proven right, he smiled and let go.

"Natsu, you can't just sniff people like that! What were you doing?! I'm not in the mood for jokes." She sighed, watching him hop to his feet.

"Lucy, I think the test is lying."

Perking her head up to meet his eyes, with brows knitted together, she spoke, "Huh? Tests don't lie, Natsu! Don't be so ridiculous! I know it's hard to hear, but we're not having a baby."

"We'll see about that!" He grinned and hoisted her up, carrying her bridal style down the stairs with Haru perched neatly in her lap, ignoring her yells to be put down.

"Right Haru, let's go get some answers! You coming, Happy?" Natsu's usual electric enthusiasm shone brightly through his grin.

"Yeah! Where are we going?" Happy asked, hovering above the slayer's head.

He winked at the Exceed, then proceeded to kick the front door open and walked out into the front garden. "You ready, Luce?" His grin turning mischievous.

"Natsu, put me down! I don't even have any shoes on! Where the heck are we going?!" She screeched into his ear, making him wince, but smile all the same.

"You don't need shoes when I'm carrying you! Hold on tight guys, we're off to see the old dragon woman in the woods. She'll be able to tell us." He said, sprinting off down the path towards their destination, with Happy flying behind.

Eventually, Lucy gave up her struggle. She wasn't going to win; she never did once he'd set his mind on something. That was usually how all of their adventures started off, him dragging her off somewhere new and exciting. Although, she couldn't say going to see the old woman was new or particularly exciting, but if Natsu thought it was the right thing to do, even if the result remained the same, then she had no choice but to tag along.

Finally nearing the tree, Natsu could see from a distance that the door was open, meaning said woman was out and about, probably collecting ingredients for her next potion.

"So you've returned." They heard the gruff voice from behind, swivelling their heads to meet Porlyusica as she walked over to them. "And you've brought the whole cavalry… Well, don't just stand there gawking, in you go!" Natsu quickly made it into the tree, not wanting to be on the receiving end of the cranky woman with a broom. "And put Lucy down, a pregnant woman is more than capable of walking, boy!"

Lucy all but jumped to her feet, mortified and embarrassed by the whole situation and turned to the healer, "That's the thing though, I'm not pregnant, but Natsu insisted on dragging us out here. We're sorry for wasting your time." The flustered blonde seemed a little too eager to leave and tried to make a break for the door; however; the fire breather's quick reflexes caught her wrist before she could reach the door handle.

"Luce, I told you already: the test was lying!" He repeated, eyes pleading with her just to wait and see what the healer might say.

She sighed; feeling a little frustrated by it all, "Tests don't lie, Natsu. I'm not pregnant and that's all there is to it. I'll just have to muddle through whatever this sickness is until it goes away."

"It came out negative, I assume?" Porlyusica intervened, focusing on the blonde huddling close to the door. "Natsu is right, tests can give false negative readings, especially if it's old or hasn't been used properly." The pink haired woman walked closer to the girl, looking her up and down. "I thought that you might be when I saw you last and I'm rarely wrong."

Lucy hadn't expected the woman to actually agree with Natsu. She hadn't thought that there could be something wrong with the test, but then again, it was from Cana and god knows where she'd got it from. She perked her head up a little and was almost reluctant to look at the dragon slayers expression, knowing the smugness of being right would be written all over his face.

"Ha! See, I knew it! There's still a chance, Lucy!" Natsu shone his vibrant, toothy grin at the blonde girl. She could see the hope in his eyes; he really wanted this; to be a father again and her heart all but melted.

"I have other, more thorough ways of testing, if you'd let me?" Porlyusica asked the celestial mage, bringing her back to the present.

Apprehensively, Lucy nodded her head and went to sit on the bed by the window to await further instructions. She was so nervous, hoping for some positive answers, that would prove the test was false. She wasn't sure her heart could take the disappointment a second time, especially if it included Natsu's this time.

"There are a few different ways I can confirm a pregnancy, blood tests and so forth, but the most efficient way is a scan of the area." She said, gathering the instruments she needed whilst awaiting Lucy's approval. "I use a lacrima and it shows an image of your womb."

"O-Okay." Lucy replied, uncertain of what she'd just agreed to.

She laid back on the bed and pulled her top up, revealing her stomach. Taking a deep breath, the celestial mage twisted her head to Natsu, who had knelt down beside her. Her nerves were rattling within her body and was looking for a little reassurance, something to take the edge off of her apprehension.

He smiled at her tenderly and reached out for her hand to hold tight, not entirely convinced it was to ease just her anxiety as opposed to his own. They were about to find out whether or not their own little creation had taken residence in Lucy's womb, and he couldn't describe what an incredibly surreal feeling that was.

Porlyusica first needed to locate where the lacrima should be placed. Using one hand, she pressed firmly just above Lucy's pelvis, then several times around the area. Still tender and overly sensitive, Lucy tried her hardest not to show the discomfort it was causing. It rippled up into her throat, making her feel sick again, only this time she had no choice but to hold it back.

The wincing and quiet gasps didn't go unnoticed by the dragon slayer. He'd been watching the healer like a hawk, making sure nothing hurt Lucy too much. He leant over, understanding how unpleasant it must be and kissed her temple, whilst running his fingers smoothly through her blonde tresses.

The lacrima was a simple looking flat, green crystal that the older woman laid onto the stellar mages bare skin and waited for the image to appear. With a few flashes of light, a picture was formed like a projection hovering just above the lacrima.

"What the heck is that?! It looks like you swallowed a ball!" Happy couldn't take his eyes off of the image.

"That's so cool! I'm totally looking at your insides, Luce!" The fire breather enthused, unable to take his eyes off of the image.

Lucy rolled her eyes at the pair; typical Natsu and Happy, "You're both such idiots…"

"When you're done bickering, I'll explain what you're looking at." Porlyusica cut in. She pointed to the big black oval shape on the projection, that Happy kindly pointed out, and looked at the pair, making sure they were paying attention. "This is the outline of your uterus, Lucy. And from what I can see, it looks perfectly normal and healthy."

"Oh okay, that's good then." She pointed to a smaller, light coloured ball at the bottom of the black oval and knitted her brows together. "So, what's that?"

Moving the lacrima crystal slightly, the healer repositioned it to get a closer look at the small ball and both mages eyes near bulged out of their sockets. Their mouths dropped open and breath hitched simultaneously as the image took on a more human shape, its arms and legs moving rapidly.

"Oh my… Is that…?" Lucy had never seen anything like it, her mouth had gone completely dry and she felt the butterflies in her tummy cause her to quiver, she was in awe.

"Look at what we did, Lucy…" Natsu murmured after a few shocked, silent moments, catching the girl's attention. His eyes were glued to the image, watching it kick out with it's tiny little developing legs and feet. "It's an active little thing…"

"It's a baby, Natsu…" The celestial mages eyes glazed over, unable to control the flood of emotions that entered her system.

For the first time, the fire breather peeled his sights away from the projection and looked to his partner. His own tears peaked at the corners, feeling so overwhelmingly happy to be able to share this with her.

"Mm… it sure is, Luce." His voice sounded airy, sleepy almost, like his body had simply relaxed. His brilliant smile beamed at the blonde, making her heart skip a beat as she turned to face him fully, the sound of their little one's heart beat filling their ears.

"Look Haru, you're gonna have a little brother or sister." Lucy said as Natsu held him up to see, pointing at the even tinier one wriggling around on the projection. "It's a little one, just like you!"

Porlyusica turned the crystal once more, allowing them to see the baby from a different angle, "As you can see, Lucy, you are pregnant and by the looks of it, I'd say you have been for about ten weeks now."

"Ten weeks?! Surely that's not right; I would have noticed long before now!" Lucy was stunned to learn she was that far along already. The symptoms had only just started and she'd menstruated within that time—hadn't she?

"Not necessarily, pregnancy doesn't follow a certain set of rules. When Juvia came to see me regarding the same thing, she'd been suffering with symptoms from around the six week mark. Levy, on the other hand, had no symptoms and she was carrying twins. Some women experience symptoms just at the beginning while others, all the way through. Some later and some sooner, and some none at all."

"Oh… I didn't know. So, what happens now?" Lucy asked, feeling a little bit of disappointment when the healer deactivated the lacrima and removed it from her belly—she could've easily watched it all day.

"Yeah, when will it be born? Is it a long wait?" Natsu butted in, moving to sit next to the girl on the bed.

"And I thought Gray was clueless… A pregnancy takes nine months or approximately forty weeks, meaning Lucy has about thirty weeks left to go."

"That long? But that's ages away!" Natsu whined, turning into a child himself.

"Yeah, why can't it be born now?" Happy joined in, wanting to meet the little one already.

"Quiet, boys, before I kick you out!" She threatened, returning her attentions to the blonde, "Look after yourself, Lucy. A stressed mother is a stressed baby, but so far everything is looking as it should." The woman returned her equipment to their places and snapped her head to the little family still sitting there, "What're you both still doing here? Get out!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Natsu and Lucy jumped to their feet at lightning speed and ran out of the door, making sure they were out of sight of the old woman before slowing to a halt.

"Ugh! Now my feet are all dirty!" Lucy groaned, lifting her bare feet up one by one to inspect them, grimacing at all of the mud now coating them. "This is your fault- Mmph!"

A pair of warm, smooth lips silenced her, pressing urgently to her mouth, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. With him taking the lead, Lucy relaxed into it and enjoyed the feel of his mouth on hers, their tongues interloping, causing butterflies to re-enter her stomach.

Pulling apart, but barely, he stared at her angelic features and couldn't help but smile at the beautiful girl before him. Thanks to her, he was going to be a father again. A father not to just one, but two precious babies and he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

"I love you, Lucy." He grinned, the biggest, widest grin she'd ever seen, so enormous it was almost too much for his face. But it was still heart meltingly cute and to hear him say those words again was enough to turn her into a puddle. It wasn't something he said very often, but she was fine with that. It made times like this all the more special.

"I love you too, Natsu." She could see just how happy he was, his very soul glowing like the fire he wielded. "So, are you going to tell me how you knew?"

He quirked his brow, "Knew what?"

"That the test was wrong." She said, her eyes flickering between his.

"Oh… I, uh, sorta had a feeling, I guess. And I was sure I could smell something." He shrugged, about to lean in for another kiss.

"You could… smell something?" Horrified she pulled her face back; did she smell?!

"Yeah, another scent. I've been able to smell it since I came home the other day, but didn't know what it was until now." The boy explained, bringing her head back to him.

"You can smell the baby?" Lucy's eyes widened in fascination.

"Sure. It's real faint, but if I try hard enough, it's there."

"Wow! That's incredible!" She looked down at herself again and cradled her belly, right where the lacrima had been and pictured their perfect little baby safe and sound in there. "I'm so happy, Natsu."

"Me too, Lucy." Natsu chuckled and finally managed to pull her back in for a loving and tender kiss, relaying all of his own happiness to her in one fluid motion. His hand came up to rest on top of hers, caressing the soft skin of her belly, imagining just how beautiful she was going to look in the months to come, carrying his child.

But their passion was swiftly halted when a certain little fella stopped them in their tracks, placing a hand to where their lips joined and made a cute babble sound, as if he were trying to work out what they were doing. Chuckling, they both turned to Haru, who was still looking at them curiously.

"You two are just nasty!" Happy said, placing himself down on the floor. "Not only do you eat each other, but you're now doing it in front of Haru!"

"We don't eat each other, I have no idea what you're talking about!" Lucy defended, shaking her head.

"Yeah you do and other… more explicit things!" Happy shivered at the thought, "Otherwise you wouldn't be in this situation."

"What situation is that then?" Lucy asked, defiance lacing her voice.

"He means the baby, Luce, even I understood that one!" Natsu piped in.

"Really?!" She exclaimed sarcastically, "Ugh! You guys are infuriating! With any luck, this baby will be a girl, then I won't feel so outnumbered!" She huffed, crossing her arms.

"And she'll still end up like Natsu, and you know it!"

Lucy's expression deflated, her arms sinking to her sides ans sighed "You're right…"

"Anyway, with another mouth to feed, you might wanna reconsider that job, Natsu!" The exceed mentioned, not noticing the dragon slayer shoot daggers at him.

"Oh… What job is that then?" The blonde asked, curiously. She didn't remember Natsu mentioning anything about a job.

"It's nothing really, Luce." Natsu shrugged, playing it down.

"You should have seen the reward! I've never seen that many zero's in a number!" Happy chirped, only now noticing the look his friend was giving him, telling him silently to shut up.

"Natsu, what's up? How come you never said anything?" Lucy asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"It's not that big of a deal. Gramps gave me a request yesterday, but I turned it down, that's all." He explained, seeming a little dismissive but otherwise normal. "Why don't we get ya home? It'll be dinner time soon." Seeing the reluctance in Lucy's face to believe him, he sighed and smiled at her, not ready to have that conversation just yet.

Suddenly her feet were whipped out from under her and she and Haru found themselves in the air, with two strong arms holding them up, "Natsu!"

"What? Can't have Mama all pooped out now can we, Haru?" Natsu laughed along with the infant, grinning widely, "'Cause she's still gotta cook us dinner!" He smirked at the young woman in his arms, who's eyes snapped at to him, glaring at his handsome face.

"Hey! How come I gotta slave away in the kitchen?! I'm pregnant now, you should be making me dinner!" She retorted, huffing and turning her head to the side.

"I don't mind cooking, it's whether you mind having a kitchen or not?"

"On second thought, stay out of the kitchen, you're too much of a fire hazard. But you owe me a foot rub, after all, this is your doing!" She smirked back at him.

"Oh… I never remember you complaining, maybe I'll have to get you to jolt my memory later." He chuckled lowly back, rising to the challenge.

"That's it! You two are disgusting! I'm taking Haru and you can both find somewhere else to do your dirty stuff tonight." Happy whizzed down to snatch the giggling baby from Lucy and speedily zoomed off into the distance, leaving the other two behind.

"Hey! That's no fair! You got a head start!" Not willing to be beaten by a flying cat and a baby, Natsu hurtled himself and Lucy in the same direction, her screams of terror echoing throughout the forest.

[gastricpierrot]

Title: Ships in the Night 

Series: Genshin Impact

Relationship: ZhongVen

Rating: T

Summary:

Barbatos had always wanted to enjoy a Ludi Harpastum with Morax, making so many empty promises with him over the years to go together one day. A festival of fun and games close to his own heart, it’s a change of pace he always thought Morax could appreciate. They finally manage this after all these centuries, yet Barbatos just had to be an idiot at the very end.

He rests his arm over his eyes, exhaling a slow breath. He's such an idiot.

Also on AO3

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

The sheer idea of festivities lasting two whole weeks sounds absolutely exhausting to Morax, yet even at the peak of the Ludi Harpastum, Mondstadt’s people do not seem like they are slowing down anytime soon.

Morax’s tugged along by the cuff of his sleeve, Barbatos in the lead as they weave their way through the packed streets. Songs and cheer fill the air, mingled with the scents of various food, flowers, and of course, the city’s beloved wine. Barbatos himself is already tipsy despite it still being rather early in the day, having downed almost every pint of free alcohol that’s offered to him by the countless vendors they come across. There's an occasional stumble in his steps, but his spirits remain high as he shows Morax around with wholehearted excitement, a bright grin across his lips, a lively blush on his cheeks.

Morax finds the myriad of sensations dizzying, too many sights and sounds and scents bombarding him all at once—and he holds on to Barbatos’ presence for balance. Barbatos, in contrast, seems to harbour no such qualms, flitting from one booth to the next with ease, only pausing to look back when he finds something he wants to recommend. The apples from this store, the handcrafted trinkets from another, the freshly made Mora Meat from yet another one. He isn’t shy when it comes to haggling—even though Morax did remember to bring his wallet for once (much to Barbatos’ exaggerated horror) and he’s certain there would be enough between them to last the day—but it seems to be a normal occurrence to the vendors. Morax watches their good-humored banters, sees how comfortable Barbatos is around these parts and in these situations.

It’s clear how much he loves Mondstadt, and how much he is loved in return.

They spend the rest of the afternoon like this, navigating the packed streets, Barbatos showing him his favorite spots, stopping only for the occasional breathers and snacks. Mondstadt’s festivals have a very different atmosphere to them compared to those back in Liyue, unique in a way Morax can’t exactly pinpoint. Rowdier, perhaps, with the people more comfortable when it comes to mingling with strangers. Morax has lost count of the number of times he’s been randomly approached to be given some sort of gift, or to be invited for meals or gatherings he politely declines. Perhaps the community here is simply tighter knit as a whole, as compared to the more family-centric people of Liyue.

Barbatos leads him to a park at some point, declaring it’ll be their last stop before he has to prepare for a performance after sunset. Morax notices how it’s mainly families and children in this area, not a single wine vendor in sight. There are booths for games instead, where players will have the chance to earn various prizes if they win. Each is packed with groups of youngsters, all vying for the best toys on offer. Shrill, excited voices cheered and jeered at one another; in a way inciting even more chaos here compared to the people crowding the market lanes.

“Why don’t you give one a try? Even adults are allowed to play, you know,” Barbatos suggests when Morax stops to watch a child’s attempt at a game of throwing hoops over cups marked with numbers. Morax glances at him, sees his wayward smile.

“I don't think it’d be fair to the young ones if I did,” he says, to which Barbatos only barks out a laugh.

“Show off,” he retorts, and even Morax cracks a smile.

“Um, excuse me.”

They’re just about to continue on their way when a voice calls out to them. Morax turns around, not seeing anyone until it occurs to him to look down. A lone young girl stares at him wide-eyed from below, a messy flower crown clutched tightly in her hands.

“Mister, please have this!” She offers the item to him, her words slightly rushed from her enthusiasm. Morax has turned down countless gifts throughout the day, but this time, at least, he knows better than to needlessly upset a child.

So he kneels down to be a little closer to eye-level with her. “It is an honor to receive your gift.”

She stretches out her arms, and Morax tips his head to let her crown him.

The child giggles in delight as she steps back. “You really are like a prince, mister! Bye-bye!”

Morax watches her run back to her parents a little way off, warmth blossoming in his chest as he waves his own farewell to her. He gets back on his feet, and finds Barbatos looking at him with an expression he’s never seen him wear.

“It suits you,” he says, like he actually means it rather than the usual sarcasm Morax’s expected he would go for. He supposes he must be quite the sight, a full-grown adult with a falling-apart flower crown perching lopsided atop his head.

“It probably suits you more, Bar—” he stops himself just in time, remembering that they’re here only as humans and nothing more, and that they should at least make a bit of effort to keep up appearances. Though, it's not like anyone within their vicinity would actually be paying attention.

“Venti,” he tries anyway, and immediately breaks into a frown. The name still feels strange on his tongue, no matter how much he’s tried to practice saying it.

“Gods, it does feel weird hearing you call me that,” Barbatos admits with a slight wince, but Morax could somewhat tell that he appreciates it, nonetheless. It's the way his features brighten at the sound of it, the way his eyes would light up ever so slightly. It is, after all, a name bestowed upon him by a beloved friend many years ago. Barbatos has not been called such for a long time. “But yeah, no, you should keep that. Have some fun, let loose a little!”

Morax doesn’t exactly see how wearing flowers in his hair contributes to “letting loose”, but he doesn’t argue.

They have time to go grab something for dinner just as dusk falls, and then Barbatos is bringing him to what he claims to be one of the main final highlights of the Ludi Harpastum: an event of all night drinking and fireworks. There are several spots around the city hosting such sessions, all offering endless streams of food and alcohol sponsored by Mondstadt’s major wineries. Barbatos will be performing in the one held at the city square—the main place, he boasts—first of the few bards invited there to further enliven the mood.

Dozens of chairs and tables are set up across the open space, most already packed with people by the time they get there. There’s a small stage at the very front, the sides of the venue lined with booths in charge of the food and drinks. Waiting staff donning bright uniforms dart from table to table, expertly weaving their way around the already half-intoxicated crowd.

