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the-greatest-magic-of-all · 4 months

Note

For the fanfic bingo, what if Fabriz 'grabbed the wrong bag' but they didn't grab each other's bags, Fabian grabbed the wrong bag and now has to figure out where his bag that has a sleeping riz in it went

Ugh, Anon your mind! Gimme a sec...

Alright! I'm back with a fic that I really didn't expect to be as long as it is... I really have a problem. Anyway! Think of this as the spiritual successor to "Frightful Snow & Delightful Fire"! Because it's basically the same premise but this time it's hot instead of cold!

Send me a prompt and help me get a bingo!

Words: 8,881

The raucous noise of a tense battle rang out within the padded walls of the Aguefort gymnasium. Sounds of foam blades and bullets striking torsos and limbs. Squeaks from sneakers skidding against the shiny floorboards. Shouts from the audience of students, hyping up one side or the other.

Fabian sat amongst the rowdy crowd of teens next to a cheering Gorgug. His sweaty form lounged against the cool, hard metal of the sparring gym’s bleachers. Still somewhat panting from his match against a slippery aasimar monk. Priscilla Maynard, head cheerleader. She gave him a run for his money, ending their bout of fights in a draw. Two wins a piece.

Usually, he wouldn’t be fighting her during school hours. Most days, all of the martial classes were trained separately. But every so often, during last period, the martial teachers liked to combine their classes for the sake of keeping the students on their toes. It’s not like he’d be only duelling with other Fighters out in the wide world of Spyre. So, he couldn’t complain about this little switch-up. Especially since it meant that he got to watch his boyfriend kickass without having to be in any danger himself.

Riz Gukgak was certainly a sight to see on the battlefield. Blink and you’ll miss him. It was only with years of experience that he could track Riz’s relative position in the makeshift dynamic environment made up of foam shapes and raised platforms. He tumbled through the legs of his paladin opponent. Used his sword of shadows to get out of being cornered. His newfound arcane Mage Hand to trip them. Darted underneath a staircase to hide and gain Sneak Attack when he popped out to shoot his opponent with his Nerf arquebus. Landing shot after shot. Hit after hit.

Quite a sight indeed.

Umberlee below, Fabian loved him.

By the time his match was called in his favour, Riz’s tiny chest heaved and he looked a bit dead on his feet. But he still smiled as his rogue teacher, Ms. Shadow, lifted his arm in victory. His gaze found Fabian’s within seconds of searching the bleachers. Finding him clapping and cheering for his win, perhaps, too loudly. And if Fabian had a big enough ego (and he did!), he’d note that Riz’s smile got a bit wider when they locked eyes.

Porter’s deep, rocky voice interrupted their little moment with the announcement, “Thistlespring! You’re up next!”

Riz shot up in the air a foot, his tail standing on end, more than a little startled by the hulking Earth Genasi’s sudden appearance. Fabian could see it in his eyes as he silently cursed Porter’s innate earthen stealthiness as he hung the Nerf arquebus with the rest of the faux weapons. All before he scurried from the sparring mat. Making his way back up to his seat next to Fabian.

“Wish me luck?” Gorgug asked as he got up from his seat beside Fabian, offering his fist for a bump.

Never one to leave his boy hanging, Fabian quickly balled his fist and accepted the bump with a wink. “You know it.”

Riz accepted the fist bump that was offered to him as well, as he and Gorgug passed each other on their way up and down. It wasn’t too long before he bounded up the rows of bleachers, closing the distance. Using the last bit of his energy, he pushed off of the last step to jump, not into the seat next to Fabian, but directly into his arms.

And despite him being absolutely drenched in sweat, Fabian held him close. Settling Riz in his lap, he pressed a kiss on the top of his greenblack undercut and murmured, “Excellent work, darling.”

“Aww, thanks. You weren’t half bad yourself,” Riz said, rubbing his nose against the underside of his jaw and lacing their hands together in his lap. “Pretty sure Maynard only stunned you once.”

“Ugh, monks.” Fabian spat out as he scowled at the memory.

Riz chuckled as he poked Fabian in his dimpled cheek and said, “I’m invoking boyfriend privileges, by the way.”

“Oh?”

“Class is done in, like, ten minutes. I’m gonna crash in your backpack. That okay?” He asked as if he didn’t know that Fabian could never tell him no. Not when Riz looked up at him with his big, amber eyes.

“Sounds good to me, The Ball. Ooh, that’s gotta hurt,” He and Riz hissed in unison as they watched Gorgug land a critical hit on his opponent. Yes, it may have been with a foam greataxe, but Fabian wasn’t convinced he’d like to be on the business end of it. “Want me to drop you off at your office or home?”

“Neither,” Riz answered faintly, still caught up in that crit before he went into more detail. “Mom wants the apartment all to herself and Gorthalax tonight. And as a soon-to-be adult, I can appreciate her honesty and bluntness and I will honour her request. But also, BLEGH! SO GROSS!” Fabian let out a guffaw as Riz descended into exaggerated disgust, pantomiming gagging and clawing his eyes out. A couple of the students around them shot them annoyed looks, but Fabian paid them no mind. Eventually, Riz let his disgust at sex fade away, letting his head fall back against Fabian’s chest. “So, yeah. I’m going to be taking a Sleep spell gummy and really passing out. Like, for seven hours straight.”

Fabian hummed in thought. “I’d be remiss not to mention that that’s normally how long one sleeps for.”

“Sounds fake,” Riz said after he spent a couple of beats with his face screwed up in faux introspection. “Sleepover?”

Clutching his imaginary pearls, Fabian scoffed and turned his nose up at Riz. “Sure! Call me a liar and then ask for me to open my heart and my home to you!” His offended act lasted two more seconds before he softened and answered his question. “Of course, Mama won’t mind.”

“Alright, I’m going to beat the rush,” Riz said, getting up to crouch on Fabian’s lap and rub their cheeks together before scurrying off to the locker room.

Batting his eyelashes and twiddling his fingers after him, Fabian put on his silliest sexy voice and said, “See you in your dreams.”

“Blegh,” Riz said, wrinkling his nose. “Hate it when you do that.”

Fabian didn’t even try to hide how much he loved annoying Riz.

The class wrapped up about ten minutes later, following Gorgug’s winning match. Heading back to the locker room with the rest of the humongous throng of students, the two Bad Boys crowded into the now-tight space. Fielding accidental shoves and elbows to the stomach on the route back to their things. After an arduous journey, they arrived at their bags and quickly got to work on getting out of there as fast as possible.

After checking on Riz and finding his adorable sleeping form in his backpack, Fabian would’ve been out of there in a minute flat. Would’ve, if didn’t need to dig through his locker for the homework he’d carelessly shoved in there. Normally, he wouldn’t care, but Riz had been on him lately about caring about his academic success. Those big, amber puppy-dog eyes staring up at him in disappointment were his kryptonite. So, yes he needed to find this homework. And he needed to find it soon or else he’d be driven mad by the thundering chatter all around him.

With the sound level being what it was, Fabian could hardly hear himself think. Not with this cacophony of a hundred voices having a hundred conversations rattling around his head. Like the one occurring directly to his right.

Blaze Evermore, a jockish Fire Genasi linebacker on the Owlbears, was boasting about how his older brother was taking him to the City of Brass for the weekend. Got ‘em tickets to this underground pit fighting ring and everything. Interesting! It’d be far more interesting if Blaze’s bros weren’t jostling him around and pushing him into Fabian’s open locker door. Smacking his head with it via the proxy of Blaze’s bulky frame. All in good fun, yes. But Fabian was going to get a concussion if they didn’t—Found it!

With one good tug, he yanked a crumpled paper folder out from the bottom of his locker. Thrusting it into the air in triumph. Only to be reminded he was still surrounded by a bunch of boisterous guys when Blaze sent him and Gorgug crashing to the floor with an unintended hip-check.

“Whew, sorry, Cap!” Blaze said apologetically as he offered Fabian a heavy, calloused hand. Fabian grabbed it, happily taking the help up back to his feet. A little rocked in the head, but as a Bloodrush player, he was used to it. “Didn’t mean to knock you over.”

“That’s alright, Evermore. No harm done, except to my spleen. You okay, Gorgug?” Fabian asked, trying to shake the fall off as he watched Blaze help Gorgug up off of the ground as well before he bent down. Handing Fabian the closest fallen backpack to his feet. It didn’t even cross his mind to double-check that it was his because his mind was paying much more attention to not forgetting to grab The Ball’s briefcase. Why wouldn’t it be his? Slinging the backpack over his shoulder and taking the briefcase in hand, he gave Blaze a nod. “Have fun this weekend.”

Blaze smiled wide, revealing a missing canine tooth. “I will!”

“Gorgug, see you later.”

“See ya!”

Aguefort must have some type of soundproofing surrounding the locker rooms because as Fabian made it out of there, all was quiet. Almost deafeningly so. Not a peep came from the room behind him. The only sounds to hear were the idle hum of the academy settling for the day and his own breaths.

Whew.

Alright.

Time to head home.

The next hour passed rather uneventfully. Hangman only grumbled and huffed a little bit about Riz’s presence on the ride home. Receiving a couple of pats on his school for showing a level of restraint toward his boyfriend. He kissed his mothers on both of their cheeks as he passed through the kitchen on his way up to his room. Once inside, Fabian rested his Riz-filled backpack in the middle of his bed and the briefcase of holding next to it before he went about having a shower. He desperately needed to scrub after-sparring stink off of himself.

Clouds of steam followed in his wake as Fabian stepped out of his en suite bathroom and finished up working the last of his leave-in conditioner into his coils. With his comfy pair of silk pyjamas on, he was ready to spend the rest of the evening waiting for Riz to awaken from his spell-induced slumber. Which reminded him, he should take Riz out of his backpack now.

He hadn’t bothered when he first got home. Knowing that the space within his backpack held a certain appeal to Riz’s primal, Goblin brain. Warm, cramped, very cave-like, and thus, safe. This Fabian understood. Riz had assured him this many times, that he liked falling asleep in his backpack more than in his own bed. But Fabian couldn’t in good conscious keep in him in there for any longer.

Sliding across the wooden floor with his socks, he leapt onto his Chaos King-sized bed and crawled to the middle where he left his backpack. More than ready for some cuddling time with his favourite guy, Fabian’s heart stopped when he zipped it open and saw what was inside.

Nothing.

Well, not nothing.

A wave of grease and rubber accompanied the sight of school folders, crumpled-up papers, a cute lunchbox riddled with Sig Fig stickers... Oh, and a bag full of tinkerer’s tools. Fabian groaned. Slapping a hand across his forehead. When Blaze and his bros had bumped into him, he must’ve gotten mixed up and taken Gorgug’s backpack instead.

Nice going, Seacaster.

Zipping Gorgug’s bag back up and taking it with him, Fabian made his way off his bed to pick up his crystal. Holding it between his ear and shoulder as he strode over to his closet to throw on a jacket overtop his pyjamas. He’d only be out for a couple of minutes, he figured. No need to change for the ten minutes it would take The Hangman to get to the Thistlespring tree.

The first thing that he heard was the sound of sparks flying and a clank before Gorgug’s cheery voice came over the call. “Hey, Fabian! I’m kinda in the middle of welding something for my mom. What’s up?”

“Very sorry for interrupting, Gorgug. But it seems to be that we’ve swapped backpacks.”

“Oh? Yeah, I guess it was lighter than usual,” Another clanging sound erupted on the other end of the line. “Do you need it back now?”

“Yes, The Ball is sleeping in it.” Fabian could hear the wince in Gorgug’s voice, which in turn, made him pull a face. He knew how much learning the ways of artificing from his parents was important to Gorgug and how he silently hated being pulled away from it. But he really needed Riz back.

“Gotcha. Hold on,” Gorgug said before he leaned away from his crystal, his voice growing distant, to call out. “Mom, can you go get my backpack? It’s actually Fabian’s,” Suddenly his voice returned to its original volume as he asked, “Need me to bring him over?”

As he slipped his leather bomber jacket on, Fabian quickly said, “No, no, no! Don’t worry, I’m on my way.”

“Awesome. Huh?” Gorgug was pulled away from his crystal again and once it returned, his confused tone made Fabian’s stomach turn. “Uh, Fabian? My mom’s saying that Riz isn’t in there.”

“What are you talking about?” Fabian asked, his voice hollow as he stood stock still in the shadow of his closet. His heart beginning to race.

“She says—what’s that, Mom?” Another long moment of quiet as Wilma spoke to Gorgug not close enough to the crystal’s receiver for him to hear. Leaving him in suspense until Gorgug returned and said, “She says that it doesn’t seem like your bag anyway. There’s not much in it except for—oh, an Owlbears jersey with Evermore on the back. I think this is Blaze’s bag.”

“Which might mean that he has mine. Shit. Thanks, Gorgug. I have to go.”

“Yeah, of course. Good luck finding Riz! Bye!”

Didn’t Blaze say he was going to the City of Brass for the weekend? The same City of Brass in the Elemental Plane of Fire?… The one where if you head down the wrong winding street, you could be enslaved for it? That City of Brass?

Shit, shit, shit.

Fabian hung up as soon as he could and then went straight for his Fantasy Whatsapp app. He and Blaze had never really talked outside of practices, games, and passing each other in the halls, but they both were in the Owlbear group chat. Surely, if he just went through all of the participants in the chat he could find Blaze’s number. After a minute of scrolling and trying to leg bounce his anxieties away, he let an ‘Ah hah!’ as he found Blaze’s profile pic and his number underneath it.

Tapping the little crystal button next to Blaze’s number, he didn’t even get to agonize over the dial tone before a tinny artificial voice said, “We’re sorry. Your call cannot be completed as dialled. The person you are trying to reach has gone interplanar and the call cannot connect at this time. Please try your call again. Beep.”

Fuck.

Fabian stood in silence next to his open closet. A sense of emptiness and confusion filled his chest. Crystal still pressed up against his ear. The call disconnect tone, low and droning, beeped incessantly. Urging him to make a choice and end the call already. What was he going to do? What was he going to do? His grip on his crystal tightened as his face hardened in resolution and he realized there was only one thing to do.

He’s going to get his boyfriend back.

But first, he definitely had to change out of his pyjamas.

Riz stirred from his deep slumber for only a moment. Long enough to yawn and stretch and reposition himself amongst the nest he made out of Fabian’s things. These Sleep gummies were good. So good. They somehow managed to temporarily mute his ever-running-a-mile-a-minute brain long enough for the want of sleep to overtake his racing thoughts.

Smothering any wonder of why everything got so hot all of a sudden. Or why he could hear muffled shouts, cheers, and jeers all around him when he was in Fabian’s room. Those didn’t matter.

Not when he could instead burrow into and wrap himself in Fabian’s letterman jacket that smelled just like him. Sea salt, cedar, and cinnamon. Riz took a deep breath of them, ignoring any of the other strange, exotic smells that seeped in from the outside world. The last thing he thought of before he slipped back under was Fabian holding him tight. Feeling safer than ever in his arms and wanting only to stay in them forever.

Filled with a renewed purpose and determination, he texted Gorgug. Informing that he’d swing by his place to drop his bag and pick up Blaze’s before he started gearing up for an impromptu solo mission.

Frandrangour rested in its holster just above where he wrapped his battlesheet around his hips. Tying it off so some of the sheet still hung from the knot. He may not be a pirate like his Papa, but he’d sooner die than give up their aesthetic.