It’s almost overwhelming; the energy, the pungent scent of food and strong wine, the sheer rowdiness of the people gathered around. Morax stops by a convenient tree a respectable distance away from the square, just far enough that the chances of a random drunkard stumbling over and dragging him in would be minimal.

And “I think I’ll stay here,” he says, when Barbatos turns to him with raised eyebrows.

“Don’t want to join in?” he asks, despite Morax’s answer already being obvious.

“I’m sure I can enjoy the atmosphere well enough from here.”

“Hmm, fair enough.” Barbatos shrugs after a quick gauge of the distance between them and the heart of the event. Then he smiles, hands on his hips. “Anyway. I’ll get going first, then. I’ll come find you when I’m done?”

“If I haven’t already left,” Morax says, because he genuinely does not know how much of this unbridled revelry he can tolerate. Even now, part of him wants nothing more than to walk off and find somewhere quiet to wind down for the rest of the evening.

Of course, his statement immediately gets Barbatos whining. “At least wait for me!!!”

“Just go before you’re late.” Morax shoos him off, though he doubts anyone present currently retains even the slightest sense of time.

“Fine, fine!” Barbatos relents, cheeks still puffed, “but I’m going to throw rocks at you if you really leave without me, alright?”

Morax halfheartedly assures he can throw as many rocks at him as he wants if it comes to it, then with a sudden rush of wind and a final harrumph, Barbatos turns on his heels and strides towards the stage, his people cheering his name the moment they spot him.

“Looking forward to what you have for us tonight, Venti!”

“Venti you rascal, you really made us wait this time!”

“Venti, you’re looking lovely as ever!”

Venti, Venti.

The descent of a god, unknown to his own people.

Barbatos takes his seat on the single stool placed on the stage, crossing his legs just so, his posture relaxed yet brimming with elegance. The wind carries the sounds of his lyre all the way to where Morax stands, clear and proud amidst the endless chatter of the crowd. He begins with a slow tune, a moment of calm cutting through the chaos. Demanding attention.

Quiet. Listen.

Morax too, catches himself holding his breath.

And then Barbatos strums another note and smoothly transitions into a new tune, and the crowd explodes with excitement. His next song matches more to the barely suppressed merriment around him, its melody upbeat and festive. He’s skilled at involving his audience, easily encouraging them to sing and dance along. Charming, radiant. He captivates all who behold him—even Morax, despite such genre of music never being to his tastes. It’s a rather belated realization to come to, but seeing him fully in his element like this, Morax can tell that Barbatos’ boastings indeed hold their weight, and that he truly has mastered the craft of a bard.

Barbatos leaves the stage around the middle of his fourth song, slipping into the crowd as he continues his performance. He sings and twirls and dances, one with his people—and somehow still, Morax spots him managing to down some drinks in between. His current song involves a back and forth; he sings one line, then prompting the nearest person to follow up. It seems to be a piece everyone’s wholly familiar with, all who enthusiastically join in barely stumbling on their turn.

Morax notices too, after a few minutes of observation, that it also seems to be endless; constantly looping around the chorus. He wouldn’t put it past Barbatos for doing this deliberately, for as long as it continued, he could drink.

And he does drink. He drinks so much that it’s almost impressive, since he only has a few seconds at a time to gulp down his alcohol. Morax wrinkles his nose from afar, already dreading the stench he would exude when he returns later.

Morax doesn’t see it, at first. He can pinpoint Barbatos’ general location based on the reaction of the people and when he hops onto benches and tables for some elevation, but he’s partly obscured from his sight most of the time. It’s only as Barbatos makes his way further towards the back of the crowd, closer to where Morax stands, that he notices how else some members of his audience interact with him.

People who take advantage of the general unruliness of a large-scale drinking session in a packed area, hands that touch places past normal boundaries. His thighs, his back, his neck.

Barbatos does not falter, either too immersed in his own performance or too intoxicated to realize and care. Or perhaps he is simply used to this, having been a bard for as long as he’d been a god. Morax does not know.

Fire flares in his stomach the longer he watches, filling his mouth with a bitter taste. It is truly an uncomfortable sight. Intoxication is not consent, nor is silence. Morax could not stand it for long, reaching for the flower crown on his head and tossing it aside before striding toward where Barbatos is lingering within the crowd.

He grabs a person by the wrist and wrenches their hand away from Barbatos, his grip hard enough to make them cry out. Barbatos must’ve heard the commotion, turning at the sound and eyes widening in surprise when he sees Morax right there behind him.

Morax glares at him—a misdirection of his anger, he admits—but he only breaks into a satisfied grin, and finally decides to move his song along. He leaps onto the nearest table, feet stepping delicately between the many glass mugs piled across its surface. His tune reaching a crescendo, his finale presented with flourish.

His audience, quite literally, erupts into cheers and applause.

Barbatos half stumbles down from the table amidst the cacophony of the reception, Morax moving to catch him just as his knees buckle beneath him and he loses his balance. He's trembling, his forehead visibly damp with sweat.

And before Morax can properly help him get back on his feet, he throws up all over his sleeve.

xXx

Barbatos supposes his age must finally be catching up to him.

Or perhaps he’d simply overestimated himself, thinking that participating in the Ludi Harpastum’s all-night drink session wouldn’t be too different from his usual gigs, only with a little more people.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have stepped off the stage in the first place, shouldn’t have danced quite so hard, and should’ve saved the drinking until after his performance ended. The lack of air, the thick haze of human odour mixed with the saccharine scent of alcohol, his own sweeping movements—Barbatos had not expected them to combine into an experience quite so nauseating, even for a god.

He vaguely remembers throwing up once more while Morax carried him somewhere, then a third time in a washroom he didn’t recognize. Then he draws a blank after that.

He stirs to find himself on a bed, his clothes replaced with a set of loose cotton pajamas and his body smelling faintly of floral soap. His head throbs with a dull ache, but he figures he’s seen worse days. More than anything, he feels dehydrated, his lips dry and throat like sandpaper. He braces his palms against the mattress, and slowly pushes himself upright.

He's in a dimly lit room, probably one in an inn not too far off from the venue of the drink fest. He hears the sounds of running water from behind the door opposite the bed; Morax is probably there cleaning up after the mess Barbatos made. There’s a jug on the bedstand, a fresh glass of water already poured out for him. Barbatos’ chest warms as he reaches for it, endeared by how fastidious Morax remains, despite everything.

He returns to lying down a little later, admittedly just a little bitter at how things have turned out. He’s had such an amazing day. He'd always wanted to enjoy a Ludi Harpastum with Morax, making so many empty promises with him over the years to go together one day. A festival of fun and games close to his own heart, it’s a change of pace he always thought Morax could appreciate, since he’s constantly at work. They finally manage this after all these centuries, yet Barbatos just had to be an idiot at the very end.

He rests his arm over his eyes, exhaling a slow breath. He's such an idiot.

The sounds of the shower eventually come to a stop, leaving a ringing sort of silence in their absence. The ruckus of the ongoing party not far off carries all the way to their window; people laughing, cheering, singing. Fireworks bursting in the sky.

He'd wanted to show Morax the fireworks too, damn it.

He lowers his arm and turns when he hears Morax stepping out of the bathroom. He’s wearing a similar set of pajamas as himself, though admittedly it looks so out of place on him that Barbatos almost lets out a snort.

“Hey,” he greets, because he’s genuinely not sure how else he should start. Morax meets his gaze from behind his damp fringe, his face betraying no particular emotion.

“Hey,” he returns, every bit as curt. Barbatos cracks a lopsided smile, and decides there’s no point trying to go around it.

“Listen, Morax, I’m so sorry things ended up like this,” he says, twisting to lie on his side facing him. Morax doesn’t respond to that immediately, and neither does Barbatos see much of a change in his expression.

“Barbatos, how many times do you think I've had to handle your drunk antics over the years?”

Barbatos winces at that. “Now you’re making me feel even worse.”

“You should,” Morax agrees, running a towel over his damp hair. “It’s about time you realize how self-centered and inconsiderate and – “

“Okay, okay, I get it!!” Barbatos interjects before his feelings are actually hurt. “I’m sorry!”

Morax only shoots him a meaningful look and says nothing else, knowing at the end of the day he’d do it all over again anyway. Barbatos supposes he can’t blame him; he’s more aware than anyone that he’s been the way he is for more than a millennium, never once giving even the slightest indication that he would change.

Maybe it’s time he considers, after all that’s happened today, but he decides he’ll mull over that some other time.

His eyes follow Morax as he steps away to hang his towel on a rack, his confusion growing when Morax proceeds to stand rooted in place, frowning slightly and arms crossed as though deep in thought. Barbatos stares at him for a solid couple of minutes before speaking up.

“What are you doing?”

“Thinking about what I should do next,” Morax answers, in all seriousness. Barbatos can’t believe this man is for real. He bursts into laughter, earning himself a puzzled look.

“You really don’t know what ‘rest’ means, do you?” he marvels, then scooting closer against the wall and patting the empty spot before him. “Come here and lie down, we’ve been up and about the entire day. Aren’t you tired?”

Morax’s frown deepens by a fraction. “But I don’t think there’s sp-”

“There’s more than enough space for the both of us!” Barbatos assures, chest light with newfound mirth. Morax really is too much of a gentleman at times. “This bed’s huge!”

Morax remains hesitant for a moment longer, but with just a little more gentle pestering, he relents in the end. “Then, if I may.”

Barbatos watches as he moves to take the space beside him, watches the way his long hair falls over his shoulders, the way the collar of his shirt shifts to reveal the hollow of his throat, a small window of his chest.

Morax fully lies down, and Barbatos realizes there really is just enough space for them to stay still like this. Huh. Has Morax always been such a big person? Or maybe the bed really isn’t that wide to begin with, and whatever alcohol lingering within his system is just messing with his perception of space. Not that it matters at this point. Morax still smells fresh from his shower, his uncharacteristically messy hair and comfortable clothes giving him an air of innocence Barbatos never expected to see on him. Unguarded, youthful. They’re a mere half-arm's length apart, close enough that Barbatos can almost feel his every exhale of breath.

“So how did you find the Ludi Harpastum?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, perhaps part of him being rather conscious about the little distance between them. Did it live up to the expectations he set for him by constantly inviting him to one over the years, he wonders? Did Morax at least enjoy himself a little with all the festivities? Barbatos noticed he’d mostly followed his lead, trying the many things he’d recommended to him, visiting only the places he brings him. Barely making many choices for himself. It’s too late at this point, yet Barbatos still worries about being overbearing without meaning to. Could Morax really have had fun without as much as a freedom of decision?

“It was...” Morax trails off ominously, pausing to weigh his words while Barbatos braces himself for the continuation. “Different, I suppose.”

“A good different or a bad one?”

“Just different,” Morax affirms. “It certainly feels livelier than the celebrations in Liyue.”

“Then,” Barbatos perks up, a little more hopeful now with the way Morax has responded so far. “What did you like most?”

Morax hums to that, silent in a moment of contemplation. “If I were to choose, I quite enjoyed some of the places we visited.”

He goes on to recall the few locations he’d found a liking to, admiring the history and cultural significance of each that Barbatos had explained to him, the various architectural designs and artistic liberties that define Mondstadt’s trademarks. The motifs of the cobbled streets, the poems framed and hung inside windmills serving as charms for Barbatos’ blessings, even the theme of the patterns carved on many a doorplate—Morax seems to have been quite fascinated by them.

He wears a different expression when he talks about the things that strikes his fancy. A slight upturn of his lips, the faintest crinkles at the corner of his eyes. Even his voice adopts a different tone, laced with a smallest hint of excitement—perhaps even joy, because someone cares to listen.

Barbatos could listen to him like this for an eternity, if he had the chance.

“You’re staring at me,” Morax stops to say at some point, a slight knit across his brow. Barbatos supposes he must be wearing quite the expression, for him to look at him like that. But he could not help it; after all, who wouldn’t be utterly captivated by someone as quietly radiant as this god before him?

“I think I'm in love with you, Morax.”

Are the words that take form, a confession he’s surely taken long enough to make. He no longer even remembers when was the first time it’d dawned him, that his feelings for Morax had progressed into something that wasn’t platonic. How many years has it been since he started seeing him with a different sort of admiration, with the barely suppressible urge of wanting to be closer to him?

Morax blinks at him once, twice. Processing what he’s just heard; understandable, as it really had come out of nowhere.

Then he averts his gaze, reaching to cover his mouth as a wave of red creeps up his entire face.

“Why don’t you tell me that again when you’re sober?” he mumbles into his hand, and Barbatos effectively short-circuits for a moment.

“This is the most sober I’ve been all day, though???”

Morax is adamant, shifting to turn away from him as though to physically end the conversation. “That’s what a drunk person would say. Now stop talking and go back to sleep.”

“No, no, no, isn’t this a little sudden?? Morax??” Barbatos is half laughing now, seeing how desperately Morax is trying to deal with his own embarrassment. It is surprisingly contagious, though; even he’s starting to feel a little shy the longer he badgers him.

“Morax?? Heyyy, Morax? Rex Lapis?”

And yet he refuses to let it stop him. He can see how red Morax’s ears are even from behind him like this. Barbatos pokes at his back, a mix of fondness and mischief welling in his chest when the idea occurs to him.

He squirms forward, closing the little distance between them.

“Zhongli.”

Morax tenses at that, the slightest reaction that Barbatos would’ve missed if he as much as blinked. He's...really cute when he’s like this. Part of Barbatos refuses to believe that this is happening. Morax, the Geo Archon, the honourable Rex Lapis, Adepti Prime—has this absurdly adorable side to him.

“Zhongli,” Barbatos dares to say again, just to see what other sort of response he could elicit from him. “Zhongli.”

He leans out of the way just in time before Morax twists to face him once more, bracing himself for a well-deserved smack—but is instead pulled into a tight embrace.

“You’re so obnoxious,” Morax says, his exasperation obvious even in his quiet tone. Barbatos smiles as he returns the hug with just a much intensity, leaning into their contact with a sigh, a swell of his heart.

Morax is much warmer than he could’ve ever imagined.  

xXx

They say that both the Geo and Anemo Archons are fond of disguising as humans, often descending from their divine residence in Celestia to mingle with the commonfolk of their respective nations.

No one knows what are their preferred appearances, as oftentimes they are indistinguishable from the everyday person. No one knows if they preferred to present as men or women or even children, or if the rumours of them taking human form even hold any truth. After all, who’s to say they wouldn’t choose to appear as an animal, a sprite, or perhaps a fragment of the elements they embody?

Not many in the nations of Liyue and Mondstadt have ever had the chance to see their respective gods, nor to realize that they’ve lain eyes upon them at all. It is something the people have accepted to simply leave up to chance, as there is no point to obsessing over the miniscule possibility of coming face to face with the deity they worship. There are enough mundane things worth paying attention to on the daily; the clarity of the skies, the specials available in the markets, the trees newly bearing fruit.

A particular sight has grown more common as well within the borders of the two neighbouring nations in recent years, one of a pair often spotted strolling together through the busy city streets, the bustling villages, and even the vast wilderness, when the weather is agreeable.

Should one have their stars aligned just right, they may just chance upon a certain bard and gentleman, both usually engrossed in jovial chatter or some lighthearted bickering no matter the location. Oddly out of place sometimes, seeming right at home the rest. Greet them if you wish, and they would usually respond warmly in return. But take heed, at times you may notice their hands linked and fingers intertwined, the pair lost in a world of their own—and that will be your sign to give space, for even gods would appreciate a little time to themselves.

[chessdaze]

@khoc-week ⭐ Day 1 - 8/1 

◾ Reference Sheet 

I actually drew one for Sid last year but I decided to update it. His design overall hasn’t changed it’s mostly my style that has - and the quality of my work so I’m glad I was able to redo him for this year. I really want people to get to know him properly this time. 

I’ll repost the original world lore and his background below, but I also want to answer the prompt question In character so here’s that:

◾ How would your character describe themselves?

“Eh, what kinda question is that?” Sid raises an eyebrow, but it’s barely noticeable over his large round sunglasses. “I dunno, smart, stubborn, and uhhhh tough?” There’s a pause. “I was one o’ the only kids t’ even go t’ school back in the city, and Helio and Mari never fuckin’ give me a moment t’ breathe without telling me o’ my stubbornness. As for tough, well, the muscles ain’t for show, I guess.”

“What ya askin’ me this for anyhow? I got work t’ be doin’, these houses won’t build themselves.” 

Now for world info and sid’s bio:

the world trapped in a desert

The Basics

Cindergate is a city that has seemingly seen disasters, parts of the city are being rebuilt and other parts completely abandoned and falling apart. It’s cut off from the vast desert around it by a large, also crumbling, gate. The city has a mix of technology, though seems to shun anything too ‘high tech’.

The city has a population of tough individuals who know how to survive in harsh conditions. Most of the population in this world are human, with occasional animals who can also survive the harsh sun and heat. These people are ruled over by one family - who govern and help make and enforce laws. Because of this the head of the family is often referred to as ‘sheriff’. The family keeps laws strict in the town. There is one law in particular that the sheriff is always eager to punish those for breaking-

The Keyblade Wielder Ban

The people of Cindergate are aware of the keyblade, heartless, the worlds, etc - however they consider Keyblade wielders evil, no matter who they are or what their motivations may be. They believe that the wielders are dragging darkness into the world and are the reason so many heartless live in the desert that surrounds the city. The city has to constantly beat the heartless back, and are the reason why a good portion of the city has been abandoned or is always needing to be rebuilt.

It has been the tradition of the world for a while that if a wielder is found, they are to be branded as a traitor to the city - both metaphorically and literally. After a trial to determine if someone is a wielder or not - they are branded with a mark in the shape of a keyhole. Then they are dragged through the city and out to the gates that surround it. The wielders are then exiled, pushed out to the near lifeless desert. The people of the city will often attack them with weapons or throw objects at them to make sure they don’t try to run back into the city. They consider the wielders ‘sacrifices’ to the heartless to keep them at bay.

At times the heartless in the desert will get the better of the wielders with no training. Those who manage to survive their first day and night have the chance to come across a safehaven made by wielders in the reaches of the desert and on the edges of a canyon.

Landscape.

The city is the mix of a steampunk and wild west setting. There are some technology around the city but it’s big, clunky, and steam or coal powered. The part of the city that has been abandoned has a chance of heartless sneaking in, and so there are people here who patrol at night on occasion but besides that at times kids sneak into the area to play - but it’s strictly forbidden to do so and they will be punished if they do.

The desert surrounding the city is vast and nearly lifeless. Aside from the heartless, there are few plants and animals that live there.

Past the nearly lifeless desert is an area of plateaus and canyons. Within this area those who have been exiled from the city attempt to make a living. They find items that the people of cindergate ‘sacrifice’ to the heartless, (pieces of machinery, cloth, food, etc) and try to repurpose it for their own needs. There’s a bit more life in this area, but not much in terms of subsistence.

The Survivors

The wielders and those who were exiled with them (family members who hid them, other accomplices, and even people who were falsely convicted of being a wielder) have been managing to survive so far, though it’s a constant struggle. They’ve made houses out of spare pieces of wood, tarp, scrap metal, and hide themselves in as much shade as they possibly can.

Some practice with their keyblades in order to get a handle on their abilities and fight off heartless that come near the safe haven. Others completely shun the fact that they can use a keyblade and refuse to wield it. Those who are not wielders try to contribute by making food or volunteering for other odd jobs. There are also wielders dedicated to finding a way off world.

AND NOW THAT THAT’S OUT OF THE WAY -

Sid’s about:

Born to the ruling family of Cindergate, Sid had everything handed to him on a silver platter. And he hated it. He couldn’t wrap his head around the strict rules of the town or the terrible court system. Any time he would try to speak up on this though was met with punishment from his parents. So he decided to bide his time, becoming their perfect ‘puppet’ so that he could become the leader one day and change things for the better.