And for his clothes, he’d remembered enough from his Planar Geography class that temperatures in the City of Brass tended to be pretty hot. Staying between a breezy fifty degrees Celsius and wanting to rip your own skin off. So, he opted for the loosest white tank top with the lowest cut sides he could find in his closet and a pair of deep turquoise and orange harem pants. The Plane of Fire wasn’t going to catch him slipping. Climate or fashion-wise.

Ready as he was ever going to be, he did a quick Fantasy Google search for the closest portal to the Plane of Fire as he raced down to the Manor’s garage. More specifically looking for one that would get him as close to the City of Brass as possible. And by the time he was settling onto The Hangman’s leather seat, he’d found one near a place didn’t expect.

The Elmville Firehouse.

At first, it seemed a bit counterintuitive to him, you know? Surely whoever decided where to place the Fire Department there knew there was a portal to the place where Fire was born, right? But, after a moment’s thought, it kind of weirdly made sense. Who else would you want to fight any invading fire elemental than the people with gallons of water and a huge hose to spray it? Also, seeing as it sounded similar enough to what he remembered Blaze talking about, he decided to take the risk.

After doing a backpack swap with Gorgug, who thankfully didn’t ask too many questions about where he was going to find Blaze, Fabian was off to the Firehouse. Urging The Hangman ever faster as they sped through the streets of Elmville. Not that his trusty steed needed much encouragement to hit his top speed.

Skidding to a stop in front of the huge, brick building, he asked only for The Hangman to wait at home for him. Getting a reluctant okay, he rushed inside the station to ask exactly where the portal was. The firefighters were nice enough. They’d looked a bit skeptical at first as he explained that he needed to save his boyfriend from waking up scared and confused in the City of Brass. But showing them his Aguefort school ID and having Fandrangour on his hip helped them believe that they weren’t sending him to his fiery death.

“Gettin’ all kinds of adventurers today,” A half-orchish man named Kark said in a gravelly grumble as he led Fabian around to the back of the firehouse. Stopping in front of a back shed with an arcane padlock, he began flipping through a ring of runed keys that he had on his belt.

“Really?” Fabian asked.

“Yeah, two Fire Genasi boys went through about an hour and a half ago.” Kark answered absent-mindedly, humming a tune Fabian didn’t recognize under his breath until—“Hah! Here it is.”—He took hold of a key that looked almost identical to the rest, in Fabian’s opinion. But he said it was it, then it was it. Kark slotted the key into the padlock’s hole, a small arcane hum vibrating out once he unlocked it, and then he opened the door. A blast of heat hit their faces as the portal to the City of Brass was revealed. A whirling vortex of pure magic, tinted orange, red, and gold, hung like a tear in the fabric of space before them. Kark took a step back, grimacing at it as he asked, “You sure about this, kid?”

Fabian chuckled and smiled up at Kark, a brick house of a man who regularly ran into burning buildings, yet was still weary of what lay ahead of them. “I am. I’m an adventurer. It’s what we do.”

With one last wink at Kark and a deep breath, Fabian walked through the swirling, roiling portal.

Coming out of essentially a crack in a red stone wall, the heat hit him first. As solid and unyielding as the wall he’d just stepped out of. Instantly the immense heat sent beads of sweat down his forehead and left him a bit agitated and antsy to leave this Plane as soon as possible.

It was so distracting that he almost got run over by a merchant’s hurrying wagon. Fortunately, he rolled well on his Dexterity saving throw to jump out of the way at the last second. His back pressed up against the red stone, Fabian pushed his irritation with the city’s climate and tried to gain his bearings.

The street he just stepped into was choked with people. Hustling and bustling with throngs of folks of all kinds on foot and in wagons (or pulling them? Umberlee below.). All making their way back and forth. Either deeper into the city or toward a giant golden gate set in the black obsidian wall that encircled the entire metropolis. The tall buildings that surrounded him were carved with intricate designs. Topped off with spiralling towers. Colourful banners of red, orange yellow hung out of windows and from brassy poles with what looked like the emblem of a noble house.

What little breeze there was brought with the smell of a plethora of spices Fabian had never encountered before. He could practically taste them on his tongue with how strong they were. Shouts of a language he knew but a dialect he didn’t also were carried on the wind. Though his father keeping that tornado on as a crew member had done wonders for his knowledge of Primordial, the differences between Auran and Ignan were significant. Enough that he was worried that he might misinterpret something if he tried his hand at Ignan. Best to stick to Common then.

Pushing himself off of the wall, Fabian began to search the surrounding streets for anyone who might’ve noticed the Evermore brothers heading in a certain direction. As busy as this place was, it didn’t seem like there were a lot of people that stayed put longer than a couple of minutes. Nobody except for a beautiful Fire Genasi woman wearing hardly anything at all posted up in front of the entrance of “First Flames”. A building that just screamed ‘House of Pleasure’ not unlike the Gold Gardens back on Leviathan.

Long, fiery hair, decorated with gold and brass charms and hairpins, fell around the greeter’s sweet, round face. Waving at passersby, asking if they wanted a cool drink and some hot company.

“Hello, handsome. Name’s Cinder,” She said to Fabian once he landed in her sights. Her voice was nice and sultry as she waved him closer. “You look like you’re searching for someone.”

“I am actually,” Fabian answered with a queasy smile as he cautiously approached but tried to keep a respectful distance away. “But I don’t think he’ll be in there.”

Cinder practically cooed at him, probably mistaking his discomfort for general shyness. Her slim, ruby fingers wrapped around his to urge him closer to her and the bedecked double-door entrance. Resting a forearm on his shoulder, she made a sweeping motion with the other toward First Flames and said, “Oh, sweetie, that’s not a problem. We have this charming lad named Smoulder and he would be more than happy to make your day.”

Following her motion, he could see inside of First Flames and it didn’t look unappealing. Lush and plush and filled with beautiful, scantily clad people strutting around and draping themselves over customers. Fabian couldn’t help but skin up his nose at it. Maybe he would’ve enjoyed this place before, but now, all he wanted was Riz.

“That is a lovely offer but I’m not interested in… companionship today. I’m afraid I’m taken.” Fabian said as politely as he could and stepped out from under Cinder’s arm.

Taken aback for a moment, Cinder then let out a sigh. Placing her hands on her hips, she shook her head and laughed. “Of course you are. Anything I can help you with before you leave us for good?”

Hmm, well, she was one of the only people he’d seen so far who could’ve stayed put long enough to notice the Evermore brothers pass by…

Worth a shot.

“Is there a chance you saw two Fire Genasi guys who looked out of place walk through here about an hour and a half ago?”

It took Cinder a moment, her stained lips pursed and fine brows furrowed in thought before her face and hair brightened in remembrance. “Indeed I did! They asked for directions to The Pyre.” Fabian’s confusion must’ve shown on his face because she quickly added, “It’s a pit fighting ring. Down in the Rookery.”

“Right. And that would be…?” Fabian said. Drawing out the syllables of every word and arching a questioning brow until Cinder burst out into full-hearted laughter. Through her giggles and titters, she managed to tell him the route he needed to take to get there as quickly as possible. Though she did warn him to stay on his guard. This city wasn’t a forgiving one. Yeah, he knew a thing or two about cities like that. With one last thanks to Cinder again for her help, Fabian set off deeper into the city to find The Pyre.

Easier said than done, of course.

The City of Brass didn’t seem to have an urban planning committee that cared about easy navigation and wayfinding for newcomers. Tight and crowded streets would bend and twist and (he swore on his life) would curve back around. He’d end up in a different district than the one he was in seconds ago with little warning. And it’s not like the locals were exactly hospitable. He almost got his head chopped off for asking for directions, on two separate occasions. And he barely managed to escape the wrath and chains of a noble-looking Efreeti he accidentally bumped into.

Luckily after two hours of searching, he turned a corner and stumbled upon the place Cinder had described for him. It won’t look like much, she’d said and she wasn’t wrong. Situated in the crook of two side streets, a beefy Efreeti man guarded what was essentially a hole in the wall covered by a flimsy-looking dark wood door. No signs or any distinguishing features to be seen. Yet, all the same, a couple of well-dressed Tieflings strode up to the bouncer and discreetly handed him their tickets. And after a moment of inspecting the little pieces of cut brass, he let them in.

That’s another problem. He doesn’t have a ticket.

Crouched behind an alleyway with a view of the Pyre’s entrance, he’d searched through Blaze’s backpack. Looking for any sign of a similar cut piece of brass that he assumed was engraved in some way, but he came up with nothing. For a moment, he weighed the possibility of it maybe being a pay-at-the-door situation. But that train of thought was swiftly derailed as he watched the bouncer toss a man out into the busy street for even asking.

Shit.

Fully sat on the ground now, Fabian let his head loll back and hit the hard stone wall behind him. The oppressive weight of the heat of this place bore down on him. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and wiped the dripping sweat out of his face. There had to be something he could do. He’d come this far. And Riz was somewhere in that place. So close yet somehow miles and miles away.

Okay, okay. He can’t get in without a ticket… and if Blaze’s smug boasting in the locker room was any indication, they were pretty hard to get. So he couldn’t go around asking where to acquire them. Not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulders. But that would mean he needed to get in without a ticket. How could he get in there without a ticket? Ugh, if Riz were in his position, he’d make a stupidly high investigation check for a backdoor. But Fabian had a sinking feeling if he were to try the same, he’d end up walking around the same block for hours on end. No, that wouldn’t do at all.

As Fabian sat in agonizing contemplation, the Pyre’s door opened up enough for whoever was on the other side to speak to the bouncer. A high, nasally voice asked, “Is he here yet?”

To which the bouncer only grunted and shook his head.

“That idiot. He’s supposed to be in the ring in ten minutes.” The voice said, his tone dripping in barely concealed aggravation. “If he does come tell him to get his ass into the pit ASAP. Got me?”

Another grunt, but this time with a nod instead before the Pyre’s door shut once more. Leaving the side street quiet and Fabian’s mind with an idea. He was asking the wrong question. It’s not how could he get in there without a ticket. It’s who could get in there without a ticket. Though he left the subclass behind when he became a Battle Master, it looked like the Pyre was about to get a new champion.

Jumping to his feet, he adjusted his father’s eyepatch, squared his shoulders, and lifted his chin. He marched up to the towering bouncer with the same confidence he had on his first day of school. Staring up at his eight-foot-tall form, Fabian smiled and said, “I heard this ring needed a challenger on short notice. And I just so happen to be aching for a good fight.”

Flame-filled eyes, hard and blazing, looked him up and down. The bouncer’s strong nose wrinkled in a glare at him. His gaze lifted from Fabian to behind him as he probably searched for whoever was supposed to be there. Must’ve come up empty. Since, in the end, he rolled his eyes and let out a huff of smoke from his nose as he opened the door for Fabian. And with a voice deep and rumbly like smouldering coals, the bouncer called out into the dark and hazy doorway, “Naflia. He’s here.”

“Finally!” Came the high-pitched nasally voice again. Soon accompanied by a relieved, swarthy face wreathed in a mane of fire and a short, stout frame clothed in fine brass garments. This Azer woman’s face turned surly, though, once she got a good look at Fabian. “Where the fuck have you—Jubi who the fuck is this?”

Settling a wrist Frandrangour’s pummel and a hand on his chest, Fabian went to introduce himself, “I’m—”

But Naflia cut him off, tired and gruff as she said, “Actually I don’t care. Can you fight?”

“Yes, I—”

“Perfect come with me.” She said and without another look, Naflia took him by the hand and dragged him into the building.

Leading down into a tight, spiralling stone staircase lit only by torches. Their hurried steps echoed off the walls as they went. Until they reached the bottom and came to a sitting area for guests. It was lit by blue flamed lanterns and filled with seat cushions and low-lying tables filled with goblets, plates, and candles. But Fabian didn’t have time to admire any of the furniture or the guests.

No, Naflia, surprisingly as strong as she is, yanked on his arm to get him moving again. Away from the plush niceties reserved for paying customers and into an employees-only backroom. One that led to a stone chamber filled with benches and rough, rugged fighters. All of them had harsh scars and mean mugs, scowling at him as he passed by. Fabian’s pretty sure he saw one of them laid out flat, covered in bruises and blood, hopefully just unconscious.

“What kind of establishment do you run here, Miss?” Fabian asked frantically as he brought him into a dead-end tunnel and placed him on a square platform.

Stepping back, Nafila grinned and gave him a shrug. “It’s pit fighting, kid. What did you expect? Flowers and roses?”

“A healer on deck,” Fabian answered with a grimace.

“Bah! You’ll be fine. Just don’t die. It’s bad for morale.” She said with a wide wave of her hands. Just as a tiny mote of fire flew in from around a corner, flying into her ear with purpose. Naflia squinted and tilted her head as if being quietly spoken to before she looked back up at him with a grin. “Alright, kid. You’re on in a minute.”

“A minute! Don’t I have to sign something? A waiver perhaps?” He frantically asked with a crack in his voice. Oh, he so didn’t think this plan through. He thought that he’d have enough time to scope the place out before having to fight. But apparently, Naflia didn’t care to get him acquainted with anything. Probably more fun for her. “Don’t you want my name, at least, before you throw me to the wolves?”

“No wolves. Just some punk Firenewt with anger issues. What’s your name?”

“Fabian Seacaster.”

Naflia arched a fiery brow at him. “Huh. If you say so.” She said as she reached behind her to a large brass lever in the wall and yanked it downwards. “Was just going to call you Wh’tila.”

“What does that mean?”

“Pretty boy.”

Hmm.

He didn’t hate that. Not at all.

“That works.” He said as the platform beneath his feet started to shift and rumble as it began to lift him into the air. The sound of huge gears cranking and turning filled his ears as the ceiling above him parted. Slowly but surely, he was raised into a circular arena. With stone walls that raised maybe a hundred feet over his head and were lined by metal railings. Lit by torches hung in elaborate sconces. And just beyond the railing were rows and rows of stands filled to the brim with people screaming their heads off.

The last thing he heard before the roaring audience drowned her out, was Nafila as she said, “Best of luck, Wh’tila. Remember, put on a good show but. Don’t. Die.”

Soon enough, she was gone from his sight as the platform froze in its final lifted position. Letting out a mechanical hiss as it did so. He faintly heard a similar noise about fifty feet away. Pulling his gaze away from the crowd all around him, he looked out across the arena filled with fire pits and racks of weapons to find his opponent.

Orange skin mottled with veins of gold and deep crimson reptilian eyes, the Firenewt opposite Fabian stood ready and raring to go. His fists were wrapped in gauze and he had a huge slashing scar that ran across his chest. There was this strange calmness that came off of him in waves that unsettled Fabian a bit. A sinking feeling grew in his gut that he was about to get his shit rocked by a monk for the second time today.

As he tried to remember the tips Ms. Jones had given him about fighting monks this afternoon, Naflia’s disembodied voice filled the arena. “Ladies and gentlemen! I assure you our next two fighters are about to give you the show of your lives.” At the sound of her voice and the feeling that it was truly go-time now, Fabian began to untie and unwrap his battle sheet from his waist. “The Swift Inferno, a returning champ faces off with fresh-blood fighter, Wh’tila! It’s sure to be a fight for the ages folks. Which one of these young men will come out on top? We’re about to find out in three, two, one.” As she counted down, Naflia’s last words to him rang in his head like a tolling bell. “BEGIN!”

Don’t Die.