While still considered a bit of a rebel, his parents at least ‘admired his change of heart’ and let him walk around Cindergate freely. While growing up he made two friends - a girl name Mari and a boy named Helio. The three of them were practically inseparable, they were some of the only ones that didn’t care who Sid was related to. He could be himself around them, and so he vowed to keep them safe most out of everyone in the town.

Mari revealed to the boys one day that she was a keyblade wielder - which was a terrible discovery. Keyblade Wielders were banned from Cindergate and it she was found to be a wielder she would be arrested, branded, and exiled to the harsh desert that surrounded the town. The desert that was filled with heartless. At the same time Helio revealed himself to be a wielder as well - having been one of the longest out of all of them, since he was a child. He knew better than anyone what would happen to wielders who got caught as his mother had been cast out when he was a child. Sid promised that he wouldn’t let them get caught and that he would lift the ban, they just needed to keep their keyblades hidden until he became the leader of the town.

This was easier said than done, especially since Sid would come to be a wielder as well. An old friend of his family invited Sid to his deathbed. This old man revealed how close Sid’s father and him used to be, and how they had a dream to make Cindergate a thriving place. But Sid’s father had done nothing more than oppress the people and make the ban more strict than it needed to be. So the old man had a solution - to pass on the power of the keyblade to Sid. He had kept it hidden all of his life, hoping that one day Sid’s father would change his mind on the ban - but he never did. In his last moments he forced Sid to take the power of the keyblade from him, saying it was Sid’s responsibility now, before passing.

Sid was terrified and furious with the power he had been given. Yes, he had been wanting to make CinderGate a better place for wielders and non wielders alike but - he didn’t want it to be like this. Still, he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. He told his friends of his new found gift and worked to become even more like the 'perfect’ leader his parents wanted him to be, just so he could take over quicker and get the stupid ban taken down.

Not long after this, Helio and Mari were caught for being keyblade wielders. Sid stood up to his parents to try and get them to see reason. When they still wouldn’t listen he revealed himself as a wielder in front of the whole town - saying if they were going to throw out his friends they would have to throw out him as well.

And they did, but not before branding him as a traitor - literally. They burned the keyhole shaped brand onto the side of his face before exiling him,Helio, and Mari out of the town. The three ran until they couldn’t anymore, fought off heartless, then collapsed with laughter - surprised but grateful they were still alive.

A while longer of traveling lead them to a survivor camp. Other people like them who had been exiled from Cindergate. It wasn’t much, but it became home for the three wielders. Sid took it upon himself to improve the day to day lives of the survivors by building various machines and other contraptions to make life easier for them. But still, it wasn’t enough. Thanks to his parents hoard of keyblade wielder knowledge (because how else were they supposed to fight off such a 'threat’ without an entire library full of knowledge?), he knew of other worlds and he knew that the keyblade could get them there. He just wasn’t sure how to unlock the power. None of the survivors were masters by any means, some of them didn’t even have a keyblade - and were friends or family of wielders exiled or falsely accused and wanted nothing to do with the keyblade.

Sid, taking another burden onto his shoulders, did the only thing he could think he could accomplish - he made himself and his two friends keyblade armor. He hoped that with the armor they could brave the passages in between worlds and find a way to get all the survivors to a new home.

[bybibucky]

Give Me All - Pt. 8

Bucky Barnes Modern AU - Part 8 feat. Natasha Romanov

    After a series of disappointing experiences with wannabe-doms, you give this last new one a chance and he not only makes you forget every other man you’ve been with but also your own name.

    word count: 3.9k

    warnings: smut (18+ please), mentions of dom/sub relationship, Bucky x reader x Nat, bisexual!reader, besides that this part is acutally quite tame haha

     A/N: I know it’s been a while but I just found time, ideas, and motivation to continue this so here we areeee. Please give feedback/comments/reblogs, it’s my number one source of happiness haha

You would have growled in frustration had it not been for the fact that you were in public and still too close to your office to not be noticed by your co-workers. This day had been… a day. A bad one, to say the least. You didn’t want to talk about it. The memory would be enough to taunt you until you got your mind off of it. But Bucky didn’t pick up the phone.

It was your birthday, and Bucky had been dodging your calls all day. Ever since he’d gone on his trip for work two weeks ago, you had been strung up for several reasons: the most obvious once being horniness, which was always given with his absence, the other being you day that was going horribly, and then there was the fact that Bucky wouldn’t be home on your birthday, or at least, not until late in the night. The only upside was that it was Friday, so you could sleep in tomorrow and have a cozy day with your fiancé.

You went home to his place that had slowly but surely become yours as well. Except for a few kitchen items and some furniture, everything was there and you had plans to hand over the keys to your apartment to your roommate once she’d found a replacement for you. But nothing, when you let the door fall shut behind you, was like you had left it. One major thing was out of place and it was the giant bouquet of an arrangement of your favorite flowers that sat in a large vase on the kitchen island. You certainly didn’t remember that being there this morning, nor the boxes with bows that most definitely held presents for you. It was your birthday, and Bucky was in his element, that’s what he had said days ago.

Both of you were, even weeks after the day he’d gotten down on one knee in front of you, still in the post-proposal honeymoon phase, and somehow, that made Bucky even more eager to shower you in presents. To you, the diamond on your finger was more than enough for at least the next ten years. It made you insanely happy every time you looked at it. But this, this was beyond what you could have imagined. You wanted to call out for him, but knowing him, you also knew that he wasn’t the type to hide behind a corner and surprise you. He was more hands-on. Nonetheless, this was gorgeous. Given the chance, you would have exchanged all of these presents for a day spent with him, but you appreciated them anyway.

You started with the note that was attached to the flowers.

Dearest Y/N,

Happy birthday. I wish I could be there personally right now, but I hope you enjoy my presents as much as I’ll enjoy your presence once I’m back tonight.

Love, Bucky

You rolled your eyes fondly at the pun, but couldn’t help the grin that switched into an expression of awe when you opened the first gift. Inside was a gorgeous, sleek black dress that would most definitely look amazing on you. He just knew what you liked even more than you did. Wear it for me tonight, said another note that you found in the box. The other presents Bucky had gotten you all matched this one. The shoes, the jewelry, the beautiful lingerie set all went together perfectly in a well-planned outfit. You wondered what his plans were for the day, but you couldn’t wait to find out.

Needless to say you looked absolutely ravishing once you’d put on everything. The dress and shoes fit comfortably, and the jewelry just put a cherry on top. You’d kept your hair and makeup natural and when you took a glance at yourself in the mirror, you were certain you’d never felt prettier than this. Bucky wouldn’t believe his eyes.

And he didn’t. Once the door fell shut behind him, he had already dropped and forgotten his bag, eyes fixed on you and you only. “God, I’m good,” he breathed, “spin for me.”

You could do nothing but smile shyly as you obliged. He was right in front of you when you faced him again.

“I had plans for tonight but I’m beginning to think we’d have more fun if I kept you tied to my bed all night.”

“Ha, you wish.” You stepped out of his grasp. “I didn’t get all dolled-up for nothing.”

“Hey.” He pulled you back into him with an arm around your waist. “I’m not nothing.”

You laughed. “Of course not. But I wanna find out what your plans are.”

“Mhm, I bet you do,” he said, “do you want a normal night or do you want to play?”

It wasn’t a question you needed to think about. “Play, please.”

His eyes lit up. “I was hoping you’d say that.” One hand reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out yet another box. “One more thing, though.” And with the way he opened the present for you, you knew that he was already in charge. Inside was a thin silk chocker whose two bands met in the middle in a small silver ring. Attached, was a tiny little diamond that matched your engagement ring.

“Is this…”

“Yes, baby,” Bucky said, “I want you to wear this collar whenever we play in public.” Smiling at your wide eyes, he pulled the collar from its place in the box to fasten it around your neck, loose enough not to hinder your breathing, but tight enough for you to definitely feel it.

Bucky stepped away, then, reaching out to pull you with him towards the door.

:::::

The restaurant had been barely lit. The chandeliers above your head had offered enough light that you had seen your plate and Bucky, the table the only thing between you two. And while the food had been delicious, you hadn’t really been able to concentrate on it, as your mind had been too occupied by your task. Because tonight, you weren’t in the position to complain or decline an order he gave, you hadn’t refused. Consequently, a pair of panties, soaked to an embarrassing degree, now happily sat stuffed into the front right pocket of Bucky’s dress pants. At least, you dress was tight, so it wouldn’t just blow away and expose you, but that meant that it had been considerably difficult for you to take them off right there in the me middle of the restaurant without anyone noticing.

You were getting into the right headspace to submit more and more each passing second, and Bucky could tell. In the car park, you had begged him to touch you, desperate to the point where he had to shove you into the backseat and drape you over his lap. No panties where in the way once the hem of your dress was bunched around your waist, and he didn’t waste any time bringing his hand down harshly. The only thing that kept you from exclaiming profanities that would earn you several more slaps was the metal hand on your mouth.

“Keep quiet,” he said, tone considerably deeper than just a few minutes ago in the restaurant, “we don’t want anyone to overhear, do we?” It was a rhetorical question. Of course you didn’t. God knows what strangers would think if they were to walk by too closely and hear him punish you.

When Bucky made his way back to the front seat, you stayed behind where you could shift your weight away from your burning cheeks without getting noticed. He had done quite the number on you and the night had just started.

You stared off into the blurry lights of the buildings you passed and perked up when Bucky pulled up in front of a club. It had been a while since you last had been in a place like this, but with him by your side, you were beyond excited. Maybe, he would have you dance for him, or with him, even.

He ordered for you. He was in charge, after all, but the drink was nice. Not too strong but not fruity either and you gratefully accepted it. You knew it would most likely stay your first any only drink of the night – not counting the glass of wine you had had with your dinner – because Bucky always wanted a clear head that he could bring to subspace. Otherwise, it would be too dangerous, especially for what he had planned tonight.

“Dance for me,” he whispered into your ear, his lips grazing the skin at the base of your neck as he pushed you towards the dance floor. Your drink stayed with him for safekeeping. The strappy high heels at your feet didn’t do much for grace, but they brought a nice curve to your body when you began to sway your hips, your back to Bucky. Unsurprisingly, his eyes were fixated on you, when you turned. The beat strung your body like a musician would his instrument, and you moved for Bucky like your life depended on it. There was no saying how sexy you actually looked – from his position, he mostly only saw your head and the occasional tilt of your hips when the people between you were just out of sight enough.

But the tension was immaculate, even when strange hands settled on your waist. You hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in so long you almost didn’t recognize it, but the weight on your skin was too dainty to not be Bucky’s, even not considering that you were staring into his eyes all the way from across the room. His nod allowed you to indulge in the embrace of the woman behind you, and the bare skin of your back caught soft breasts. She swung her hips for you, moving you against her front with the rhythm. It was much too loud to make out any melody, but the beat was making your heart thump against your ribcage in its own pattern.

Either Bucky’s eyes were darkening or you were imagining it. But either way, you loved the sight. You wanted him with you, above you, inside you. The woman could join, you didn’t care and you hadn’t even seen her face yet.

Her lips met your neck after having pushed aside your hair and you almost pushed her away, but Bucky shook his head, telling you to go on. This had apparently become part of the game for tonight. Maybe, he would spin it so that it looked like you had been trying to cheat so that he could punish you. Maybe, he’d use her as leverage against you in the playroom. Maybe, maybe.

In a moment of bravery, you spun in her arms and she instantly pressed her knee between your thighs. It was too much, but still not enough. You wanted to be touched just like this, but not by her. It felt wrong but good at the same time. Looking up, you couldn’t make out her face entirely, but the hair that, even under the colorful lights, seemed a bright red, framed it in neat, pretty curls.

Her arms fell onto your shoulders and yours settled on her waist in response. You stayed like that, swinging to the music that had switched to a different unrecognizable song. It was hot, and comfortable enough for you to almost let lose. Right until you caught Bucky’s eye over her shoulder. He raised a brow, unimpressed. He wasn’t yet in the mood to punish, but definitely getting there. You decided it was time you brought his attention back to him before he could make his move.

Smiling apologetically, you detached yourself from her arms – she wouldn’t have heard you speak over the music anyway – and squeezed through the hundreds of bodies back to your fiancé. Unsurprisingly, he pulled you close, right between his spread legs so he could hook one of them around your ankles possessively. His lips were on you in an instant and you could tell he was hungry for it. This was the first proper kiss in two weeks and neither of you cared who else was present to be a witness to it. But your thoughts – just a tiny part of them – were fixed on the woman from before. And no matter where you two went in the club, you always caught her eye almost periodically.

You were in a dilemma situation. The woman was absolutely stunning, now that you had seen her entirely. She was wearing a skin-tight black dress that hugged every curve of her practically flawless body, the thin material leaving little to the imagination. Red hair curled to perfection flowing down one of her shoulders, vibrant green eyes following your every move, intrigued. You wanted her, deep down, and you were almost certain she felt the same.

But nothing was going to happen, not tonight, not ever. At least, as long as you were with Bucky and you intended to have that be the case for a long time.

Bucky noticed you staring at her – you couldn't help it, really – and you would have been ashamed were it not for the warm hand that crept its way up your thigh, dangerously close to your core.

He slowly kissed the back of your neck. “Like what you see?”

You were putty in his hands, had been ever since he had gotten home and, just by his gaze, threatened to take you on every piece of furniture that was strong enough to hold you up, and you couldn’t stop yourself from nodding against him.

“Me, too,” he confessed with a smile on his lips.

He continued to hold you close to his chest, though he didn't touch you any further, the heat and want radiating off him was enough to have your feel light-headed. “I'm gonna go to the ladies' room real quick.”

He let go of you and once he had seen you disappear into the hallway that led to the bathrooms, Bucky sent a wink to the woman across the room. She responded with a knowing smile and got up, vanishing from his sight in the crowd.

:::::

You longed to splash some cold water in your face but were faced with two problems: your carefully applied makeup and the fact that you were in one of the stalls and not in front of the sink. But you didn't want to get out, either, feeling weirdly secure in that tiny space you had right now. You needed to gather your thoughts before you got back out there, back to Bucky.

Trying to get yourself to focus, you gave yourself a slap to the thigh – again, makeup – but realized instantly that that had only made you hotter and more desperate. Maybe you should buy yourself a glass of water at the bar. With ice.

Yeah, that was probably for the best. That way, with a clearer head, you could tell your fiancé that you longed for him to dominate you again. The last time he had really gone for it was shortly after he’d proposed and that was almost a month ago. Way too much time wasted, in your opinion. So, you forced yourself out before he could send someone in to come check up on you, though not before making sure his ring was still on your finger, and made your way back to his side. However, when you got to the place at the bar where you had left him a few minutes ago, he was nowhere in sight. Stranded in a huge and fucking crowded club, great. Before you had the chance to actually panic, though, you heard a voice behind you.

“Date left you hanging?” The sultry tone instantly sent a shiver down your spine and you prayed to all the gods or whomever that it didn't belong to the gorgeous redhead. But of course, it did.

“What's your name, darling?” she asked once you had turned around to face her. She was even more beautiful up close and in the light.

You swallowed. “Y/N.” This was not good. Where the hell was Bucky?

The corners of her mouth quirked upward. “Are you nervous, Y/N?”

You nodded and mentally scolded yourself for it a second later.

“Afraid your boyfriend's gonna find out you're flirting with a strange woman?” The way she cocked her head to the side and the way she spoke to you like that, it painfully reminded you of Bucky.

And you felt the need to say yes. Not only to oblige her – damn your submissive ass – but to also gently tell her to back off because, no, you were neither single nor interested. Though to be fair, you couldn’t say you weren’t interested, hypothetically, but you were never going to do anything about it. And you weren't going to fall in love with her, either, no matter what way you went. You loved Bucky.

Speaking of.

“No need for that, baby,” he whispered into your ear from behind and your heart momentarily stopped beating. “Don't be spooked. I'm not mad.”

“You're not?” you asked with wide eyes, still staring at the woman who was now looking at Bucky behind you with an expression you couldn't put a name to.

“You told me I'd get more time with her.” The disappointed tone in her voice confused you to no end. What was going on?

He ran his hand up your arm, coming to rest on the nape of your neck. “Sorry, Nat, couldn't keep just watching. I had to join.”

“What?” You were utterly helpless.

“Happy Birthday.” Bucky added a few kisses to his words onto the skin just below your ear.

“What?” you asked again, this time speaking to the outstretched hand of the woman.

“Hi, I'm Natasha,” she said, “and I'm your birthday present.”

:::::

It started off innocently enough, but you were on your toes the entire time anyway. Bucky lead the both of you to the exit, a hand on either waist as your eyes darted around the room to catch the glare of envious strangers that you knew were longing to be in Bucky’s place. They had no idea.

He opened the doors to his car, offering you the passenger seat like you were used to. The only exception, this time, was that Natasha smoothly slipped in the back seat. Up until this point, you hadn’t been able to keep your eyes off of her, catching your gaze that found her again and again and now, in the car, that didn’t change. Your attention flickered from your fiancé to the image of your so-called birthday present in the side mirror. It was maddening.

Bucky’s hand found your thigh at a red light, just barely pushing up the fabric of your dress, and because he had chosen his automatic car for the evening, he didn’t have to let go when the light turned green.

A gasp flew out of your mouth so suddenly that you almost choked on it when Natasha reached for your neck from behind, pushing your hair to the side. Bucky snickered and you could hear her breath so incredibly close to your ear it was driving you insane.

“She does have a sensitive neck,” Natasha remarked when your breathing only quickened under her touch.

“Told you.” Bucky was looking at you through the corner of his eye, a sly smirk on his lips.

You were still waiting for the curtain to fall, for them to start laughing, to tell you it was all a joke. But the moment never came. Bucky pulled into parking garage of the club and the air was still thick with all sorts of emotions. Want, lust, your undeniable nervousness, and utter excitement. You wanted this, you realized in that instant and your fear turned into heat pooling in your center.

There weren’t any rules like you were used to. Bucky hadn’t told you what you were allowed to do and what was off limits. You were certain that he had discussed your dynamics with Natasha beforehand but you were still being thrown in the water. When Bucky opened the door for you, you leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Can we talk for a second, please?”

His whole demeanor changed. Gone was the dom the moment he took you by the hand and led you away from the car. “If you don’t want this, we can stop. You know that, right?”

You gave a sigh of relief. “No, I want this. I’m just not sure about the rules.”

Bucky smiled softly. “There are no rules except the ones that already apply. You are to enjoy this fully. Nothing with her is off limits. She’s filthier than we are, trust me. One thing, though, she’ll order you around in there and you’ll oblige, but you are still owned by me and me only. My word over hers.”

That made you smile in return. “Okay, thank you.”

He searched your eyes for signs of hesitation but when he saw nothing, he gave you a nod and pulled you back towards the car to collect Natasha and a gym bag he got from the trunk.

Again, the three of you walked side by side, but this time, he was holding hands with you, not touching Natasha. On wobbly knees, you tried to walk as steadily as possible and luckily, the room he lead you to, the one he always rented, wasn’t too far away. Too preoccupied in your head, you didn’t notice him checking you in at the front desk nor how he let go of your hand to unlock the door. Only when he stood in front of you and took your face in his hands, softly calling your name, did you come back to the present.

“Everything okay? Are you with me?”

You nodded, you throat suddenly too dry to form words.

Natasha plucked the gym bag from his shoulder, peeking inside. You didn’t know this, but she had requested a few items specifically. Bucky, on the other hand, pulled you in for a kiss that warmed you from the inside and had heat pooling between your legs even more than there already was. You wanted this and on top of everything, it was one of the best birthday presents you had ever received – at least, you hoped so.

When he pulled away, there was barely an inch between your noses and he was still close enough for you to feel his breath. You knew you were safe with him. If he trusted a person – Natasha – like this, he knew exactly what he was doing and who that person was. You wanted this.

Stepping back, his eyes were fixed on you when Natasha was suddenly in your line of sight. She wore a she studied you, hands relaxed by her sides. You didn’t know where to go from here, but one of them would tell you, you just needed to wait.