Now, Fabian didn’t have any monk friends, so he didn’t feel bad about voicing his opinion of their range of movement.

It was fucking stupid.

Stupid and bullshit and should count as cheating.

To say that The Swift Inferno lived up to his name would be an understatement. And if you said it in front of Fabian he’d shoot you a death glare that rivaled a Sea Hag’s. Because that cute little comment didn’t help him dodge the bastard’s flurry of blows or escape his steps of the wind! Swift’s attacks just didn’t stop coming. So much so that Fabian couldn’t find an opening to strike. He just kept pushing him back and back until he hit the arena’s wall, which worked out in his favour.

As he evaded another one of Swift’s punches, both he and Fabian realized in the same second that he’d accidentally over-extended his arm. Sending it slamming into the rough, uneven stone just beside Fabian’s head. And in the moment before Swift could wince and pull his fist back, Fabian grabbed it. Keeping it where it was and leaving the entire lower half of Swift’s elongated, salamander-esque body open for him to pierce with Fandrangour.

Pulling his blade out of Swift’s abdomen with a flourish, he shoved the Firenewt away from him to give himself some room to work. Swift stumbled back, clutching his now bleeding side. Blood covered his hand wraps. Staining them red. Looking back up at him, Swift snarled.

Fabian smirked as he took a more offensive and showy stance. He arched an eyebrow and asked, “Shall we?”

Swift spat at his feet and sneered out, “Fuckin’ priss.”

“I believe it’s pronounced Wha-till-ah. But what do I know? En guarde!”

Their fight raged on. Fabian, on an upswing, managed to land a few more hits on Swfit. While Swfit tried his best to stun him as often as he could. He only succeeded once, but man oh man was that hard to come back from. Especially since one of Swift’s roundabout kicks sent Fabian crashing to the ground about half a foot away from an open fire pit.

As Swift leapt on him and pressed his face closer to the burning coals, he heard a voice call out from above. “What are you doing here, Cap?!”

Chancing a glance away from his opponent, Fabian followed the voice up into the crowd to see Blaze. Practically falling out of the stands as he leaned over the guardrail to wave at him. Yes! Yes! Blaze was here. He just needed not to die and he could get Riz back!

From within Swift’s hold on him and between the flurry of fists, Fabian yelled as loud as he could, hoping that Blaze could hear him. “Switched! Bags! The Ball! In! Mine! Ugh, one second!”

Reaching down into himself, to the pool of energy in his center that he always pulled from, he pulled from it once more. A tiny current of wind swept up from the ground and swirled around him as he gained his Second Wind. Curling up both of his feet to aim for Swift’s stomach and, using his newfound stamina, booted Swift off from on top of him. Fabian knew he’d be back on his feet soon enough, but he didn’t mind. The effects of the spell he was about to cast would look better if he was standing up anyway.

Nafila did tell him to put on a show.

“Had enough?” He asked as he watched as Swift staggered to his feet, swaying. But he was still standing. Not for long, though.

“You wish.”

Swift descended upon him once again. With flaming fists of fury, spending all of the ki he had left trying to pummel Fabian into the ground, he did his best to withstand his attacks. Taking blow after blow until his moment came. A split second when Swift left his chest open.

“Looks like my lucky day then,” Fabian smiled wide and cocked his fist back, wreathed in a helix of wind, as a low rumble of a distant stormcloud hummed. He directed it straight into the middle of Swift’s chest as he shouted, “Have a nice flight!“, in Auran. Casting Thunderwave.

BOOM!

A tide of pure stormy rage surged out from where Fabian’s fist connected with Swift’s flesh and swept him off of his feet. Sending him flying back ten feet as a thunderous boom filled The Pyre. So powerful and cacophonous that once the ringing in his ears stopped, he thought he’d deafened himself because the whole arena went silent. His pants were so loud in his ears. Chest heaving, he looked out into the stunned crowd before searching for The Swift Inferno. Finding him flung against the curved stone wall, unconscious.

Hold on… Hold on!

Fabian spun around to where he found Blaze in the crowd to lock eyes with him just to double check what he thought was happening was happening. Blaze, with his square jaw and freckled, ruddy face, beamed down at him as he threw his arms into the air. Letting out a whoop, “Let’s go, Cap! HOOT! GROWL!”, and started a chain reaction of cheers and chants as the rest of the crowd erupted.

Instinctively, Fabian whispered underneath his ragged breath, “Hoot growl.”

He’d won.

Holy shit, he’d won!

Oh, how he wished Riz was awake to see this.

The sound of a thunderstorm directly over his head was enough to rip Riz out of the inky void of sleep and back into the real world.

At first, he thought he imagined the sound of thunder crashing. Since, in the first seconds following it, everything around him went quiet. But then a jockish voice above him started yelling a familiar chant and soon an entire audience was joining him in cheering. Leaving Riz to quickly cover his sensitive ears and wonder just what the fuck was going on.

The Owlbears didn’t have a game today, did they? There’s simply no way. He’d marked them all down in his calendar app on his crystal so that he’d miss getting to watch Fabian in his element as Captain of the Bloodrush team.

Mind still groggy from the Sleep gummies, Riz tried to wrap his head around where he was when an abnormally loud voice spoke over the din. “Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like we have a winner! Give it up for Wh’tilla!”

A winner?

Wh’tilla?

Who the fuck was Wh’tilla and why did they not sound like a high school Bloodrush team he’s ever heard of?

Okay, that’s it!

Riz practically ripped his way out of Fabian’s backpack. Claws digging and scratching into the sturdy canvas until he could find a hole in the zipper and claw his way out. Instantly, as he popped his head out, he almost wished he didn’t. Because all at once he realized that he was in a place that was unbearably loud, chokingly hot, and definitely nowhere near Elmville. Sitting in a crowd of hundreds of rowdy people of all kinds, with a quick look around he concluded that he was in an underground arena of some kind. Most likely illegal, but never mind that. None of it explained why he wasn’t in Fabian’s room right now.

“Oh! That’s why Cap’s here!”

Huh. That sounds more useful to him.

Whipping his head around to look at the person who was holding Fabian’s bag on his lap, Riz looked up at the young, Fire Genasi’s face. It was familiar, that was for certain. Someone he’d never talked to but saw often enough for them not to be a complete stranger. He must be on the Bloodrush team. The strong jaw and bulky shoulders were a dead giveaway. His name? Oh, by the Gods, it was Flames or something. No, Blaze! Blaze Evermore! Fabian had called him a line-back-thingy when he’d tried to explain Bloodrush to him once. Yes, okay. But why did he have Fabian’s backpack?

“Hey, Blaze. Uh, what’s up? Man.” Riz said more awkwardly than he would’ve liked. He just didn’t know how to talk to Fabian’s Bloodrush teammates. Were they and Riz friends-in-law? Would they treat him differently if Fabian wasn’t in the room with them when they hung out? So many questions and no time to answer them.

Thankfully, Blaze just shrugged and nodded his head in the direction of the arena’s pit. “Nothin’ much. Just watchin’ Fabian kick ass.”

“Huh?” Riz turned to inspect the pit again and what he saw made him gasp.

Fabian stood with a black eye, blood running from his nose, and his arms spread wide in triumph as he soaked up the audience’s cheers. Giving them dramatic, ballerina-esque bows with a big smile on his face. But that wasn’t the part that got Riz’s heart racing.

No, that was reserved for something that no one else seemed to notice, not even Fabian. Behind him, about ten feet back, what seemed to be his defeated opponent, a heavily injured Firenewt stirred. Achingly slowly, he got up. Raising himself onto his arms, Riz saw the seething look he was shooting Fabian. Daggers into the back of his unsuspecting head. And almost imperceptibly, smoke began to pour out of his slitted nostrils as his jowl began to expand. A fact from his studies of inner planar creatures shot into Riz’s head.