A quick glance between her and Bucky that told you that a huge amount of this was planned meticulously, and then she spoke. “You ready, darling?”

You nodded. You wanted this.

[kbmercer]

Ch.1, Pt.2/2: Long Time, No See

[Life’s A Journey]

Summary:

A lot had happened after they parted ways. Nevertheless, the threads that tie them together remained. From children to adults, a reunion that’s long overdue leads the trio to embark on another journey.

Just like old times.

Word Count: 2.5k+

(Y/n)’s day starts with a phone call. The trill of Rotom’s ringtone jolts them from their sleep. Groggily lifting themself up to assume a seated position in the hotel bed, (e/c) peek from cracked eyelids to view the screen that hovers in front of them. Seeing the smiling face of Sonia tugs as little smile of their own as they prompt the Rotom Phone to answer their childhood friend over the line.

“Hey-yo, Sonia! How’s it going?”

“Nothing much. Just wanted to call before I get to work. How are you doing? Are you having a good time in Hoenn?” (Y/n)’s smile grows into a lazy grin. There is a nine-hour time difference between Galar and Hoenn, so it was a given that Sonia would think it was later within the day for them. Shifting to note the time: 9:36am, the trainer pulls themselves from under the covers to get ready.

“It’s grand. Mauville is so large I could get lost in it and the hot-springs of Lavaridge are to die for,” they play along. Entering the restroom, they grab a cloth and lather it to clean their face.

“Oooh, sounds like a dream. A spa day sounds good right about now. Note to self, stop by Circhester when I’m free.” (Y/n) discards the cloth before moving to grab their toothbrush.

“Eh. Those are just the places I managed to visit in my free time. I wish I could’ve seen more, but that’s kind of hard when you’re traveling for work.”

“I guess that’s true. How is work, by the way?” (Y/n) groans.

“Same old. There’ve been a lot of interesting things we’ve come across, but it seems we’re walking in circles instead of a straight line.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Yes, quite unfortunate indeed. With that being said, my efforts in researching has come to an end for now…I have to get back to Unova soon to fulfill my duties there.” Their words were muffled by the toothpaste in their mouth, still Sonia understands their words just barely. Laughing at hearing bristles on teeth over the line, the woman reclines in the seat in front of her vanity.

“You just never know how to sit down, do you? I don’t know how you do it, y’know. Having work at home and then moving to do work elsewhere? Do you ever take a break???” A thoughtful and long-drawn hum leaves (Y/n)’s lips. Did stopping by Galar count as a break? Maybe, but it would be a rather short one considering they’d only be here for the next few days. Though they can’t tell her that. It’d ruin the surprise visit.

Damn. Sonia’s right.

“Now that I think about it…” silence follows. Neither of the two say anything for a moment before Sonia eventually continues.

“Take more care of yourself…OK?”

Their eyebrows furrow. Quickly muting Rotom Phone to rinse and spit, they unmute to reassure their orange-haired friend.

“Hey, don’t worry about me too much, alright. I’m doing fine. Sure, I may not be taking breaks like I probably should, but I’m not wearing myself to the bone either. I rest plenty, trust me.”

“…”

“Sonia?” (Y/n) hears her sigh over the line.

             “I believe you. It’s just that it’s kinda hard to keep a good work-life balance. Just wanna make sure you’re keeping it level.”

             “It’s as level as I can possibly make it.” They chirp before making a smug face. It’s clear that Sonia has something else to say. The undercurrent of her worried words are heartwarming, and (Y/n) dramatically press their hands over their heart in reverence.

              “You looove me,” they tease to which Sonia stutters a laugh.

             “Oh, hush,” the laughter they share eventually dies down into a comfortable quiet.

             “Well. I’m gonna turn in for the day. Talk to you later.”

             “Yeah. Talk to you later.”

Ending the call, (Y/n) promptly shuffles through their luggage for an outfit. Keeping it plain and simple they decide on a cozy white sweater and some black trousers before changing. In no more than five minutes they’ve grabbed their trainer bag and key card before heading out the door.

Meanwhile, after the line had cut Sonia slowly brought the barrel brush she held down her hair. As she continued to brush she takes a glance at herself in the mirror. A mildly forlorn look shone in her emerald eyes her brows twinged emphasizing her sadness. She wished she could say it—that she missed them. After they had left seven years ago it felt like their friendship had slowly chipped away, not just with her but also with Leon. Though, she supposed that the three growing older and separating to pursue their own endeavors would make that inevitable. Still, traveling the world without so much as an occasional visit left the ginger to question more apart from what she already questioned. Lost in her thoughts, she feels a tiny pressure around her ankle. Looking down, Sonia sees Yamper staring at her head tilted to one side with a concerned look. Sighing, she shakes her head and reaches down to pet the little electric type.

“Sonia, dear. We’ll be leaving soon.” She hears Magnolia outside of her room. Taking a deep breath, she lifts herself from in front of her vanity grabbing the grey clips and placing them on her loose pony before heading to the kitchen. She’d need to eat something for the long day she had ahead of her.

                Hop leisurely eats a muffin as he eyes his Rotom Phone. He had been waiting for (Y/n)’s message ever since he woke up this morning and was beginning to grow impatient. Though he trusted them to remember to notify him, so he stayed put.

“Hey.” His older brother’s voice draws Hop’s attention away from his phone. Leon was dressed in the usual battle tower attire as he takes a seat at the table across from him.

“You said you’d tell who gifted me these,” he grasps the Key and Mega Stones in hand. “A Key Stone and Mega Stone—very rare items to come across. Items highly sought after by skilled trainers, with most being possessed by the elite.”

“Ah. So, you do know what they are.”

“I almost didn’t remember. I likely wouldn’t if it weren’t for the books at my desk. Now, spill. Who gave you these?”

Before the younger can answer, Rotom Phone impedes his vision showing a new text had been received.

‘Morning, Hopscotch! On the way to Mag’s and Sonia’s. Don’t wait up!’

A bright smile shines on the teen’s face dismissing his device. Leon raises a brow. Whatever Hop saw on his phone has him super chipper.

“Well! When I was on my way to the lab yesterday, I was met with a surprise visit.” Amber eyes stare into his own as Leon silently urges him to continue. Hop takes in an excited breath of air.

“It was (Y/n)! They were in Wedgehurst last night and—”

“What?!” Leon exclaims. The ex-champion is out of his seat with an expression of both surprise and disbelief. After seven years of travel, they finally make their return to Galar? A surprise visit? Nobody was given any prior knowledge of this happening? It took Hop to be at the right place at the right time to meet with them?

“So that’s why you returned home late!?”

“Yeah! They gave me the Stones to give to you and told me not to tell until today. Sorry not sorry.” Giving a shrug, Hop recognizes the blank look that has since replaced his brother’s shock. It was easy to determine that the news he received had him thinking, reminiscing, and questioning. Yet, the younger doesn’t give Lee any room to get lost in his mind. With a push of the shoulder, Hop brings Leon from his subconscious.

“Lighten up a little. I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on but standing here isn’t going to help you.”

Having a lot to catch up on was an understatement. Perhaps it was foolish of him to think that (Y/n)’s travels wouldn’t stretch over such a long time span. Regardless he couldn’t help but miss them. Despite the occasional talks they would have with each other, their conversations were often short-lived. The man couldn’t help but to feel guilty about this. Being champion at the time was no easy feat; taking on heavy-handed tasks and putting on a smile for the people of Galar kept him busy—more than he’d like to admit. As they both became adults, it was clear that (Y/n) too had grown busy in their own regard. Listening to them speak about different regional cultures, the sights to see, the food to eat, the pokémon to meet, the events to partake, and their League experiences was something Leon took great joy in doing. Those calls have since been very few and far between. So, what happened? What new journeys had they taken throughout the time they hadn’t spoken? What new accomplishments had they made that he hasn’t yet been told about?

Running a hand through his hair with one hand he uses his other to grab the pokéball of his trusty Charizard before letting him out. With a firm roar, his companion gives an expectant look, having heard the conversation completely.

“We won’t be going very far. (Y/n) had yet to meet with Sonia and Professor Magnolia, so they’re on their way to their house.” Hop shows Leon the notification on his Rotom Phone. It’s proof enough to have the older on his way out the door.

“Then, that’s where we’re headed. Let’s fly,” he makes haste. The younger is at his heels chewing the remainder of his morning snack as they exit.

  The walk down Route Two was a rather slow one. (Y/n) had expected to get to their destination some time ago, but the nostalgia of traveling down the familiar path enticed them to lag. Some things just didn’t change; same trees, same bushes, same patches of tall grass, same gigantic lake. 50 years could pass, and nature would remain—a nice prospect to think about. (Y/n) could feel Poppy grow restless in his pokéball, so they move to release him. The Venusaur takes in his surroundings just as (Y/n) did and releases a joyful grunt.

“Man! All the memories are flooding in. It’s insane!” The trainer gives Poppy a pat on the head. “We’d train here all the time. Sonia would teach us about type advantages and we’d all practice how to throw a pokéball.”

Continuing forward (Y/n) makes out the familiar layout of a battle pitch before eyeing the house that resided behind it. (Y/n) could hardly contain their excitement and raced ahead and rapping their knuckles against the study door. They could faintly hear movement within the building.

             “I’ll get it,” the voice was no doubt their friend’s. They can’t help the megawatt smile that rapidly grows on their face. The ginger woman opens the door with a rather blank look, though her expression changes quickly upon finding out who it is. Her green eyes are wide—bewildered; she had halted in chewing the apple that she had in hand and stares. Seconds pass before (Y/n) casts a glance at their starter.

             “Poppy, I think I broke Son—” they are quickly cut off by a warm and strangling embrace. Was Sonia always physically strong, or was this just a special occasion? Giving a small laugh and returning the hug. It was so great to see their childhood friend again.

             “If you take this long to come back again, I’ll kill you,” she cries. The words are muffled by their sweater as she cries on their shoulder her embrace getting tighter. The sound of light footsteps behind the embrace draws their attention.

“What is all the fuss about, Sonia?” They both hear the professor query, viewing her granddaughter hold (Y/n) close. It isn’t until the veteran cranes their neck to show their face more clearly that the elder notices. An expression of surprise shows before it is quickly replaced with something softer and more welcoming. “Oh my, if it isn’t (Y/n)! Welcome back, my dear.”

“Hey-yo, Mags! How’s everything?”

“All is well, my dear.”

             Sonia had since released them from their hug, but not a moment passes before (Y/n) hears additional footsteps. The sound of feet on pavement was rapid as if somebody, or in this case somebodies, were running. Hearing shouts of their name, they turn around to face the culprits. Taking Sonia’s hand, they exuberantly wave down the path upon seeing Hop and Leon. The younger makes it to the two first, bringing them into another hug. The group of three becomes four a second later as the older joins completing the embrace. In contrast to the cool autumn wind that wafted throughout, the cozy warmth of having everyone huddled together was perfect. (E/c) glance at the ex-champion, his head laid atop theirs as their height allowed it. He looked comfy—relaxed; a rare expression for him to have and (Y/n) couldn’t help but feel touched to catch him like this. Giving the man a slight nudge, his eyes crack open to peek downward. Golden eyes meld into (e/c) as they playfully wink at him with a playful smile. Leon lets out a small laugh as he shakes his head. It’s nice to note that their vibrancy remains in full swing even after all this time.

“Ah, what a sight to see. It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you all together in one place.” Magnolia’s reminiscent words pull the quad’s attention. “You were all so young and now have grown into fine adults.” With a hum, the elder looks to her granddaughter.

             “It’d be foolish to think you’d want to be in the lab upon (Y/n)’s return, no?” Of course, the ginger shakes her head at this. Magnolia chuckles. The group separates from their hug.

             “In that case, before you get settled make it known that the office will be vacant for the time being.” Turning her attention to Leon she quickly notices that he was already on his own phone telling Rotom to notify the Battle Tower staff that he’d be out for the day. While they were doing that, (Y/n) busied herself with giving Charizard friendly scratches behind the horns. The fire-flying type grunts before bumping his snout on (Y/n)’s nose; an action that he’d adopted starting when he was a Charmeleon. (Y/n) lets out a startled laugh, they forgot about this behavior, but it was a sign of recognition, nonetheless.

             “Been watching over everyone just fine?” Charizard gives a proud nod in affirmation. 

“Good.”

***********

There's so much more that I wanted to add to this part, but I ultimately decided to cut it and move it over to chapter two. It would have gotten too long otherwise.

Also, just a word of note: If at any point do I use 'he' or 'she' in reference to (Y/n), please notify me so I may correct it as soon as I can. I want to keep this fic gender-neutral.

[paulinedorchester]

Hodgson, Vere. Few Eggs and No Oranges: A Diary Showing How Unimportant People in London and Birmingham Lived Through the War Years 1940-1945, Written in the Notting Hill Area of London. London: Dennis Dobson, 1976. Reprint (as Few Eggs and No Oranges: The Diaries of Vere Hodgson 1940-45), with a new preface by Jenny Hartley, London: Persephone Books, 1999.

Winifred Vere Hodgson (1901-1979) was born in Edgbaston, Birmingham, into what seem to have been shabby-genteel circumstances. On the one hand, after her father’s death in 1907 her mother was obliged to run the family home as a boarding house in order to make ends meet; on the other, she was educated at King Edward VI High School for Girls before reading history at the University of Birmingham. She was a niece of Thomas Vere Hodgson, the marine biologist on the H.M.S. Discovery during its voyage of 1904-6.

After graduating, she taught for several years at – wait for it – L’Istituto Statale della Ss. Annunziata, Florence, Italy, where – wait for it again – Edda Mussolini was among her pupils, and then for several more years at schools in (apparently – I’m a bit confused about this) Folkestone and Wimbledon. Deciding on a complete change, in 1935 she answered a “positions available” advertisement placed by a philanthropic body. Thus began her career as a social welfare worker, which seems to have been deemed important enough to have kept her from conscription during the war.

The organization for which Hodgson worked, the Greater World Christian Spiritualist Association, was located at 3 Lansdowne Road – still standing, this building was referred to at that time as The Sanctuary – and served primarily the Notting Hill and Holland Park areas, both of which seem to have been pretty down-at-heel at the time. They operated a night shelter for homeless women and gave grants of money and needed goods to the poor. (The Greater World, as its staff called it, doesn’t seem to me to fit the definition of a cult, so I’ll refrain from making any value judgements; you can read more about it here and here. It is still active.)

Hodgson’s job involved a good deal of secretarial and clerical work, but she also worked directly with the association’s beneficiaries as well as making nice with its benefactors. She often spent nights at The Sanctuary, either to be present for the women sheltering there or, once the war began, to take her turn as a fire-watcher. Although in her diary she always expresses gratitude for any free time she had, the job clearly brought her a great deal of satisfaction:

Went to see one of my poor old souls today. She has been getting a bit of chair-mending to do, and was better. She dreads the winter – as last year she was compelled to beg in the streets; but now we shall help her. The dread of complete destitution is terrible.

Like Clara Milburn, another wartime diarist whose output was published in the 1970s, Hodgson wasn’t writing primarily for her own benefit. Mrs. Milburn kept her diary with an eye to creating a record of the home front for her son, Alan, an officer in the British Expeditionary Force who was taken prisoner in Belgium in 1940. Miss Hodgson initially wrote for a cousin, Lucy Hodgson, who when the war began was in England on sabbatical from her job as an education officer in what was then known – to some people, at least – as Northern Rhodesia, and returned there in the Spring of 1940 “with grave misgivings,” according to Vere Hodgson’s introduction to the book.

Hodgson began sending installments of the diary to Lucy, who returned them to her and also sent parcels of cheese, tea, and other rationed foods. At some point Vere began mailing the pages to a round-robin of friends and relations, the last of whom would then send them on to Africa. (Amazingly, only one installment went missing.) Another thing that Hodgson’s diary has in common with Milburn’s is that she didn’t actually use printed diaries, allowing her to write very long entries at times.

The diary first came to public attention when Hodgson answered another advertisement, this one from the journalist Leonard Mosely, who was looking for first-hand accounts of life in wartime London as source material for his 1971 book Backs to the Wall (which is clearly something that I need to read). He quoted her entries for September 3rd, 1939, and May 7th, 1940. This resulted in a request from the publisher Dennis Dobson that Hodgson prepare an edition of her wartime diary as a whole. According to a publisher’s note in the Persephone reprint, “This she did, cutting by about three-quarters and editing substantially.” Since the reprint runs to 590 pages, one has to wonder what the original was like!

Few Eggs and No Oranges begins on June 25th, 1940, with the announcement that “Last night at about 1 a.m. we had the first raid of the war on London.” Air raids were at the very center of Hodgson’s war. She details, blow by blow, each and every raid and alert that she experienced. Indeed, she offers so much granular information on raids – where bombs fell, how many people were killed, etc. – and other topics that British newspapers weren’t permitted to discuss in any detail that it’s a wonder that the diary was never censored on its way out of the country. (At one point she reports that the censor returned to her a letter that she’d sent to a friend in Canada, so clearly this was something that really did happen! At the same time, she records many major events of the war all over the globe, seeming to assume that Lucy won’t have heard or read about them and leaving me wondering whether Northern Rhodesia can really have been that isolated by 1939.) Her preoccupation may have had something to do with the fact that she always found herself living on a building’s topmost floor: when the war began she was renting a room in a boarding house at 56 Ladbroke Road; in October, 1941 to her great delight, she moved to a “flatlet” across the street at 79 Ladbroke Road, the process of furnishing which she recounts with relish. Among other advantages, this allowed her to shelter friends who needed it: one of her friends was bombed out three times over the course of the war. To be sure, Hodgson did develop a good deal of sang-froid: “Very blitzy indeed last night,” she remarks off-handedly on January 10th, 1941.

When bombs weren’t falling, Hodgson simply recorded everyday life, often hilariously:

Spoke my mind to the cat. It is disgraceful that all the Cats have joined some sort of Pacifist Organization. To keep a cat in these awful days of food scarcity, and then have to catch the mice yourself, is a bit thick. I explained this to our animal.

As you might guess from the book’s title, food was another of Hodgson’s central preoccupations. There seem to be two conflicting narratives about food rationing in the U.K. during and after World War II. One is that pre-war Britons were overfed on a fatty, starchy diet, and that the nation’s overall health improved as a result of rationing. The other is that rationing was not only damaging to the nation’s morale, but led to widespread borderline malnutrition. Hodgson was inclined to the latter view. She repeatedly details all of the edibles she’s having to do without (fresh fruit was a major lack), either because they’re simply unavailable or, in the case of unrationed goods, because their prices have skyrocketed. On the other hand, she takes great joy in her own and other people’s ability to make whatever food could be had go further. (She writes about her Auntie Nell’s jam-making activities with obvious pride.) And whenever she had a windfall she was happy to share it.

And about those windfalls: Hodgson gleefully records each of the “gifts” of extra food she received from retailers – which included oranges that only children were supposed to get – and items bought from roadside vendors on trips out of London. It’s really quite shocking how common fiddling the system seems to have been, and how unrepentant people were about doing it:

Went for my bacon ration and while he was cutting it had a word with the man about the Cubic Inch of Cheese. He got rid of the other customers and then whispered, ‘Wait a mo’.’ I found half a pound of cheese being thrust into my bag with great secrecy and speed!

Then going to the Dairy for my butter ration I was given four eggs and a quarter of cheese!

Despite the housing and food problems she and her friends and neighbors had, Hodgson seems to have enjoyed a lively social life throughout the war, with neighbors, co-workers, former pupils, visiting relatives, and complete strangers she encountered over lunch at the Mercury Café. She saw plays at the Mercury Theatre and wrote about them as well as the films she saw. (She seems to have had no objection to American adaptations of British literature – How Green Was My Valley was a favorite – but did complain that American films were too fast-paced for her liking.)

Hodgson’s answer to the iconic question “Is Your Journey Really Necessary?” was nearly always an emphatic “Yes!” Throughout the war she made frequent trips to Birmingham to see her mother and sister (there, too, she recounted air raids and the damage they caused); to Brede, Sussex, where two more aunts lived; and occasionally to other places in search of fresh air, quiet, and a change of pace. Although she makes note of the bad travelling conditions that she often endured, she almost always persevered.