Firenewts can spit fire.

They can spit fire at anyone within ten feet of it.

Riz was moving before his thoughts could get any further. Though they did. How could they not?

Could Fabian have enough hit points to withstand a blast of fire to his back? Maybe. But with how punchdrunk he looked, Riz wouldn’t bet money on it let alone Fabian’s life.

With all of his eight strength, he pushed his way through the crowd.

Sure, what damage it would do to him probably wouldn’t kill him, either. However, Riz doubted that anyone would get into the ring before that Firenewt rained down blows on Fabian’s unconscious form. By the time they pulled him off of Fabian, he’d be dead.

Despite the shouts for him to stop, Riz bounded up the metal railing and leaped off of it. Shocked gasps rang out behind him, but paid them no mind. He only smirked as, once he began to fall, spectral angel wings appeared on his back.

He’d thought that wearing this vest would be overkill for this afternoon’s sparring class, but, like always, his father was right. It always pays to be prepared. He was happy about all those gasps though. They were an excellent way to pull Fabian’s attention away from gloating and towards him.

“Riz!” Fabian shouted, his voice somehow loud enough to hear over all of the noise. The single step Fabian made toward him as his smile turned all soft and fond once his eye locked onto him wasn’t going to be enough to avoid the fire.

Maneuvering on his temporary wings, Riz tried to make himself fall faster while still keeping course towards Fabian. All the while he unfurled a multi-coloured braided length of rope, entwined with the help of all the Bad Kids last summer, from his belt. He’d yet to ever cast Rope Trick properly before, but if there was ever a time to do it, it’d be now.

In the split second before the Firenewt opened his mouth, Riz tossed the rope up into the air. He felt it catch on an extradimensional space and dove to grab Fabian’s awaiting hand. Then as Fabian's larger hand wrapped around his, he yanked as hard as he could on the rope to pull them up. Riz's muscles screamed at him as he held on to all of Fabian’s weight as they were both snatched up and into the hideaway he created.

“The Ball, what the—” Before Fabian could whip himself up into a bluster, Riz took his face into his hands as gently as he could and pointed it downwards. Letting him see through the window down into the pit as the Firenewt belched fire exactly where he was standing. Fabian’s eye went wide. “—Oh.” Meeting Riz’s know-it-all gaze, Fabian blushed before he put a hand on his chest and another against his forehead and said, “My hero.”

“Damn, right,” Riz said with a nod, ignoring how hot his cheeks felt. “What are we even doing here? Since when do you pit fight?”

Fabian groaned. Letting himself flop back into a sprawl on the floor of the Rope Trick as he explained himself. “Ugh, I didn’t mean to be here. Blaze, Gorgug, and I swapped bags accidentally. I got Gorgug’s, Gorgug got Blaze’s, and Blaze got-”

“Yours.” Riz interrupted, his mind still whirling a mile a minute. Peering down at the pit below, another question popped to the forefront of his head. “Where are we?”

“The City of Brass,” Fabian answered, barely lifting his head to do so.

“What?” Riz reared back before pressing his face to the glass of the Rope Trick’s window to the outside world. Only now, with this bird’s eye view did he notice the abundance of Fire Genasi, Azers, and other fireborn or touched creatures in attendance. No wonder it was so fucking hot! That’s the capital of the Plane of Fire for you. Wait. If he was brought here accidentally by Blaze that must mean—oh. Riz looked up from his snooping to crawl over to Fabian’s prone form. Peering over his head, Fabian’s lone silver eye opening as he did, Riz softly asked, “Did you go interplanar just to come find me?”

Fabian shrugged with an amount of adoration on his face that made Riz feel like he was about to throw up.

“I’d go to the ends of the multiverse to find you.” He said, simply. Almost nonchalantly. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Oh, Riz just couldn’t take it. Slapping his hands against his face, he fell back as well and curled into a ball. Fabian’s soft chuckles didn’t help. Especially not when he also pulled Riz over to him and wrapped him up in his arms. “What? Too mushy for you?” Riz could only nod, too overwhelmed with such big feelings. “Like you wouldn’t do the same.”

Of course, he would.

In a heartbeat.

He’d venture across the multiverse and back twice if that’s what it took to find him.

The two of them stayed just like that for a few long moments. Content to stay in this embrace for maybe the rest of eternity… Well, that’s a bit much. This spell wouldn’t even have an eternity. Maybe another fifty minutes. Tops.

If it weren’t for the stray glance Riz made downwards, they probably would’ve. But now that he felt like he could speak again, he couldn’t help but comment on the Firenewt below them. And how he was frantically punching the air around where he’d swept Fabian up from. “Huh, looks like your opponent is a bit confused.”

“I’m sure he is.” A beat. “Think I can drop down on him and knock him out?”

“Fabian.”

“What? I wanna win.”

Riz rolled his eyes, not immune to Fabian’s puppy dog pout, and said, “On my cue.” Fabian let out a whoop and kissed Riz’s cheek before he scrambled to get into place. “Drop down in three, two, one, now!”

In a fall, complete with twists and summersaults, Fabian soared out of the extradimensional space with flourish and theatrics. Landing on top of the poor Firenewt in an obnoxiously dramatic pose. Riz couldn’t hear anything from within the hideaway, but he knew the crowd must’ve been going nuts. He didn’t want to, but Riz couldn’t stop a fond smile from playing on his lips as he said, “That’s my guy.”

By the Gods, did Riz love him.

Whew!! There you go! I hope you liked it, Anon! Another one ticked off the bingo board!

Send me a prompt and help me get a bingo!

#fabian seacaster #riz gukgak #fabriz #fanfic #fantasy high #fic bingo #prompt bingo #this one is a doozy but so good!!#it's also the fic i was talking about when i said i needed to change an ending now that riz knows magic!

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oh-austin · 2 years

Text

mistaken (austin butler)

summary: in which austin brings ines to set and shes a little confused to see her dad kissing someone who isn't her mom

ask: reader x dad!austin - the reader brings their daughter (a baby) to set and everyone is happy to see her but when they start filming their daughter sees austin and olivia kiss which confuses her so she starts calling olivia mommy. angst.

authors note/warning: no warnings! my first angsty kind of piece ahh, hopefully it's not crap- because im a fluff girl through and through tbh. part four of going method will be out soon my loves!!

────── ∘◦❀◦∘

Bringing a 14 month old to set wasn’t necessarily a bad idea. Everyone loved Ines. She was a smiley baby, who slept through the night at 7 months and was happy to be held by anyone when in a good mood.

Ines was a little confused at first when seeing her daddy all dressed up in costume, but she soon realised it was him when looking into his blue eyes- ones that matched hers exactly.

Ines soon became a regular on set, babbling whilst Baz spoke to her daddy, loved being held by Tom and had taken a special liking to Olivia. All of the cast did enjoy having her around.

Since you got pregnant within the first month and a half of filming, everyone felt like a special part of Ines’ life. They were there when you went into labour, when Austin would freak out if you weren’t sitting down after hitting your 36 week mark. They saw it all.

Now with filming almost at an end, Ines was growing faster than the cast and crew liked to see.

Today they were filming Priscilla's first scene. Olivia had unruly curly clip-on bangs and Austin was looking very official in Elvis' army suit. Ines was on your lap as you sat in Austin's chair, his name on the back of it. Baz spoke with the producers as Austin was getting ready to shoot the scene.

You always made sure Ines had her pacifier in whilst they were shooting, a guaranteed way of having no baby noises in the back of the scene. If she ever fussed, you were very quick to leave the sound stage. Ines was very well-behaved though- Austin said she was very good at reading the room and that she knew she had to be quiet.

"Ready to watch Daddy, huh?" You whispered to Ines. Austin was getting last minute makeup done as you looked over to him.

"Dada," Ines pointed over at Austin, a smile on her face.