Her politics are difficult to pin down. She idolized Winston Churchill (“The bravest of us all!”), even though his policies led to the internment of a close friend, and on weekdays she read The Daily Telegraph. But on Sundays she read The Observer and The People, and once Germany invaded the Soviet Union she became a great fan of the Russians. Hodgson was also enthusiastic about Americans: she expresses equal admiration for Roosevelt and his 1940 opponent, Wendell Wilkie, and remarked that “Really the Americans seem to give the best Postscripts,” after hearing one from Dorothy Thompson in August 1941. (She seems never to have actually met any Americans, however.)

On religion, too, she is very vague. She greatly admired the altruism and sheer energy of Winifred Moyes, the founder of the Greater World Christian Spiritualist Association, and at least in the published version of her diary she never criticizes Moyes’s Spiritualist “meetings,” but neither does she ever seem to have attended one. She appears to have been only an occasional church-goer, more often listening to broadcast services. However, she did regularly read her horoscope, as well as Edward Lyndoe’s predictions in The People, and was irritated by a Mass-Observation report that disapproved of the finding that 40% of the British public had some degree of interest in astrology.  

A couple of aspects of Few Eggs and No Oranges did make me uncomfortable. One is Hodgson’s enthusiasm for what could be called “air-raid tourism”: as soon as possible after learning where bombs had fallen during a recent raid she went to have a look at the damage, telling her readers about what she saw. This seems to have been a popular pastime, as she rarely seems to have been alone in her rubbernecking. People probably wanted to be reassured that others were worse off than they were, which is understandable but doesn’t make the behavior any less creepy.

And then there are the bits that brought me right up against the limits of my Anglophilia. On several occasions Hodgson mentions off-handedly, and for no apparent reason, that someone she encounters is Jewish: “Met Ivy [Croucher, an actress and elocution teacher; she’s the one who was made homeless three times] coming back from her lunch at the Grosvenor with her Jewish pupil.” Later, during a visit to Birmingham, she notes that she “got four [oranges] from a Jewish trader by spinning him a yarn.”

What exactly is the point? Did she enjoy inducing the produce vendor into actions that could easily have landed him in court? How did she even know that either of these people were Jewish? The distinctive dress of those now known in the U.K. as the strictly Orthodox would have been a rare sight at the time, especially away from London; and if Crompton’s pupil was eating at the Grosvenor Hotel, as is implied, then he or she can hardly have been Orthodox at all. And then there’s this:

Went to see The [Great] Dictator today. How I enjoyed it! Superb satire! For all its tomfoolery written with a profundity of serious purpose. The speeches of Hynkel, half-German, half-English, are there. People who understood German were even more convulsed than I was. ... The palace scenes, where Hynkel did not waste a moment, were all in the spirit of German thoroughness. But Mussolini in real life does not smile so much. All done by an East End Jew! [emphasis added]

One hardly knows what to say — other than “Wrong on both counts, sweetheart.”

When Persephone republishes a book, they don’t simply reprint it from the original, but set it into type anew. (Their reprint of Mollie Panter-Downes’s London War Notes 1939-1945 features a row of tiny U.S. flags at the top of each even-numbered page and a corresponding row of British flags on each odd-numbered one.) The original Few Eggs apparently included illustrations that aren’t in the reprint. All we get is a hand-drawn map of Notting Hill and Holland Park; while beautiful to look at, it’s reproduced here on such a small scale as to make it essentially useless. I’m slightly sorry that I didn’t try to find a used copy of the original publication.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed reading Few Eggs and No Oranges, and recommend it to anyone who’s looking for a (very long) first-hand account of the British home front.

[twinkle-320]

Mommy-to-be

Pairing:  Drake x MC (Riley Nevin Walker)

A/N:  I wrote this for something fun and lighthearted.  I am currently working on a TRR AU that has me stuck and feeling sad so I needed some fluff in my life.  Baby showers are perfect for fluff.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2513

Tag list: @kingliam2019​ @batgirlassociationofgothamcity​ (If you only wanted to be tagged for mood boards, let me know.)

Rain pelted against the glass ceiling of the solarium in Valtoria, where Riley sat surrounded by her friends trying to keep up with their chatter.

“It should definitely be an apple theme,” Hana said in her usual calm, gentle tone.

“Oh please,” Olivia scoffed. “Practically every woman in Cordonia has a ridiculous apple themed baby shower. At least try to be original.”

“Well, do you have any ideas?”

“I think...”

“Don’t say knives,” Savannah interjected.

“Don’t be such a simpleton. I was going to say axes...you could make that work with apples if you must.”

“How about we ask Riley what she wants...it’s her shower,” Savannah suggested.

All eyes turned to Riley, who was staring out at the rain, lost in thought. Olivia snapped her fingers practically right in Riley’s face. “Riley...earth to Riley...are you still with us or did the baby get the last of your brain?”

“Hmm...what? I’m sorry, what were you asking?”

“Themes,” Hana said. “For your shower.”

“Yes, because that’s what good ‘friends’ do, we ask you to plan your own shower,” Olivia quipped.

“Oh, umm...well, I love Disney,” Riley said.

Olivia looked at her disgusted. “Disney? That god awful amusement park with the oversized rat and screaming demon children? Sure, that would definitely be better than axes.”

Savannah rolled her eyes at Olivia. “Disney could be cute and if Riley likes it, that’s what important.”

“Guys, I’ll be fine with any theme you want, really. My only request is that we have games.”

“You Americans and your games,” Olivia scoffed.

“Games and Disney. Don’t worry, Riley...we’ve got this. It will be perfect,” Hana assured her.

                                             —————————

As Riley inched closer and closer to her October due date, the day of her shower finally arrived. Everything had been planned with her knowledge so she could be prepared. It wouldn’t due to have a Duchess show up to her own shower in leggings and a hoodie. Select members of the press would be in attendance and a photo shoot was planned. Hana had helped Riley select an elegant, ivory lace maxi dress that perfectly hugged her bump. Her hair cascaded down her back in elegant waves and she wore rose gold flip flops to accommodate her swollen feet.

When Riley stepped into the gardens behind the estate, she was in awe. Soft pastels of pink, blue, green, and yellow accented the clean white color pallet. There was a giant balloon arch featuring all the colors set up over the dessert table. Hana had worked with a local baker on not one, but two perfect cakes. One was a two-tier cake in soft pinks and blues with Mickey and Minnie accents. The other was a nod to Riley’s favorite princess; a small replica of Cinderella’s coach also done in pink and blue. Elements of Disney were subtle and tasteful including Mickey silhouettes made of branches, vines, and flowers. Each table was named after a Disney character and featured lush centerpieces with hidden Mickey’s, lanterns with glittery rose gold Mickey heads hand-painted on the glass, and a Disney story book for those at the table to sign as a guest book. With over twenty tables, all the books would be the perfect start to a baby library. Tears sprang to her eyes as she took in the beautiful work her friends had done. All that was needed now was for the guests to arrive.

                                              —————————

Drake spent the morning working in the nursery away from the hustle and bustle of party set-up. Once her classes had wrapped for the semester, Riley finally settled on decor and gave Drake a to do list a mile long. Rustic woodland animals was the chosen theme. Riley thought it would be easy to add to after the baby arrived; floral elements if it was a girl or more woodsy elements if it was a boy. The walls were a soft ecru with an accent wall done in reclaimed barn wood. When Drake finished assembling the simple white crib Riley had chosen, he moved it into position against the wood wall and admired his efforts. In his pocket, his phone chimed, alerting him it was time to get ready for the party.

Once he was showered and changed, he headed to the gardens and found Riley standing over the dessert table. Sneaking up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her and her growing belly. “Lay off the cookies, Nevin. Those are for the guests.”

Riley jumped and giggled. “Cookies weren’t my idea, Drake...Bean wants one.”

“Just like Bean wanted ice cream and s’mores last night?”

Riley turned in his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. “This little one has a sweet tooth, what can I say.”

“Like mama, like baby,” Drake laughed. “So, this looks pretty awesome out here,” he said, turning to take in the set-up.

“Right?!?” Riley exclaimed. “It’s fucking amazing.” 

“Duchess Riley...language!”

Riley turned in the direction of the voice scolding her and wasn’t surprised to see Bertrand and Savannah approaching with their arms full of gifts.

“Holy shit guys, did you buy out the store?”

“You just can’t stop yourself, can you?” Bertrand asked.

Riley shrugged. “Nope. And no one’s here yet to hear me so stop fretting, Bertrand. Drake, don’t just stand there...help your sister,” she said, nudging him forward. Once the gifts were safely placed on the gift table, the group stood together chatting as other guests slowly started arriving.

“You and Hana did an amazing job,” Riley said to a beaming Savannah.

“I thought Liv helped too?” Drake asked. 

“She did...a little,” Savannah replied.

Riley laughed. “Should I be looking for hidden daggers in addition to the hidden Mickey’s?”

“No, we managed to keep daggers out of the decor. She had proposed a sword wielding Mickey ice sculpture but thankfully the sculptor refused for trademark reasons. We ended up putting her in charge of the food.”

“Great,” Drake groaned. “Can’t wait to see what kind of fancy crap she planned.”

Bertrand groaned and shook his head, looking like his head was about to explode. Savannah wisely took his hand and led him away to their table.

Ana de Luca quickly took their place at the happy couple’s side and ushered them deeper in to the garden for a quick photo shoot and interview before the festivities began. Riley was able to approve the digital proofs on the spot and an elegant black and white of her cradling her belly was chosen for the Trend cover.

When they arrived back at the party, nearly all the guests had arrived and things were in full swing. Drake was pleasantly surprised to see the buffet spread of comfort foods. There was a carving station with whole roasted chickens and herb crusted filet, and sides of garlic mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and steamed vegetables. Olivia’s personal touch was obvious due to the chefs wielding larger than necessary ornate knives for carving.

Hana was the perfect hostess, keeping things orderly as each table took their turn through the buffet. As guests filled their plates, she announced the first game...a Disney match game matching Disney characters to their parents. There was a print out at each place setting and guests could complete it at their leisure to turn in by the end of the meal.

Riley had taken a plate with a little bit of everything and promptly ignored it while she turned to the game with hyper focus.

“Nevin...are you gonna eat?”

“Huh...oh, yeah, I will. I just wanna get this done first.”

“Are you even allowed to play the games at your own shower?”

 “Of course I am, silly!”

When the meal was over, Hana had everyones game sheet and tallied the answers. “And the winner is...Duchess Riley,” she announced to the crowd.

 Most in attendance cheered or applauded politely but Riley heard the groans among her friends at her table.

Guests took the opportunity to mingle while Hana got set-up for baby shower bingo. Mingling was the perfect opportunity for the ongoing game of “Don’t say baby”. Each guest was given three clothes pins when they arrived. If they said the word baby at any point in a conversation, someone could steal one of their pins. Whoever had the most pins at the end would win a prize.

When Hana called for everyone to take their seats, Riley returned to her table with at least twenty-five pins clipped to the ruffle of her dress. Savannah and Maxwell sat giggling while Olivia rolled her eyes. “Really, Riley...you can’t be serious? You’re competitive nature is occasionally admirable but this is bordering on ridiculous,” Olivia sneered.

“What?” Riley said sheepishly. “People can’t help saying baby to the pregnant lady, that’s not my fault!”

“I somehow doubt it was as simple as that.”

“Well, I may have practiced saying nothing but Bean or infant for the last week but still...I won these pins fair and square.”

After everyone had a chance to fill out their bingo boards with baby items, Hana began calling out items at random. It only took seven items before Riley was on her feet, holding her belly while she jumped up and down yelling ‘bingo’. The groans that had been contained to her friends earlier now rippled through the other guests. Olivia forcefully grabbed the bingo board as Hana made her way to the table.

“Riley...I um...I think maybe you should give someone else a chance to win the game prizes,” Hana whispered hesitantly.

“But...”

“Blossom, Hana’s right,” Max said gently.

“For once, I agree with these fools,” Olivia interjected, still clutching Riley’s game board.

Riley pouted as Drake put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “You and Bean get to leave with all the presents, let the guests have the prizes, Nevin.”

“Ok, fine,” she conceded.

Hana turned back to the crowd. “Duchess Riley has graciously forfeited her win so we’ll continue with this round.”

Two items later, Liam stood and called out Bingo.

“You’re welcome,” Riley whispered as Hana handed Liam one of the bottles of whiskey Drake had selected as ‘manly’ prizes.  Liam smiled at her affectionately and laughed.

Two rounds later, Kiara and Emmeline had each won a prize and Hana announced it was time for presents.

Riley sat on a throne decorated with vines and flowers with gifts piled all around her. She took care to read each card and announce the gift giver and show her appreciation. There was everything from the simple: blankets, layettes, and plush toys; to the extravagant: tiaras, crowns, scepters, and crystal rattles. It felt endless and overwhelming in the best way possible. Riley was sure she had opened something from everyone in attendance but there was still a large pile unopened.

“These are from your family,” Hana explained. “Since they’re visiting when the baby arrives, they couldn’t make it today but they sent these over.”

Riley resisted the urge to steal one of Hana’s pins as she smiled gratefully at her. Her heart swelled with each gift she opened; her family knew her so well. There was a baby book that matched her woodland theme that had pages already filled in for her side of the family tree, complete with photos and memories about her mom, whom Bean would only know through stories. Riley felt the tears pricking at her eyes and they finally broke free when she opened a blanket that her dad had custom made out of some of her mom’s clothes. He took care to chose the softest sweaters in colors that would compliment the nursery. It was the closest Bean would come to feeling the embrace of their grandmother and it took everything in Riley not to ugly cry.

After a minute to compose herself, she moved on to the next gift. It was from Drew. The card said that he wanted to get something just for her because he knew that Bean would be getting more than enough. When Riley opened the box she began to giggle through her tears; it was just the humor that she needed.

“What is it?” Drake asked.

“I’m not sure I should show it to everyone,” Riley laughed. “There doesn’t need to be a picture of this in Trend.” 

“Just show us then, Blossom.”

Riley’s friends moved behind her and she lifted out a t-shirt with the front facing away from the guests. It was red with short sleeves and in bold white print it read ‘I’m a drop the F-bomb kind of Mom’.

There was laughter among her friends as Liam said, “Well your brother certainly seems to know you well.”

“Is that really the kind of thing you should be advertising?” Hana gasped.

“I see no problem with it,” Olivia stated matter-of-factly.

“It’s definitely funny, but Nevin’s gonna be watching her language once Bean arrives.”

Riley dropped the shirt and turned to Drake with her mouth agape. “Do you know me at all?” she exclaimed.

“Come on, Nevin. You don’t want him or her copying you.”

“Bean will just have to learn what I did growing up...do as I say, not as I do; no copying Mommy.”

“I hope its that easy, Nevin.”

“It will be,” she assured him as she pulled him down for a kiss.

With the last of the presents opened, guests were invited to enjoy the dessert table and the party began to wind down. Gladys and a few members of the staff started taking the presents in to the nursery and Riley made a beeline for the cookies she had been eyeing.

As the sun started to get low in the sky, they said their goodbyes and made their way into the estate.

“Why don’t you go up and get comfortable...I’ll make us some popcorn and we’ll watch a movie,” Drake suggested.

“Sounds perfect.”

When Drake finally got upstairs, he found Riley standing in the doorway of the nursery, clutching the blanket from her dad to her chest. “You okay, Nevin?”

Riley nodded and wiped away a stray tear. “I just can’t wait to hold our baby, Drake, and...and I hope I’m a good mom.”

“You’re gonna be a great mom, Nevin. An amazing fucking mom.”

Riley turned to him with a big smile on her face. “Ssshhhh, language Daddy.”

“You’re a piece of work.”

“I am,” she shrugged. “But you love it.”

“Damn right, I do,” he said as he pulled her into a passionate kiss and guided her to their room.

Exhaustion took over and Riley was a sleep in minutes. Drake ate the popcorn and watched Riley’s chest gently rise and fall as he rubbed her belly. “Hurry up and get here Bean, we can’t wait to meet you.”

The once grumpy commoner felt the last of his walls break down when his loving words were rewarded with a kick. Everything he never knew he wanted was right there in his arms...a family of his own to love and protect; all because he walked into her bar.

[lia-jones]

Growing Stronger - Chapter Twenty One - Items One and Two

Victor didn’t take decisions lightly. He was a firm believer that no side was truly right or wrong, so all aspects should be considered to make an educated decision. For him, navigating life was a whole new flavor of risk assessment. Creating a mental spreadsheet, he would include in it any piece of information he deemed useful to the matter, rating it as an advantage or disadvantage and raking them from top to bottom, from most important to practically irrelevant.

He noticed, however, that when it came to make the spreadsheet for Andrea, he could find no disadvantages at all, which was in itself a disadvantage, since the feelings he had for her were clearly clouding his judgment. But he also learned that all the flaws were ranked as irrelevant. Always reluctant to get in touch with his feelings, Victor came across an undeniable truth: he was in love deep, and building a life with Andrea was the only option that he considered acceptable.

Victor was well aware that despite finding no disadvantages in their relationship (besides him being a lovestruck idiot), they still had things to work on. They had broken up before, so there were surely some edges that needed sharpening. He moved on to a to-do list. All the things that needed fixing before he proposed, so they could lead a loving and fulfilling life together. Victor was no fool, he knew very well nothing was ever perfect nor it would be, and he was expecting a few bumps in the road. But even if not possible, he wanted to be very close to perfection. He never accepted anything less than excellence in his work, his personal life wouldn’t be an exception.

The first item in that to-do list was to make sure Andrea felt welcome in his life. Although he himself had no doubt about his feelings for Andrea, she had, more than once, showed insecurity about their relationship. Victor knew he could attribute some of that insecurity to her dating a violent piece of scum, but he was not oblivious about his flaws either. Communication, when it came to feelings, at least, was hard for Victor, and he more often than not would steer away from heartfelt conversations. Andrea, being an extrovert, was direct and open about how she felt, and sometimes mistook his silence for indifference. Victor had to show her, without the shadow of a doubt, how he felt.

The second item was to make sure Andrea felt comfortable sharing a life with him. Although Andrea never reacted badly to his lifestyle, he also knew she didn’t quite relate to it either, and occasionally even disapproved of it. Apart from the infrequent trip overseas, she was still reticent to accept any gifts from him. Victor understood that, although her parents clearly had money, she was raised in a very humble manner, relying more on resourcefulness and imagination than tutors or servants, and couldn’t stand living in any other way. She was used to doing her own laundry and cleaning up after herself, to the point that she felt guilty by letting Victor’s housekeeper do all the chores. Victor had to threaten the fire the housekeeper, stating that since Andrea was doing all the work, he didn’t need the help anymore, for her to actually relax a little and let someone else do some of the work around the house.

Another thing that annoyed Victor immensely was that Andrea always said “your apartment” or “your place”, instead of just “home”. It was true that Victor never actually asked her to move in after their break up, mostly because he feared another fight, but they were practically living together since he got home from the hospital. It shocked Victor that she would clean his house top to bottom, do his laundry, but still wasn’t able to feel like she lived there. She took all the obligations, but none of the perks. Victor feared that he would start another argument, but he had to address the matter.

The third item on the list tied in closely to the first one, but was separate enough to be an item on its own. Victor had never shared the events of his past with Andrea, mostly because they were heavy with emotion, and, as indicated before, Victor did not enjoy talking about feelings. And even though Victor would never forfeit anything he set his mind to, even he had to admit this was a very difficult one to solve. Andrea knew nothing about Evols and superpowers, how was he supposed to explain the two almost three years he had spent in captivity. And even if he didn’t mention Evols, how would he talk about his torture? Victor didn’t even have a clue how to start such a loaded topic.