"Yeah, Nezzie say hi dada?" You showed her how to wave over at Austin, she replicated your gesture.

"Dada!" She called. Austin's eyes looked up and met his daughters.

"Hi my girl," Austin came over from the sound stage to come see you both, "You're getting so big," Austin picked Ines up from your lap. "Gotta stop growing for dad, yeah?"

Ines went to go touch one of the badges on Austin's suit jacket, "Nezzie, no," Austin said softly, shaking his head at her. Ines looked up at him with her big blue eyes, "No touch," Ines nodded, putting her finger back in her mouth. "Good girl," Austin held her close to his chest before placing a kiss on her head.

Baz called out for Austin to come back to the soundstage. "Daddy's gotta go," Austin gave Ines another kiss before handing her back to you. Austin kissed your cheek quickly before heading back ready to shoot the scene.

"Ready Nez?" You kissed her cheek a few times as you bounced her on your knee. Baz called for everyone to be quiet on set, as you popped Ines' pacifier in her mouth.

"Action!" He yelled.

"And then he said to me," Olivia began, taking a deep breath before speaking again, “You know what, Priscilla?" She changed her voice and made it deeper and more gruff. "You gotta listen to me, sweetie, because this guy, he’s got girls all over the world, okay?"

You watched as Olivia and Austin moved around one another, performing the scene that you had read with Austin multiple times before. They were doing great. You and Ines were relatively close to the soundstage so you could see everything that was happening.

The scene finished with Austin and Olivia kissing on the fake windowsill, Baz called cut. Austin came over to get his water from you in between takes, Olivia followed him.

"Oh my gosh, Nezzie! Look out big you're getting," Olivia crouched down in front of you and your daughter. You were very lucky to be so welcomed on set, Olivia often offering to babysit Ines for you both.

"Mama!" Ines shouted, reaching her arms out to Olivia. Your heart dropped a little and Austin stopped rubbing circles on your hand.

"Oh no, baby," Olivia shook her head with a smile, "That's mama," Olivia pointed up to you.

"Mama!" Ines shouted in what seemed to be protest. Austin sighed picking her up.

"She's probably confused," Austin bounced her up and down. You knew that he could tell it had upset you. At the start of your relationship, you had reservations about dating an actor- someone who would be kissing other people as a part of their job. However, overtime you came to adjust.

But now your own daughter was calling someone else her Mom, because she had seen your husband kissing her. "Sees us kiss and then watches the scene, she's just a little take back, hey Nez?" Austin kissed her cheek. "Look at mama," Austin pointed to you. Her eyes followed her dad's finger, but then Ines looked back to Olivia and you felt like crying.

Austin wanted to stay around and comfort you, talk you through how you were feeling, but Baz called him and Olivia back for another take. Austin whispered a soft apology when he had to hand Ines back to you. You heard mutters of Olivia apologising to him, but you knew it wasn't her fault.

You snuck out during that take, heading back to the trailer with Ines. When Olivia realised after the next take that you had left, she felt even worse than before- but Austin assured her that you probably went to feed her. He knew that you hadn't.

You sat in Austin's trailer, trying to shush Ines to sleep for her nap. Soon, she was out and it was just you in there all alone with your thoughts. It wasn't anybodies fault that Ines was confused, she's only a baby. That's what you tried to tell yourself anyway. It wasn't hard to let negative thoughts penetrate your mind.

"Y/N?" You heard Austin's voice from outside the trailer around thirty minutes later, "Baby? I'm gonna come in, okay?" You didn't respond. Austin felt so guilty seeing you sit with small traces of tears glistening over your eyes.

"Hey," You whispered to him. He sighed before coming to sit next to you and a sleeping Ines.

"You know she knows that you're her mom, right?" Austin was still in his cadet outfit, his hair perfectly slicked back. You were about to open your mouth in protest, "No-" Austin stopped you- "She does," He whispered. "Baby, she's just one year old, like freshly one," He chuckled, "She only knows three words!"

"I know, it just-" You sighed- "It really sucked," You looked down at your daughter, who was a carbon copy of Austin. His blonde curls and blue sparkly eyes were all him, but he claimed she looked so much like you- you could never see it.

"I know baby, but she's not used to seeing her daddy kiss people other than her mommy, you know that" He grabbed your hand as you held Ines. You nodded, meeting his eyes. "The other day, she called Tom dad!" He told you with a wide grin, "Funniest thing I've ever seen," Austin recalled, "She's just little, but she knows that we're her mom and dad,"

You closed your eyes for a moment, relishing in the peace between the three of you. "She called Tom dad?" You asked from your spot against Austin's shoulder.

"Well it was more like 'dah', but close enough," He kissed your head with a smile. "She knows that you're her mom, yeah?"

"Yeah," You let out a deep breath that sat on your chest, "She does. Thank you," You looked up at your husband.

"Always," He smiled down at you. You were very lucky to be Ines' mom, just as lucky as you were to be Austin's wife.

#austin butler imagine #austin butler #austin butler one shot #elvis 2022 #austin butler drabble #austin butler x reader #austin butler fluff #dad!austin #celeste writes fics

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venus-haze · 2 years

Text

The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter - Prequel (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: There was no way you could have seen it coming…right? Or four instances where you could have noticed Elvis blurring the boundaries of personal and professional.

Note: This is based on an anonymous request, and as of right now will be the last thing I plan to write for The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter, because there’s other requests and series I’d like to focus on writing. I appreciate everyone’s support for the series, and hope you all like it! Please consider the warnings before deciding whether or not you want to read this fic. Do not interact with my blog or posts if you are under 18 or post ED/thinspo content.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: This is a yandere fic, so expect dark themes such as emotional blackmail, obsessive and manipulative behavior, and abuse of power, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. Mentions of drug abuse. Kathy makes a brief appearance and I know y’all do not like her so I guess I’m including her as a warning. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Graceland, 1968

Being Elvis Presley’s personal assistant hardly felt like a job, if you were being honest with yourself. Something was always happening, and you never found yourself bored even in your downtime with all of the friends and relatives rotating in and out of Graceland at all hours of the day. It seemed like every day you were introduced to someone new—a friend of a friend from high school, an old army buddy, a cousin from Priscilla’s side of the family. You were having so much fun being part of such a chaotic new world that you almost forgot you were being paid until Vernon handed you your first paycheck, almost triple what you’d been making at NBC.

You were still getting the hang of being part of Elvis’ entourage, but you must have been doing something right, because he entrusted you with more tasks and responsibilities as the weeks progressed. Since you’d quit your job at NBC almost as soon as Elvis asked you to work for him, you needed to prove to your skeptical friends and former colleagues that you made the right decision by choosing the King of Rock n’ Roll over one of the biggest television studios in the country. The special wouldn’t be released for another few months, but you knew it’d shut them all up once they saw for themselves what Elvis could do.

Whenever he’d ask for your opinions on his reinventing his career, you still felt a bit of shock that he even bothered to ask, much less seriously take your opinion into account. It helped that whenever Priscilla was around, you and her seemed to agree on a lot of things. There weren’t many women in Elvis’ entourage, so you and her became fast friends, which meant hanging out poolside or having her do your makeup and bring you up to speed on the decade or so of inner circle gossip you hadn’t been aware of. Naturally, your friendship with Priscilla made you feel that much more guilty over the crush on Elvis you’d developed since filming the Comeback Special.

A few weeks into the job, Elvis had asked you to meet him in the living room, where he seemed to do most of his business. People always filtered in and out of the room, but it never seemed to phase him. As the two of you sat on the couch, your gaze landed on the mock-ups of his new private plane the ‘Lisa Marie’ and his plans for his upcoming world tour. That day, however, Priscilla had brought Lisa over to her parents’ place to visit.

“You likin’ things here, Y/N?” Elvis asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Yes! This is the best job I could have hoped for,” you said.