He understood, however, the importance of full disclosure. Even with the information he had about Andrea’s abuse right from the beginning, his heart only rested when he knew from her lips exactly what she went through. He wouldn’t stand to know Andrea held such a secret like he did. And still, proving she was a remarkable person, even after learning from Mia he had been through such a trauma, she gave him space to deal with things himself, disregarding her fear and ego just to make him comfortable. It was obvious to Victor that Andrea had gracefully earned the right to know. And he would tell her. The moment he knew how.

He would figure it out, sooner or later. That Saturday was about items one and two.

After visiting the horses and showing off his prized and beloved stallion, Onyx, Victor led Andrea to a secluded area in the ranch, where they could have lunch under the shade of a magnificent willow tree, the blue lake as their view, the chirping of birds and the ripple of water their soundtrack.

They unfolded the blanket over the grass and sat there, Victor taking from the basket an array of plastic boxes, two glasses, and a bottle of wine. Inside the boxes, he found every single item he carefully asked Mina to prepare, Andrea’s favorite foods: grapes, cherries, melon with prosciutto, egg salad and BLT sandwiches and mango arugula salad seasoned with balsamic vinegar. There was an extra box that made Victor smile widely: Mina had also included a box full of her delicious taffy. It would be amazing to share that iconic piece of his childhood with his beloved one. Mina had the best ideas.

Feeling completely concealed from the world, Victor and Andrea ate and engaged in playful banter, feeding, touching, and kissing each other, sharing the intimacy they had built all over time. Andrea was happy and relaxed, throwing witty remarks at him and laughing hard every time he retaliated, either with a tickle on her bare feet, or by taking her in his arms to enjoy a stolen kiss.

Blissfully untroubled, she fell asleep in his arms. Victor felt like the strongest happiest man in the world. He was able to take care of his woman, taking her away from all the troubles that worried her daily, returning the care she had given him while he was recuperating. He caressed her curls lovingly, enjoying the soft sounds she made as she slept, his heart filled with the euphoria of a job well done. He had made her happy. He was worthy of her bright warming love. Victor let his eyes close, basking in the feeling, and without noticing, fell asleep too.

Victor was startled by the vibration of his phone in his pocket, cursing under his breath when he noticed the sudden motion had made Andrea stir too. It was his aunt Terry telling them to come back for an early dinner. He planted a soft kiss on Andrea’s forehead, giving her time to fully awake. After gathering all of their belongings, they walked towards Terry’s mansion, the sunset already starting to make an appearance.

The first person he saw when they entered the large living room was the one he least expected to see. Sitting on his usual chair, nursing a whiskey, was his father. Victor’s mood shifted immediately from happiness to anger, his hand holding Andrea’s a little bit harder than he intended to. She touched his upper arm gently, a silent plead for him to remain calm.

“What are you doing here?” He couldn’t avoid the sour tone.

“This is my sister’s house. Since when do I need an excuse to come here?” It was clear that his father did not appreciate his question, although he answered in a softer tone.

Victor said nothing and moved to the kitchen, his father stopping him dead on his tracks with an unexpected question.

“How are you, Andrea?” There was no irony in his father’s question. He held Andrea’s hand tighter. He didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t like it.

“I’m fine, thank you.” She answered politely. “How are you, Sir?”

“Please, it’s Gregory. Terry tells me that you’ll be joining us for dinner.” Victor’s father got up from his chair, shaking Andrea’s hand.

“Come, we need to take this basket to Mina.” Victor pulled Andrea towards the kitchen, uncomfortable with his father’s demeanor. However, Gregory never really let go of Andrea’s hand, as he spoke again.

“I owe you an apology.” He looked her in the eyes with a regretful expression. “I know I wasn’t exactly a gentleman last time we spoke. Truth is, I am happy that Victor has such loyal… friends in his life.”

“I apologize too. I was rude, and out of line.” Andrea shook his hand one more time.

Victor watched the whole scene, trying to hide his surprise and his terror. Something was off. He needed to figure out what. Without another word, he led Andrea to the kitchen.

“Mina, I have your basket.” He called out in the kitchen, which was seemingly empty.

“Did you two enjoy your picnic?” Mina spoke as she came in from the garden. “Andrea, did you have fun?”

“I did, Mina, thank you. The taffy was delicious.” Andrea smiled.

“Your father is here. Did you see him?” Mina asked him with worried eyes.

“Andrea, do you want to see the herb garden? I want to make something similar, but I want your opinion.” Victor turned to Andrea, his poker face in place, hiding the rage he was feeling. Andrea was no fool though.

“You know I disapprove of most of his actions, but he’s trying. Give him a chance.” Andrea looked at him with earnest eyes, and the poker face instantly dissolved.

“You don’t know him like I do.” He retorted.

“Come, Andrea, let me show you our herbs. We have new kinds this year.” Mina offered, taking Andrea by the hand.

Alone, Victor walked back to the living room to meet his father.

“What do you want?” Victor asked bluntly, not wanting to waste any time.

“To make amends. I’m trying to make up for my mistakes.” Gregory tried to appease Victor.

“What caused the sudden and drastic change of heart?” Victor didn’t believe a single word his father said.

“I could lie and say I had an epiphany, but none of that happened. Truthfully, it was Andrea. She told me some things at the hospital that I refused but needed to hear.” Gregory hung his head, apparently ashamed.

“Not a filthy immigrant anymore? Now, in your eyes, she’s wise?” Victor could feel the anger rising, but clenched his fists to keep it down. Andrea told him about her encounter with his father. How he forcefully dragged her out of the room. How he wanted to throw her out like a dog. “Now, out of blue, you like her?”

“Regardless of the past, you are still my son. There will be a time in your life when you will have a family of your own, with a wife and kids. I want to be able to witness it. I’m willing to let go of my pride and admit to my mistakes to see it happen. You may not believe it, but I am proud of you.”

The bad blood was rising fast, Victor could feel it. After years of ignoring him, pushing him away to some faraway school, and to the help, or to his sister, like he was some sort of pesky nuisance, he was suddenly useful because his father was getting old? The thought brought Victor a bad taste to his mouth. He walked towards the kitchen, calling Andrea.

“Get your things. We’re leaving.” He told her, anxious to get away from there as soon as possible.

“Victor…” His father pleaded.

“No!” Victor could no longer contain his rage, his voice like a thunder, echoing all over the house. “All you did was keep me out of your life! Like I was a burden! Like I was somehow responsible for what happened to me! I did not ask for it!”

Gregory tried to talk, but Victor would not let him. For the first time in his life, Victor would face his father, instead of being the recipient of his venom.

“You blamed me! I was a child, I was your child, and still you blamed me! Like I could somehow give her cancer! She was the one I loved the most, and you blamed me! What kind of parent does that to a child?” Victor felt his eyes prickle as he roared. He could sense people talking to him, a soft hand on his chest, but his vision was laser-focused on his father, all he could hear was his bitter words, from a long time ago.

“Go to your room. Try not to upset your mother.”

“You didn’t even let me say goodbye! She was dying and you hid it from me! All I had left of her was a vase with ashes, that you threw into the Seine! You took everything from me, like I didn’t deserve it! Like I was to blame!” Victor heard his voice betraying him, breaking with anguish.

“Victor!” He heard his aunt’s cry, making him suddenly mind his surroundings. His father staring at him, painful tears in his eyes. Andrea by his side, her hand on his chest, trying to contain him. Terry and Mina, by the kitchen door, crying.

Victor felt more than rage. He felt the raw pain of his childhood all over again. And he felt ashamed.

“Let’s go.” He ordered Andrea, who promptly grabbed her purse. “We are done here. Thanks for everything, Aunt Terry.”

He didn’t complain when Andrea offered to drive, claiming he was too worked up to do it. He felt exhausted. He had no fight left in him.

Victor spent the whole ride in silence, a worried Andrea glancing at him every 5 seconds, trying to make him talk. He just wanted to be left alone, to numb the feelings that had accidentally surfaced, to calm the hurricane in his chest.

The good thing was, she was there: taking his hand from time to time, her presence a soothing agent. And although she was desperate to help him, to pull him from his silence, she already did more than she could imagine.

[remedialpotions]

Over Biscuits

Happy birthday to one of my very favorite people, the amazing @aloemilk ! I feel so lucky to count you as a friend ❤️ I hope you enjoy this fluffy little fic!

Word Count: 2,075

Rating: K+

This can also be found on FFN (author: bowtruckles) and AO3 (author: remedialpotions)

***

Pausing in the doorway, Ron furrowed his brows at the scene developing before him. Hermione stood at the stove, her bushy hair just barely contained in a thick knot at the back of her head, gaze fixed intently on a saucepan. Not unsurprisingly - she was skilled at a great many things, but this really wasn’t one of them - her face betrayed more stupefaction than she’d ever displayed in Potions class. Given that this was his wheelhouse, he knew he should help her, but when she started nibbling on her lip, a flush rising in her cheeks from the heat emanating off the range, he thought there also wasn’t much harm in allowing himself to watch her.

Just for a minute, anyway. He didn’t see as much of her lately as he would have preferred, and it gave him a small glow of warmth, deep in the pit of his stomach, to see her standing in the kitchen of the Burrow, scowling at a recipe. Too many times over the past four months, he had thought the Christmas hols might never actually be upon them and that he would spend the whole of his life missing her, but she was home. For two glorious weeks, he had her all to himself, and he wasn’t going to let any of it slip away.

He always loved watching her when she didn’t know he was looking. Hermione was rarely vulnerable, but when it was just the two of them together, or he caught her in a moment when she thought she was alone, all of her pretenses fell away. She stopped being Hermione Granger, Head Girl and war hero and ‘brightest witch of her age’, and simply became the woman that he loved - the one standing in his parents’ kitchen with streaks of cinnamon across her cheeks.

“After melting butter on low heat,” Hermione was muttering to herself, eyes fixed on the stained and crumpled parchment before her, “stir in brown sugar, molasses, salt, and spices.”

She tugged a sack of brown sugar toward her, picked up a measuring cup, and dutifully dug it in.

“There are spells for that, y’know,” said Ron, opting to make his presence known and striding across the faded tile floor toward her. He plunked a tub of molasses down on the work surface and grinned at her.

“Yes, well.” Hermione used the back of her wrist to push a rogue lock of hair out of her eyes. “It never hurts to do things the Muggle way, does it?”

“No, s’pose not.” Stepping behind her, Ron set his hands on her hips, his chin coming to rest on the fuzzy wool covering her shoulder. As she leaned back against him, one of her hands falling onto his, he peered into the saucepan. “Er - I should probably tell you-“

She craned her neck to meet his eyes. “Oh no, what?”

“The butter,” said Ron, wincing. “It’s a bit - er -overmelted.”

With a sorrowful glance down at the oily, golden-brown liquid in the pan, Hermione let out a sigh of resignation.

“You can just say that I burned it, Ron.”

Suppressing a laugh, he pressed a firm kiss to her temple and tightened his arms around her waist. So many times over the past four months he had wanted to hold her, just to feel the warmth of her in his arms, and he wasn’t about to take it for granted now. He only had a second to relish it, however, before she wriggled out of his embrace to retrieve her wand from the kitchen table. In the next instant, the burned butter had vanished from the pan, replaced by a fresh new block from the cooling cupboard. Instantly it began to sizzle and hiss against the scorching cast iron.

“Oh, that’s too hot, see?” Ron reached around Hermione’s hip to dial down the flame. “It isn’t supposed to bubble like that.”

With her lips pursed tightly together, she glared at the butter as though it had committed a personal slight against her. She never did cope well with being less than the best at anything, even something as trivial as baking gingerbread biscuits.

“Just pretend that it’s Potions class,” he told her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and using his free hand to gently stir the butter with a wooden spoon. “You’re brilliant in Potions.”

“But you hate Potions - and yet you like doing this-“

“Yeah, well, this is better, it results in food,” he grinned. “And anyway, Potions was different, there’s no way to like a class when you've got either Snape breathing down my neck, or Slughorn, who poisoned me and still couldn’t remember my name-“

“Technically it was Malfoy who poisoned you, not Slughorn-“

“Still,” argued Ron, that little spark inside of him igniting like it always did when they bickered back and forth, “you’d think if someone nearly drops dead in your office, you’d-“

“Oh, stop,” Hermione whined. The genuine anguish on her face was like a blade through his chest. “Let’s not talk about that anymore.”

“Sorry.” He dropped a chaste kiss on her lips by way of apology. “Look, it’s really not a big deal,” he continued, deciding to pick up where she left off with the brown sugar. “We’re only responsible for the entire pudding portion of Christmas Eve dinner, so no pressure - oi!”

For she had pinched him on the arm.

“That isn’t funny,” she moaned. Eyes closed, she leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “What if I end up ruining it-“

“You won’t.”

“But-“

“You won’t,” he repeated gently. “We - we’ve had some pretty shit Christmases in our day, my family, but none of them have been completely ruined.” He quickly shoved away the thought that, in his eighteen years of life, no Christmas on record had ever followed events like that of the spring, and instead offered Hermione a smile. “It’d take a lot more than some botched gingerbread biscuits, I promise.”

She gave an relenting nod. “Fine.”

Her fingers brushed his as she took the wooden spoon from him, stirring as he poured the brown sugar into the melting butter. There was still a streak of cinnamon across her cheekbone, and he wiped it softly away with the pad of his thumb.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Ron had actually offered, in conversation with his father one Sunday evening, to make all of the Christmas puddings. It was the one part of the meal he felt he could successfully prepare, and while he wasn’t naive enough to think that it would relieve the weight that had permanently settled onto his mum’s shoulders since the second of May, he felt it was the least he could do. He wasn’t naive, but he also wasn’t blind. He saw the weariness in her every time he and Harry visited for Sunday dinner, and as the pang of guilt shot through him, he would always promise himself he would do more, be there more. The only problem was that the Ministry of Magic seemed to think he had no life outside their intensive Auror Training program - and then George had asked him for help getting the shop back in order, and he couldn’t say no to that - and he’d also been Apparating to Hogsmeade every chance he got-

Anyway, baking a few batches of biscuits and a treacle tart felt like the very least he could do.

A companionable silence fell between them as they continued to prepare the dough, punctuated only by the occasional shared kiss or murmured request for an ingredient. And Ron let himself pretend, just for a second, that perhaps this wasn’t his parents’ kitchen, but their own, and maybe they weren’t baking for his family, but for their own children - and it was madness to think about, at eighteen, things like marriage and babies, but he couldn’t stop himself. He looked at Hermione, and he saw the whole world before him.

“So now,” he said, giving the sticky dough one last stir, his biceps sore from the effort, “this has to cool for about an hour, then we bake it.”

“So how do we spend our free hour?” asked Hermione, a sort of mischievous twinkle in her eye that made Ron deeply remorseful that his parents were in the next room. Kissing was one thing, but he definitely couldn’t sneak her up to his room undetected.

“I - well - as great an idea as that is, I - I got you something,” he confessed.

He had never seen her look so indignant. “You - but we promised-“

“I know, but it really isn’t a gift - just stay here for a second, yeah?”

Before she could respond, he kissed her hastily on the forehead and darted out of the kitchen.

It had been a strategic move to stow this little token of affection in his former bedroom at the Burrow, knowing that he and Hermione would be spending a good portion of her Christmas hols there. And while he understood why they had agreed not to exchange gifts, given that neither of them had any income to speak of, he couldn’t resist wanting to show her what she meant to him. He hoped this little item, silly and useless as it might have been, would maybe at least come close to doing that.

Her eyes were still shooting daggers at him when he returned to the kitchen.

“If it helps, you don’t have to think of it as a Christmas gift,” he said as he pressed the box into her hands. “It’s really just because I love you, anyway.”

At his words, her expression softened, and she leaned back against the work surface as she prised open the box; Ron’s stomach shook with nerves.

Gingerly, as though scared to harm it, Hermione pulled the little gold key from its bed of cotton with two fingers and looked expectantly up at Ron.

“It’s to Grimmauld Place,” he explained, though this did nothing to assuage the polite bewilderment on her face. “And I know what you’re thinking, that you don’t need a key to get into Grimmauld Place, but it’s - y’know, so that you know that it’s as much yours as it is mine or Harry’s.”

Her lips were on his before he could keep talking. Though he had more to say, he couldn’t help leaning into it, forgetting everything but her and the taste of sugar on her lips.

“But also,” he said around one last kiss, “it’s really mostly symbolic so it could also be for - for anywhere, really, that you and I might live together. Y’know, in the future.”

As Ron watched, a series of emotions crossed over her face in rapid succession as she pieced his words together: confusion, surprise, happiness.

“So you want to live together,” she stated as a smile split her face.

“I definitely don’t want to live apart,” he assured her. “Not any longer than we have to, anyway. This is for later, by the way,” he felt compelled to clarify. “For once you’re done at Hogwarts and you’ve set the record for most NEWTs achieved by a single student or something-“

“Stop-“

“I just mean,” he said, sobering a bit, “that it’s there for you whenever you’re ready - if that’s what you want-“

“Of course it’s what I want-“

“I’ve completely bungled this up, haven’t I?” said Ron, now a bit sheepish. “It was supposed to be romantic-“

“And it was - oh, come here-“

And she grasped him by the ears and kissed him soundly on the lips. When she pulled back, her fingers remained plunged in his hair.

“You still don’t really get it, do you?” Her nails tickled down the nape of his neck. “I love you-“

“I know you do-“

“And I want all the same things that you want.”

He knew that. Of course he knew that. Two people couldn’t share all that they had over the years without knowing, but she had never stated it quite so plainly before. It was something quite different to hear it aloud, to see their future etched more clearly before him.

“All right,” he said, reaching up to take her wrists in his hands. “All right, you decide, then. Wherever you want to live, whenever you want to live there - you just tell me and I’ll be there.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“And in the meantime,” Ron said, giving her forearms a tender squeeze, “we’ve got a treacle tart to make.”

[master-sass-blast]

Strong as Stone --Part Forty-Nine.

Welcome back!

Last week, we got to see the aftermath of the mission to dismantle a HYDRA cell in Australia.

This week, we get to see the next stage of Okoye and M’Baku’s journey to parenthood.

This update is rated: T for mild adult language and some sexually suggestive content.

Pairings: Okoye x M’Baku.

@the-last-hair-bender, @skysynclair19

Even though the river constantly moves, there will still be places of rest. Places where the current smooths out and you can just float.

Appreciate those places when you find them, my dears. They’ll disappear before you know it.

Okoye couldn’t help but smile as she admired the fully finished rail system. “Well done, Princess.”

Shuri beamed at her and waved her hand with a flourish, ushering her forward. “Everything’s completely finished –testing, recalibrations, furnishing, all of it. You and your mini Jabari will be perfectly safe.”

“I don’t doubt it. Your work has little competition, in or outside of Wakanda.”

Shuri let out a snort and leaned towards Okoye to whisper conspiratorially. “Tell that to the Chief, please. I had to spend an hour reassuring him that the rail system was completely safe for you to ride up. I understand fear of the unknown, but I’d rather not have to deal with that headache again.” She smirked. “It’s like talking to a wall.”

Okoye shook her head, smiling fondly. “I think he’ll relax a little once I arrive safely.”

“Of course. You’re precious cargo twice over now –you and your little one. Unfortunately, you’ll be the only one on the train aside from the staff required to man it. It’ll be a lonely half hour.”

“I’m sure I can find a way to use the time. Besides—” she pressed her hand against the small swell of her abdomen “—I won’t be alone.”

Shuri grinned, chuckled. “Of course not. I wish you a safe trip, General. Oh, and congratulations.”

Okoye smiled back and bowed her head politely. “Thank you, Princess.”

She contemplated using the thirty minutes to get a leg up on work –well, another leg up, technically, but progress was progress no matter how you spelled it.

All it took was one good look at the scenery zipping by, and she was sucked in. So, she opted to sit in her seat, watch Wakanda go by, and let her mind wander.

Her world would be changing drastically in five short months. She’d be a mother –a mother of a Chief’s child, no less. Even though she’d still be working –an option she was grateful to have available to her—there’d still be expectations of her from the Jabari tribe.

I’ll probably have to run fewer missions abroad, Okoye realized as the train started climbing into the mountains in earnest. Even if I wasn’t with M’Baku and this wasn’t his baby, I’ll still be needed here.

She’d miss some of the traveling, getting to see different parts of the world, but it wasn’t hard to let go of altogether. She wanted to be present for her baby, wanted to see them develop and grow firsthand. She couldn’t do that if she was halfway across the world every other moment.

I won’t miss jet lag, that’s for damn sure.

Out of all the things she was uncertain about –managing hers and M’Baku’s work schedules along with the baby’s needs, adjusting into a different role as General while still remaining an active and involved leader, raising an actual human being to be decent and kind—the one thing she wasn’t worried about was how hers and M’Baku’s beliefs would coexist with raising their child.

The priestesses of Hanuman had already been remarkably accommodating in respecting her different practices and beliefs. Granted, she was being educated on the basics of Jabari beliefs and spirituality –though she already knew most of it from spending time with M’Baku and Dewani—but she hadn’t been asked to change her diet, her lifestyle, or formally convert.

Part of her figured that she was lucky to be able to retain her beliefs.

The other part of her figured that, perhaps, F’Tendi’s staunch piety –bigotry—had affected her more than she’d thought, planted the seeds of fear that she’d be greeted with closed minds and rejection.

Okoye stood as the train slowed smoothly to a stop. Whatever the case may be, I’m just glad things are going smoothly.

The doors slid open, revealing M’Baku and his primes, along with O’Chenga.

M’Baku smiled –relieved, very relieved—when she stepped off the train in one piece. “It’s good to see you.”

Okoye locked her arms around his neck as he lifted her off the ground in a hug –more gingerly than he did before she got pregnant—and sighed into the furs he wore on his shoulders. “It’s good to see you, too.”

He set her back down –careful to make sure both her feet were on the stone pavement and that she was steady before he let her go—and kissed her forehead before taking her bag from her. “Come on. We’ve got a busy night ahead of us.”

When T’Challa and Nakia had announced their pregnancy, just last month, the kingdom had veritably erupted into celebration mode.

Granted, not just because a royal baby and the future of Wakanda was on the way, but because it was also proof positive that T’Challa could, in fact, do more than freeze and stare in Nakia’s presence, which was worth celebrating in and of itself.

Still, the following celebrations, rituals, and public engagements had required no small amount of planning on Okoye’s part to make sure everything went smoothly and safely. Even with basic guidelines from Generals and Doras past, she’d still had her hands full with making sure that all gifts were checked by security –not that there’d ever been an incident, but good habits were good habits—that all the tribal locations T’Challa and Nakia had travelled to were secure –again, good habits—and that everyone on the guest list for both the formal and informal celebration parties were checked and double checked.

So, when M’Baku had asked what kind of announcement party she’d wanted, she’d said, “Something lowkey that I don’t have to help plan or run security for.”

And he’d found a way to give her just that.

The celebration was being held in the main square by the Great Lodge. Granted, everyone from the tribe was welcome to attend, and it was an event to celebrate the announcement of their pregnancy, but it was more than that; it was also a night for everyone to celebrate or honor the recent transformation in their lives as well –joyful or not—as one big community.

It reminded her of the Spring festival, in a way. Tonight wasn’t just about them, it was about the tribe as a whole.

It was perfect.

M’Baku grinned knowingly as he helped her into her seat next to a crackling bonfire. “How’d I do?”

“If we weren’t expected to be here,” Okoye murmured, careful to keep her voice low so no one would overhear. “I’d drag you to the nearest empty room and ride you senseless.”

M’Baku’s eyebrows shot up as he laughed. “I take it I can count this as a success.”

“Definitely.”

The night was nothing short of perfect.

Food, drink, and laughter flowed freely as the tribe celebrated the past year and each other. Occasionally, there were a few mourners –those who had lost family members or friends to illness or age—but they didn’t have to wait long until they were surrounded by other members of the tribe, supported and comforted.

It reminded Okoye of her own community with the Dora Milaje.

There were those that presented gifts to her and M’Baku –village leaders, a few of the priestesses, other prominent members of the tribe—for their upcoming journey as parents, for the pregnancy, or for the baby once they were born.

But Okoye didn’t even have to keep track of the gifts for the night. O’Chenga kept a working list of who presented what and what formal recognition of thanks would need to be given.

All she had to do was say “thank you” in the moment, examine the gift for a polite amount of time, and then sit back.

It’d been a while since all she’d had to do was sit back and not think about everything going on in the moment.

“I could get used to it,” she told M’Baku later that night, long after the festivities had concluded and they’d retired to his bedroom. “Just for a little bit.”

M’Baku chuckled, hugged her closer to his chest, and kissed her forehead. “I can’t say that I blame you.”

“We haven’t figured out what we’re doing with the nurseries yet,” Okoye called out between sips of herbal tea –coffee, sadly, had been on the “no-no list” for pregnant women.

The morning after the pregnancy announcement found her fatigued; granted, pregnancy itself was tiring, but the night of socializing and celebrating had worn her out.

M’Baku had suggested they take the day slowly to let her rest and recover.

And, technically, she supposed working on the plans for the nurseries –one for her new apartment when she found it, and one for their bedroom in the lodge—wasn’t exactly resting, but she’d never been the best with vacations, anyway.

May as well use the time while we have it.

M’Baku chuckled as he strode out of the bathroom connected to his room, towel slung around his hips from having showered. “I take it that means you want to talk about it now.”

She shrugged. “We have the time. May as well make use of it.”

“You know, resting is also a good way to use time.”

“Okay, yes, I know, but the baby will be here in five months and we don’t even have a list of what we want in each nursery.”

M’Baku relented with a chuckle and a calming gesture with his hands. “Alright, alright. Let’s make a list. What were you thinking?”

“Actually, I was thinking that I don’t want to have two totally identical nurseries. My apartment and the Great Lodge are two totally different places, situated in two different cultures,” she explained. “I think it makes sense for the nurseries to reflect that.”

M’Baku furrowed his brow contemplatively. “So, what, have the necessary items from each of our culture in both nurseries, but then tailor the nursery in Birnin Zana towards you and the one here towards me?”

“Basically.”

He shrugged, brow relaxing. “That sounds fine. What were you thinking of having in both nurseries?”

“I’m not… entirely sure. I know more about childrearing for unified Wakandan culture than I do for the Jabari tribe.”

M’Baku sat down next to her on the bed and squeezed her hand comfortingly. “Well, why don’t you tell me what you would see us using in Birnin Zana, then I can tell you what we’d use here as a counterpart, and we can go from there.”

Okoye nodded as she took another sip of tea. “Most of it’s pretty straightforward. The only big difference I can think of is that is probably different is the technology that the cribs, high chairs –basically anything the baby might sleep in or sit in—use. It’s designed to monitor the baby’s vitals and sends a readout to the parents’ kimoyo beads. The cribs also have technology to help the baby sleep and track the development of sleep cycles.”

“That could be handy,” M’Baku admitted. “Though I’m not sure how well all the technology will be received up here.”

“I was thinking the only vibranium-based piece of technology I’d ask for up here is the stuff for the crib,” Okoye interjected. “That way if something happens while the baby’s sleeping –while we’re sleeping—we’d known about it right away.”

M’Baku considered for a moment, then nodded. “That’s reasonable –and, admittedly, will probably help us sleep better.”

“I thought the same. What about your traditions?”

“Well, Jabari wood features heavily into the furniture used for the nursery –cribs, changing tables, that kind of thing. Most families have more than one kid, so it’s designed to last through multiple rounds of childrearing, through multiple generations of families. The council, though, isn’t fond of the idea of transporting too much of the wood outside of the territory border. It is a sacred material to us.”

“We can buy a crib for my apartment in Birnin Zana, along with whatever else we might need furniture-wise,” Okoye said. “I was kind of expecting that might be the case.”

M’Baku shrugged. “We’re a proud people. We don’t want others stealing integral parts of our culture just because they think it looks ‘cool.’”

“I get it,” Okoye said as she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “It’s understandable.”

“Thank you.” He smiled as he kissed her gently. “Though, one thing we will need are the teething toys.”

Okoye arched an eyebrow. “You make teething toys out of Jabari wood?”

“It’s treated to make sure the baby won’t get splinters in their mouth, but yes, we do.”

Okoye chuckled and shook her head as she finished off the last of her tea. “Alright. We can have Jabari wood teething toys. Anything else?”

“What colors are we going to use?” He let out a derisive snort. “Are we going with the Western ‘pink or blue’ thing?”

“Bast, no.”

“Thank Hanuman. I was worried you’d want to do that.”

“Over my dead body,” Okoye muttered. Louder, she said, “I was thinking we’d use a lot of green, actually. I know it’s an important color to the Jabari.”

M’Baku nodded approvingly. “The color of rebirth and new life. Very fitting for a nursery.”

“And I was thinking… maybe some blue as well? For the Border tribe?”

M’Baku smiled softly. “Of course. Oh, we should use red, too.”

“Red?”

“For your status as a Dora Milaje.” He grinned. “If you think our child is going to be raised without knowing about your prowess as a warrior, you are sorely mistaken.”

“We don’t need to shove it down their throat.”

“We aren’t going to ‘shove it down their throat,’ ‘koye. But I’m deeply proud of the warrior and General you are, and I want to make sure our child appreciates it just as much.”

Okoye couldn’t help but smile as she leaned in to kiss him. “You’re sweet.”

The kiss sent a shockwave of lust and hormones through her body, and Okoye found herself climbing into M’Baku’s lap before she could stop herself.

The other happy side effect of pregnancy: she was damn near insatiable.

M’Baku chuckled as she pushed him onto his back. “Oh, really?”

Okoye smirked down at him. “I mean, you’re not dressed yet. May as well take advantage of that now.”

M’Baku grinned up at her as his hands settled on her hips. “Fair enough.”

[samsexualdeancurious]

Blind Love | Chapter 25

Pairing: Dean x Castiel

Words: 2,572

Story Summary: When Dean is blinded on a hunt, Cas loves him through it.

Chapter Summary: Dean’s birthday!

Betaed by @manawhaat​

Masterlist

Dean doesn’t have to miss his friends for long, because Cas decides he wants to throw a huge party for Dean’s birthday. Dean’s never really celebrated his birthday- not since he was little- and there have been some years when he’s missed it entirely. Use to be he would drag Sam to a restaurant and get a free dessert of some kind, or free drinks at a bar. That’s mostly stopped since he and Cas started dating- he prefers to spend the night in with his boyfriend, probably having sex of some kind. In short, a party is not Dean’s scene.

“Cas, you don’t have to do all this,” he insists for what must be the hundredth time. He’s lying upside down on the bed, socked feet up on the headboard. Cas is seated at their shared desk, making a long to-do list.

“I want to,” Cas replies, also for what must be the hundredth time.

“I know, but you don’t have to.”

Cas sighs heavily and twists in his chair- Dean can hear the squeak of the wood. “Dean. I want to do this for you. If you would like me to stop, I can do that. I don’t mind. We can have a quiet night in like we usually do.”

Dean thinks about that for a moment. He loves their quiet nights in- he really does. But the last time he had a party, he was too little to really remember anything beyond cake and lots of people and brightly colored balloons, and he wants that. He wants that really bad.

“No,” Dean says quietly. “You can do it if you want.”

Cas reaches over and takes Dean’s hand. “Good, because I do want to. I want to give you all the things you’ve never had, Dean, because you deserve them and I’m going to make sure you know it.”

Dean blushes and turns his face away, but he doesn’t let go of Cas’ hand.

Cas has it all planned out.

Sam helps him put streamers and balloons in the library- they’re able to start on this a few days before the party because Dean can’t see the giant “Happy Birthday” banner spanning the library or the streamers wrapped around the pillars.

Cas tries to make a cake on his own, using a box he had Sam pick up, but it turns out so bad that Dean insists on making the cake, even though it’s for his birthday. Sam decorates it, leaving Cas to make sure that all of the snack foods they got are ready and properly arranged on a library table.

Jody arrives the night before. She fixes Sam’s cake decorating, takes over making food for everyone else, and literally kicks Dean out of the kitchen with laughter on her lips at the way the blind man gropes her foot against his ass with one hand, his other in front of him to make sure he doesn’t run into anything, and takes over making food for everyone else. It’s not going to be a huge event- just the people who came for Christmas- but Cas is excited to be able to celebrate Dean’s birthday properly.

Donna gets there the next morning, bringing Claire and Alex with her. Charlie and Eileen are the last to arrive, just before lunch. Charlie comes bearing the complete box set of Doctor Sexy, much to Sam’s amusement. Dean goes red, but he clearly appreciates the gift and Cas has a feeling he’s going to get caught up on the show very soon. Charlie didn’t need to bring a present, though.

Cas has actually been planning this for months and all of their friends have pitched in on the present. He had wanted the gift to be ready by Christmas, but that was unfortunately impossible. Dean’s birthday works fine, though. In fact, the timing is almost better.

They have burgers and oven baked fries, and then cake and ice cream. Pretty much everyone got Dean a little present- most of it candy- just so he has some things to unwrap. When it comes time for the main present, Cas’ stomach is in knots.

“Dean, we, as a group, got together to get you this gift,” Cas tells him, holding his lover’s hand tight. “But if you don’t want it, it’s not too late to return everything. Someone else can use it.”

Dean’s brow is furrowed, but he’s smiling. “Where is it, Cas?”

“Not here yet. It won’t be ready for another few weeks, because you’re needed for the last bit, but we have all the supplies.”

“Cas, stop beating around the bush and tell me what it is.” Dean’s tone is light, teasing. His thumb rubs gently over Cas’ knuckles.

Jody brings out the big box and Dean rips off the paper with the exuberance of a child at Christmas. The first item he pulls off the top is a squeaky toy in the shape of a bone. Dean frowns, but more in confusion than anything else, turning the item over in his hands.

“Cas, you got me a dog?”

“Not just any dog,” Cas specifies. “A seeing-eye dog.”

He can see Dean processing, understanding those words and what that means for him. “Oh,” he says softly, seemingly unaware of the fact that everyone is watching him, waiting for his response.

Cas bites his lip, forcing himself to hang onto Dean’s hand. He really wants this for Dean- it would help him be more independent, help Sam and Cas to not worry so much about him. He also thinks that a dog, in general, would be really good for Dean. It would give him something that depends on him and give him some more purpose.

“Okay,” Dean says finally. “I’ll give it a try.”

Cas is practically bouncing in the backseat of the Impala. He’s like a child and Dean can’t help a small smile despite his reservations about this whole thing. Their lifestyle, despite recent changes, doesn’t really lend itself to pets, and while he knows a seeing-eye dog isn’t really a pet, it’s still another mouth to feed and another life to worry about.

“Is this it?” Sam asks, pulling the car over to the curb where the GPS has told him to stop.

“Yes,” Cas replies, already opening his door. “Come on, Dean! I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

Her. It would be nice to have a female touch around the bunker, even if said female is a dog.

He allows himself to be dragged from the car and up to the front door of the business. The porch steps squeak a little under his feet. His heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of his chest and his stomach is twisted in knots. He’s pretty sure the last time he felt this nervous was Christmas.

Dean’s expecting to hear a dog barking when Cas knocks on the door. Instead, all he hears is the sounds of someone coming to answer the door and Sam coming up the steps behind him. The door opens and Dean has to remind himself to breathe.

“Castiel!” a bright female voice says. The way she greets him gives Dean the distinct feeling that this is far from the first time Cas has been here. “You’re right on time. This must be Sam and Dean”

“Hi,” Dean says softly, feeling very unsure.

“I’m Amanda, the trainer. Come on, come in.”

They’re ushered into the house. Dean feels hardwood floors under his feet and smells pine needles. Judging by how strong the smell is, it’s probably a candle or a wax melt. He holds on tighter to Cas’ hand.

“She’s just down here. Lizzy was running through some commands with her. Dean, how long has it been since you lost your sight?” She asks, and unlike others, it’s not intrusive when she does.

He clears his throat, “Uhh, about… seven months? I haven’t really been keeping track.”

“Not too long, then. You seem pretty well adjusted compared to a lot of clients we work with. So a seeing-eye dog was just a natural progression?”

Dean shrugs shyly. “Nah, it’s a birthday surprise, actually.”

“How are you feeling about it?” Amanda seems a little concerned, but she’s doing her best to keep it out of her tone.

“I’m nervous but excited,” Dean admits. “I think… I think it could be really good for me, but I’m also scared that things won’t work out.”

“You’ll be fine,” she assures him. “Want to come meet your dog?”

He nods, hoping he’s not coming across as too eager.

“Excellent. Right this way.”

They’re led down a hallway and into another room, where Dean can very clearly hear the sounds of an animal. The dog is calm, thankfully, and busy listening to another woman, who’s giving her instructions.

“Hi, Cas,” the new woman, Lizzy, says. “How are you today?”

“I’m well,” Cas replies. “Lizzy, this is my boyfriend, Dean, and his brother, Sam. Sam, Dean, this is Lizzy, Amanda’s daughter. And this,” he leads Dean over to hold out his hand toward the dog, “this is Lady.”

Dean swallows hard, feeling a cool, wet nose nudging along his fingers before a slightly rough tongue licks his palm.

“You can pet her,” Lizzy says. “She’s very calm and friendly. Perfect for this job.”

Dean lets his hand be set on the dog’s head. She has very short fur, which he can imagine will make her easier to care for when it comes to grooming, and floppy ears. Her skull is rock solid and broad;  he can already tell that she’s a very heavy set dog- not in a “fat” way, but simply in the way she’s built. He crouches down to her level and scratches down her neck and shoulders, taking in her broad chest and the powerful muscles coiled beneath her short coat.

“She’s beautiful,” Sam says behind Dean, a smile evident in his voice. The dog wiggles a little under Dean’s hands as he feels her out and he can only assume she’s wagging her tail at Sam’s comment.

“What kind of dog is she?” Dean asks, unable to identify it for himself.

“She’s a pit bull,” Amanda tells him, “which will probably get some weird looks and the occasional not so nice comment, given their reputation. They’re not the typical breed used as guide dogs, but they’re very intelligent, incredibly loyal, strong, sweet, dutiful...all the things you want from a guide dog and more, and Lady was born for this role. She’s one of the best dogs I’ve ever trained... and I’ve trained a lot of dogs.”

Dean doesn’t know much about pit bulls, except that they’re unfairly discriminated against. Sam likes to talk about dog breeds and Dean has sat through a few rants about how pit bulls are treated. He finds himself looking forward to learning more about them just so he can treat Lady right.

Speaking of.

“Hi, Lady,” Dean says quietly, voice a little shaky as he pushes past a sudden wave of emotion he wasn’t expecting. She makes a tiny whining sound, nuzzling closer to his hands, and he can hear her tail thumping against the floorboards as he scratches behind her ears. Dogs have never really been his thing- he personally prefers cats, despite the fact that they make him sneeze and his eyes water. But he knows, despite all his reservations, that this is right. This is going to be special. “I’m Dean. We’re gonna be friends, right?”

She sniffs his face and then licks his cheek. Dean can’t help but smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “We’re gonna be friends.”

Lady is actually done with her training, but now it’s Dean’s turn. They spend several hours going over the commands Lady knows. She shows him up easily and Dean quickly starts to feel more than a little dumb, but she seems to sense when his mood drops and will lick his hand to try and cheer him up.

She reminds him a little of Sam, to be honest, but he would never say that to his brother’s face.

When their session is over, Dean doesn’t want to leave her. He knows they’re going to be back soon, but he’s already attached. He shouldn’t be attached. He shouldn’t have let his guard down. Last time he did that, he had to leave his new friend behind with a couple of hippy freaks and even though he knew they would take good care of him, it hurt. He doesn’t want to go through that again.

“Are you feeling better about this?” Cas asks when Dean is reluctantly seated in the passenger seat of the Impala. A strong arm falls over Dean’s shoulder, offering a hand which he happily takes.

“I don’t want to go,” Dean admits. Sam’s still chatting with Amanda. He can hear his brother’s deep tones through the window. “I don’t want to leave her.”

“Just a week or two more and she can come home with us,” Cas assures him.

“I know, I just… I don’t want to wait that long. What if something happens and she can’t come home with us?”

“Nothing will happen, Dean. We’ll be back tomorrow to practice some more and we can work on stuff at home. The more you practice, the sooner she can come to the bunker. Right?” he gives Dean’s hand a squeeze.

“Right,” Dean mumbles as Sam gets into the car.

Dean’s feeling pretty motivated when he gets home and he makes Cas quiz him on all the commands he learned from Amanda. He wants to be as prepared as possible for their session tomorrow because Cas is right. The sooner Dean learns this stuff, the sooner Lady can come home with them, the better Dean will feel.

It only takes Dean a week to get everything down and when Amanda says they can take Lady home, Dean almost cries tears of joy. If someone had told him a year ago that he would be this excited about having a dog, he would have laughed in their face. Now, he doesn’t even mind the dusty paw prints she’s probably leaving all over the backseat of the Impala and his jeans. He chose to sit in the back with her, where he can scratch her ears and let her lick his face and tell her all about her new home, all while ignoring the sickeningly fond smile he knows Cas keeps sending his way.

When they get to the bunker, Dean lets Lady take her time exploring. He shows her the bed in the corner of the bedroom he shares with Cas and the food bowls in the kitchen. She’s already housebroken- kinda had to be in order to continue onto her guide dog training- so he puts reminders into his phone to take her out at regular intervals.

Cas got all the gear they need, including toys, her vest and the handlebar thingie, and enough food to last at least a month, but probably longer. He picked a food that’s certified people-grade or something, so it has real nutrients and will be better for her than regular dog food. Dean rolls his eyes at that- Cas has clearly been spending too much time with Sam- but he doesn’t complain. Anything to take better care of her.

She’s only been home a day and Dean never wants her to leave.

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Team Forever: @laughing-at-the-darkness @mrswhozeewhatsis @books-and-icecream ​

Team Destiel: @idelifrey @ilostmyshoe-79 @hexparker @smut-fluff-lemons-and-stuff @jwilly18 @ruined-by-destiel @keepingitrealcas @supernaturalfanfix @basic-joy @freedomcraziness ​

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[lucyintheskywithdiapers-blog]

Melanie's rules

- Melanie is only to refer to herself or be refered to as with female pronouns. She and her.

- Melanie is to be called a girl or a gurl only. She is inferior to women, ladies, men, and boys.

- Melanie is forbidden to speak of herself in first person. Melanie will always refer to herself as Melanie, sissy, girl, etc.

- Melanie is only to refer to me as Master.

Dress.

- Melanie is forbidden from wearing shorts, tennis shoes, pants, t-shirts, hats, men's shoes, or any garment which is deemed masculine.

- Melanie belongs in skirts and dresses. The girlier the better.

- Melanie will only be allowed to be either barefoot or in heels.

- When Melanie is allowed out of the house, she will wear only the panties that are chosen for her.

- When Melanie is at home, or staying elsewhere with her Master, she will be in diapers 24/7.

- Melanie is forbidden from changing her own diaper. If Melanie needs to be changed, she must have a caretaker or any adult change her diaper.

- Melanie is to wear her chasity cage at all times. Unless her Master has allowed it. There are only two keys to Melanie's cage, and both are possessions of Master.

- Melanie will always have pink displayed somewhere. If asked, pink is Melanie's favorite color. Additionally, all of Melanie's toys like butt plugs, vibrators, chasity cages shall be pink.

- Melanie is wear makeup at all times. Including having her nails painted.

- Melanie wears the marks of her Master, always. On her left ankle is an anklet that is never to come off under any circumstances. She shall also wear a collar to display she is owned. At home, Master will select whichever collar he deems for her, Melanie has no say. Away from home, master may allow her a more subtle day collar. No matter the collar she wears, it shall he locked and only Melanie's master has the key.

Expectations.

- The restroom is forbidden from Melanie. Unless otherwise allowed by her Master, Melanie is expected to use the diapers she is put in.

- Melanie is expected to wake up 30 minutes before her Master to make sure she is presentable for him.

- Melanie is no longer allowed to work. Her job is to serve her Master anyway he deems. She is to be his cook, maid, receptionist, secretary, and butler.

- Daily chores: make the bed, clean the dishes, cook breakfast, lunch, dinner, clean and fold Master's clothes, trash, sweeping, shower and groom, tidy Master's office space.

- Melanie is to keep a diary of her sissihood so her Master can read it.

- Melanie is not allowed to use any furniture. The exception is the bed when Master allows Melanie to sleep with them.

- When eating, Melanie will serve Master and his baby first, and herself last. While eating, Melanie is to sit on the floor at Master's feet.

- Melanie is expected to also be a nanny to Master's first and actual lover.

-Melanie is not allowed to leave the yard without expressed permission from Master.

-Melanie is is no longer allowed ID. Melanie surrendered all proof of her person hood to Master when she became his property

- Melanie is not allowed to own possessions. The clothes she wears are property of Master. This includes a phone.

- In public, Melanie is not allowed to speak except to give answers to questions directly asked of her.

- Sissies are expected to talk like good girls. Melanie may not use adult words.

- Decisions are not for sissies. When out, Melanie may not make decisions for herself, such as ordering food. She will wait for her Master, Caretaker, or adult to decide for her.

Hiearchy

- Master is first and foremost.

- After Master is his baby. Melanie may be charged with taking care of or babysitting the baby, but the baby is in charge. Melanie is a slave to the baby as well.

- Melanie is NEVER in charge. If Master, or his baby are not around, a caretaker shall be appointed over Melanie. Melanie is to obey her caretaker as if he/she are her actual owner.

- If Melanie is given a command or an order by any adult, she is expected to comply. Only if she has been told otherwise by her caretaker or master may she do otherwise.

- Melanie is to obey any directive given to her by a male. This includes male children. Any male is above Melanie. Melanie may ignore obviously illegal orders, but otherwise should always show obedience to males.

- Melanie is forbidden from having a relationship with others. She belongs only to her Master, and she may consider herself his Slave-Wife.

Servitude.

- As Master's sissy and slave, she will have objects used on her for her Master's pleasure. This includes shackles, cuffs, spreader bars, dildos, butt plugs, gags, blindfolds, crops, pacifiers, diapers, leashes, ropes, hoods, masks, anal beads, or remote devices.

- Sissy girl has no right to ask for any of these items to be used or discontinued from use on her. If her Master elects to use thess things on Melanie, she will continue until her Master stops them.

- Leash training. If a leash is placed on Melanie, she is to stop whatever she is doing and drop to all four and give full attention to her handler. While she is on leash, she is not allowed to stand. She must also, without asking, obediently follow whoever is holder her leash. However, she must crawl to do so. If her handler decides to tie the leash somewhere, she is under order to stay there and wait until either someone comes to take control of her by taking up the leash or if the leash is removed from her.

- Melanie will always have a pacifier on her person, that must be visible. If any adult or male orders her to put her pacifier in or actually places the pacifier in her mouth, she will follow her pacifier etiquette until another adult or male removes it. She is not allowed to remove her pacifier unless she was the one that used it

- Pacifier etiquette. Melanie is not allowed to speak, type, or write in any way when a pacifier is in her mouth. She may only nod or shake her head.

Service.

- Melanie's chief priority is the desire of her Master. Her Master owns her, her butt, her clit, and her mouth, so the sissy must always be prepared to allow Master to use the sissy body however he see fit.

- As a sissy, Melanie is not allowed to have a sexuality. She is expected to please either men or women with her mouth or butt, but her clit is off limits except for Master. Melanie is not supposed to enjoy servicing men and women, only perform. Her body is a tool for pleasure.

- Melanie is never to waste a drop of cum. She is ordered to make certain that any cum is stored inside her. If she gives a blowjob, sissy will swallow the cum, and if she is butt fucked, she must attempt to hold all of it inside when they finish in her. If some falls to the ground, or she is ordered to take shots to her face, she will clean up with her tongue as soon as she can.

- Melanie will thank any man who gifts her with cum.

- Melanie will refer to all males as sir, even children. She will refer to all women as ma'am. She may refer to child females by name, but still respectfully.

- Melanie will refer to her owner as Master (or occasionally Daddy). She will call Master's baby by Mistress, and her caretaker as Lord or Lady.

- Melanie is not allowed to touch her own clit. That belongs to only Her Master. When sissy is allowed masterbation, it will be with dildos and vibrators in her butt.

Punishment

- Melanie has signed to obey these rules and willingly submits herself to be punished if she disobeys.

- Some punishments have been washing her mouth out with soap. Not having her wet and messy diapers changed for three days resulting in severe diaper rash. The pacifier etiquette rule. Being taken on a hike wearing a short skirt and diapers. Being babysit by a ten year old girl. Enforced bed time in a cage.

[amaranthkick]

Rescue Dog

A kinda subspecies of my other werewolf au. modern au with hints of fantasy

When Shiro was in his late teens he was caught off guard by a sudden mudslide from the torrential downpour that took the town by surprise. He was buried under heavy mud and debris and all alone.  He kept shouting for help.

Lance, a werewolf, was searching for shelter in his wolf form. His fur was completely drenched in rain and mud. His territory destroyed by the mudslide. Luckily his family could sense the strong storm way before it hit and escaped. Lance volunteered to stay behind in case any other animals needed help and to help in the start of fixing up his territory after the damage has been done.

Lance was startled when he hears a faint cry for help. It's a bit close to the human city but he treks through the mud anyway.

Shiro is shivering badly from the cold. There was no one answering back. He doesn't know how long he's been there and doesn't want to give up but the cold is quickly sapping his strength. Tears slip out as he closes his eyes thinking this might be it for him.

Shiro doesn't know what happened but the next thing he knew something pressing hard on his stomach to make him cough out some mud and then a wet tongue licking the mud off his face. He gasps as he opened his eyes to see his saviour: a very large dog with deep bright blue eyes. They stand out against the dreary grey the clouds covered the town in. Could-- could it be a rescue dog?

The dog went under his arm seemingly trying to make him stand. Shiro bravely tries to get up only to fall but the dog catches and carries him on his back. The dog is carrying back to the city, to rescuers, Shiro realizes. He's still cold and weak from his ordeal but clings onto his saviour with all his might. He whispers thank you’s through chattering teeth before he loses consciousness.

When Shiro wakes up, he's in a hospital the dog nowhere in sight. He asks about it but no one knows about it.

---

Inspired by this experience, Shiro becomes an emergency responder and works with a rescue dog [he thinks is] just like the one that rescued him. When he was learning about rescue dogs he was surprised to learn that they don't usually do what that one rescue dog did.

But one day there was an accident and Shiro lost his right arm and his rescue dog partner. Shiro was grief stricken and depressed from then on. Keith and Matt and Allura and all his friends try to get him back on his feet. Coran, Matt, Hunk and Pidge worked together to build him a high-tech prosthetic. But he pushes them away and distances himself saying he just wants some space. But they won't give up on him.

They decide to give him his space but Pidge and Hunk recruits their friend Lance to look after him from a distance.

(They met when Pidge and Hunk went camping once but got lost in the woods. Lance found them and led them back to civilization. He has a cabin in the woods for appearance sake as humans are ever expanding their territory. Best to look like he's a human who lives in a decent place. His family visits from time to time.) They meant to introduce Shiro to Lance but Shiro not knowing could give Lance more cover.

Lance gets this nagging feeling like he's seen Shiro before. His scent is familiar too. But he seems so sad now, it makes his heart ache. Pidge and Hunk said to look after him and keep out of sight so maybe cheering him up counts too?

But what cheers up a human? Lance also doesn't know why Shiro is so down in the dumps.

---

Lance's first guess is food. Lance loves it when Hunk makes him lunch.

He doesn't really know how to cook though. But Pidge gave him some human money so something bought might do.

Shiro was sitting in a park bench shivering slightly in crisp air. His eyes closed trying to clear his head. After the accident it felt like a dark cloud settled over him that he just can't shake off. He tries to act normal for his friends but forcing himself only makes him feel worse. He's at a loss at what to do.

That's when a sudden whoosh of wind startled him out of his thoughts. He looked around but no one was around. He had to do a double take at the other end of the bench. W--was that cupcake always there?

It had light blue icing with sprinkles on top.

No, of course not. He looked around one last time. But again there is no one. Like hell he's going to eat this very suspicious cupcake so gets up and leaves.

Lance is a little miffed that Shiro ignored his cupcake. But it started to make sense as he takes a bite watching Shiro go. Maybe Shiro doesn't like sweets.

Lance tries again with his favorite food: meat, a t-bone steak. Raw meat, like still in its grocery package raw. He manages to place it on top of Shiro's bag without him noticing and retreats to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Shiro starting to get weirded out. First a strange cupcake and now meat? Are these gifts? If so, how come he doesn't find any sign of the person so he can tell them to stop. He takes the packaged meat off of his bag and once again makes like a tree and leaves but glances once or twice back at it to try and catch the strange gifter.

When Shiro stops looking back, Lance whimpers at another dejected gift. ‘But oh well, his loss,’ he thinks as he rips open the package and gets his fill.

---

Shiro is mentally sweating, who is this mysterious gifter? First a strange assortment of foods then weird materials like a rock, pieces of wood and a small ceramic tile. Now it's softer things like a feather this one time, a pillow the next.

Shiro is determined to catch person in the act. He's only seen this done on tv shows but he has his phone to act as a mirror while looking like he is using his phone. He's back at the park, one side of the bench empty hoping the guy will place the newest gift on the empty space.

His phone captures some movement quickly drawing his attention. He sees this stranger that seems like Hunk’s or Keith’s age, tongue sticking out in concentration as he carefully sets a small stuffed teddy bear on the bench. It's kinda endearing. He has to hand it to the guy though, he's good. Shiro can hardly hear a sound. Overall, the person doesn't seem all that threatening.

When he is sure the guy left, he takes the stuffed toy in his hands and looks it over.

Then it hits him, are his friends putting this poor guy up to this? All for his sake. Shiro frowns at the thought. He doesn't want them worrying about him or wasting their efforts on him. He's going to confront them about it so they can get this person to not bother with him.

Shiro gently swipes his thumb over the soft fur of the bear. Maybe if he kept the bear the person will be satisfied for a bit.

---

Shiro confronts Pidge as she is talking with her brother and Hunk.

Matt is surprised as Pidge and Hunk admit to hiring Lance to look after him. Shiro glares at Matt when he mutters, “why didn't I think of that?”

“You can tell him to stop, I--I’m fine, really guys. You can stop worrying about me. And stop getting Lance to deliver these gifts.” He holds the stuffed bear up for them to see.

“It was our idea. Don't be upset with La-- wait, gifts?” Pidge shares a confused look with Hunk. “Shiro, we only told him to look after you. You know, keep an eye on you from a distance. Any gifts you got were personally given by him.”

“Yeah, maybe he wanted to cheer you up in his own way.” Hunk said.

Huh, what about that. Shiro smiled warmly as he held the stuffed toy tenderly. It did feel nice to secretly receive presents from this guy even if some of them were weird. Someone who put in that time and effort just for him.

“Aww, does someone like getting gifts from a secret admirer?” Pidge teased.

“N--no!” Shiro denied even as he held the stuffed bear closer to his chest. He grumbled and left beet red as the others continued laughing and snickering.

---

It seemed keeping the teddy bear cemented what kind of gifts Lance would bring him as he continued to receive stuffed animals. It made sense for Lance to keep to this safe option as he did rebuff all his other attempts.

Although there was the occasional cupcake or food item that he did enjoy eating now that he knew it was a gift from Lance (Those were times when Lance was hungry and hoping Shiro would ignore the gift so he could eat it. But Lance was happy to see Shiro enjoy his gift anyway.)

A few days in a row Shiro didn't receive a gift. Shiro was getting a little sad about it. Then he got embarrassed realizing that he had been looking forward to Lance's gifts no matter what they were. But then he noticed a big (couch cushion sized) teddy bear next to him. He chuckled to himself as he held it in front of him. Was Lance saving up to buy this for him? Large teddy bears did cost more than smaller ones.

Lance doesn't have to spend his money on him. They barely know each other. That's it. He's going to get Pidge to talk to Lance so they could properly be introduced.

---

One night he gets an awful nightmare of his accident. He needed a visit to a bar but he usually had someone to go with so he doesn't overdo it. Or even just someone to keep him company. His friends however, must all still be asleep.

He doesn't want to bother them but then he has an idea. A small hope. Pidge said Lance was looking after him. So maybe, just maybe…

Shiro is on his way to a bar when he calls out for Lance. He doesn't call out too much it's still the middle of the night. He looked around waiting for some kind of answer. Shiro sighs heavily, berating himself for putting all his hopes on some miniscule chance--

“Shiro?” He jumps at the small voice and rapidly looks back and forth.

There, hiding slightly behind a tree, hesitant because Pidge told Lance that Shiro knows but to still give him some space and Lance wants do a good job so he could get more money for more presents. It's not like he has any other need for this human paper money. On Hunk's suggestion, he does keep some tucked away in his cabin.

“Lance!” Shiro's surprised by how relieved he sounds. He smiles when Lance happily waves at him.

“You don't have to keep watching me from a distance, you know.” Shiro says as he walked up to Lance gently coaxing him out of hiding. “You can save your money too. I don't need a gift everyday.”

“But I want to, you smile more often now.” He feels pleased when Shiro blushes. But honestly he does like to see Shiro happy.

Shiro gasps noticing Lance's deep blue eyes. They remind him of… nevermind. He shakes his head, it couldn't be. It was just a silly thought.

Shiro takes them to a local joint and finds he really enjoys his company. He was new, didn't look at him with judgemental or pitiful stares. He felt less overwhelmed and ready to lessen the gap he made between himself and his friends.

But his old scars still hurt, the emotional wounds of the claws from his nightmare still fresh in his mind.

He feels like he owes Lance at least some explanation for dragging him around in the night so he takes a cup full of liquid courage to get ready.

In the end he confessed about the accident, feeling lost, feeling awful about how he was treating his friends even though they were just trying to help. It helped that Lance was listening intently, taking each word seriously and waiting patiently for Shiro get his thoughts in order. Shiro became braver, willing to confess something he hasn't told anyone else for fear of being made fun of for thinking about it.

He admits that he was rescued a few years back by a rescue dog all by itself during a mudslide. It's why he worked hard to work with one too. But losing his partner, he was scared of losing another innocent partner. But he also felt like he disappointed the one who rescued him. He became broken and useless now, he wasn't worth saving back then.

Lance inhales sharply as he remembers: him! It's him! Shiro’s the one he saved that day! And did his actions really impact him that much? But what's this about disappointing him? Shiro could never do that, he had to make known. Without telling him he's a werewolf or the rescue dog from back then, of course.

Lance takes Shiro’s hand in his. “Shiro, I don't think you could ever disappoint him. You saved lives! Yes, you got hurt and are stumbling but now you're healing. I think... that he would think that you are the real hero.”

Shiro didn't know he was crying until Lance wiped the tears off his face. He hasn't met someone who didn't brush off the mysterious rescue dog as some crazy idea born from hypothermia. And Lance's tone… it felt so genuine like he believed in his words. It made him feel like he could believe them too.

Shiro passed out a few moments later (the lightweight). Lance dropped the jaws of several other customers when he carried Shiro on his back with ease.

On his way back to Shiro’s house (Pidge told Lance of the spare key under the welcome mat) Shiro started mumbling and fidgeting. It all felt so familiar, like back then when he was on the back of that rescue dog. Oh how he wanted to meet it again, tell it thank you when he wasn't half delirious  from the cold. He wondered if it would understand, what he's been through lately. Shiro felt it nuzzle back at him a murmur in the air, he could almost believe it came from the his savior, “You're going to be okay, things are going to be alright.”