“You’re not just sayin’ that, are ya? I know things can be crazy around here if you’re not used to it.”

“I promise I’m happy,” you said, waving your hand toward the mock-ups. “I mean, who wouldn’t be?”

“A worldwide tour,” Elvis whispered, almost to himself. “You know, I’ve never toured outside the country before.”

“I’ve ever left the country either,” you said. “I’ve already applied for my passport. I’m so excited.”

“Y/N, where do you want to go?” Elvis asked. “Anywhere in the world, where do you think I should play?”

“I think Japan would be fun,” you answered.

He gave you a big smile. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“I know the tour schedule might be tight, but I’d love to be able to do some sightseeing in Tokyo,” you said. “You know, your fan club there is one of the biggest in the world. You should try to meet with them, or the fan club president, at least.”

“Yeah, I get a lot of letters from over there,” he said. “You’re right; it’s the least I could do. I wouldn’t be anything without my fans believing in me. Sometimes I still can’t believe how much people like my music, or liked, I guess.”

“Once your special airs, you’re all anyone will be able to talk about,” you said. “Especially when you announce your international tour.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I know I can trust you to be honest with me.”

“Always,” you promised.

He had another meeting to plan his international tour later on in the afternoon, while you were stuck on the phone stalling with the people from Singer Sewing who were still on Elvis’ back about the special. You’d gotten good at coming up with reasons and excuses for why he couldn’t come to the phone, and no, you wouldn’t be accepting anything from their lawyers. It frustrated you, because the Colonel should be the one taking care of it, but it seemed like Elvis was trying to distance himself from his manager, which meant everyone trying to figure out who’d pick up which responsibilities in the meantime.

The meeting had long since ended by the time you hung up on probably the sixth person from Singer who you’d spoken to. Wandering into the living room, you looked over the notes that had been posted on the touring mock-up board. There was one for each country he planned to hold a show in, Germany, Italy, Brazil, Australia, but you looked most carefully at the one for Japan, which had more written on it than the others. ‘JAPAN - per EP: 3 days minimum, Tokyo show, meet fanclub, sightseeing (?)’

“Did I get it all, darlin’?” Elvis asked, startling you as you hadn’t realized he’d come in.

You turned to him. “I like the question mark next to sightseeing.”

“No questions about it; I’ll be sure we go somewhere nice in Japan.”

“We?” you asked, trying not to let your excitement show.

“Well, if you don’t mind an old man taggin’ along,” he teased.

You laughed. “Old man? You’re not old.”

“C’mon, Y/N, I’d have gray hairs by now if I didn’t dye it,” he said.

“I think you’d look good gray,” you said.

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

He smiled, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, darlin’.”

You couldn’t help how your face heated up at this, bashfully averting your eyes from him. He carefully lifted your head so that you were looking at him again, and you could have sworn he would have kissed you, if not for the front door opening, and little Lisa Marie toddling in. You quickly shifted to the other end of the couch before Priscilla could walk in. Priscilla. Elvis was your boss, and at the very most you were friends, but he wouldn’t do anything like that with his wife around, and certainly not with you of all people, you reasoned to yourself, determined to shake off whatever crush you had on him.

Las Vegas, 1969

Somehow, the Colonel had convinced Elvis to postpone his world tour and take up a temporary residency at the newly built International Hotel in Las Vegas. After the six-weeks of shows, you all would finally be off to see the world. Still, the International was a gorgeous hotel, and you were thrilled when Elvis informed you everyone would be getting their own rooms for the duration of the residency, and to not worry about using room service or any amenities. Sure, the first few nights you went a little wild in the casino and ordered steak and lobster up to your room, but after that, everyone seemed to settle down and focus on bringing the upcoming show together.

All things considered, you figured it made sense for Elvis to test his new show for smaller audiences before bringing it to larger stadiums abroad, especially since the International was covering everything. He could afford to make changes and go as big as he wanted. Electricity was in the air, and you couldn’t get enough of it. The sky wasn’t even the limit with the newly minted ‘Lisa Marie’ ready to fly.

Elvis had asked you to join him in the showroom, as he looked over the stage again and spoke to some of the people who’d be working on the technical aspects of the show. There wasn’t much for you to do, so you wandered around the opulent auditorium, taking in your surroundings. It was the perfect place for Elvis to perform, and with how much Elvis had been talking up the new ideas he had for his show, you couldn’t wait to see it.

“Pretty impressive, huh?” an unfamiliar voice said, as you reached the back of the showroom.

You turned around to look at the man, “Yeah, it’s the biggest on the Strip, right?”

“That’s what they say,” he nodded. “I’m Jake, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You gonna be in the show, or?”

“No,” you laughed. “I’m just Elvis’ assistant.”

“You work with Elvis?” Jake asked incredulously.

“Is that surprising?” you wondered aloud.

He grinned. “I just figured a woman pretty as you would be one of the showgirls or something.”

You giggled at the compliment. It’d been a long time since you’d been flirted with, spending so much time with Elvis’ inner circle and all. Jake’s attention definitely wasn’t unwelcome. He was handsome, with blond hair and eyes that were blue—or were they green? You weren’t close enough to tell. He wore a t-shirt that was definitely a size too small on purpose, because his muscles looked like they were straining against the thin fabric.

“What do you do around here?” you asked.

“Stage lights,” he answered. “I used to bartend at this other hotel, but I got roped doing lights one night when there was no one to fill in for one of my coworkers and–”

Elvis shouted your name, his voice echoing through the showroom. “Y/N!”

“I’m so sorry. I have to go,” you said.

“Don’t want to keep the king waiting,” Jake said, a playful grin on his face. “Why don’t you meet me at the bar later? Say, nine?”

“Nine is perfect,” you smiled.

Elvis yelled for you again, louder this time. You rushed down the stairs to the stage, where he was standing with his hands on his hips. He was frowning, his eyebrows furrowed as he glared in the direction where you had run over from.

When you approached him, he shook his head, clicking his tongue at you. “I don’t pay you to play heart-eyes with stagehands, Y/N.”

Taken aback, you stammered out a response, “I–he just came over to me and–”

“And nothin’!” he snapped. “Both of you should be workin’. I shouldn’t have to call for you twice, especially at a time like this.”

“You’re right. I’m so sorry,” you said.

You were trying not to let it get to you, but Elvis had never been angry with you before. It was the worst feeling you’d ever experienced, a pit forming in your stomach at being the subject of his ire. He’d done so much for you, and now, at a pivotal moment in his career, you were letting yourself get caught up with a stagehand you barely know who said a few flirty things to you. Your eyes stung, and you were sure if he scolded you more, you wouldn’t be able to hold back your tears.

He stared at you silently for a few moments, his hands clenched into fists before he sighed, his expression softening. “I need you more than ever, darlin’. Just try to stay focused, okay?”

You nodded, your voice cracking a bit as you whispered, “Okay.”

Despite Elvis’ best attempts to reassure you throughout the day, you still felt guilty. People kept stopping you to ask if you were okay, and you were embarrassed that you let the small altercation affect you so much. Even when Elvis dismissed you early for the day, you couldn’t bring yourself to follow through with meeting Jake at the bar that night. He’d probably hate you, but you’d rather he hate you than Elvis.

Instead, you called it an early night, waking up far too early the next morning by Vegas standards, but you couldn’t fall back asleep as much as you tried. Feeling cooped up in the luxurious hotel room you were calling home for the time being, you decided to get ready for the day and hang out in the hotel restaurant for a few hours. You grabbed a few fashion magazines and made your way down to the first floor of the hotel. The restaurant was practically empty, and you didn’t have to wait long for your breakfast to be done.

About an hour later, the restaurant started filling up more, and you noticed Jerry walk in. You waved at him, and he walked over to your table, taking the seat across from you.

“Hey Y/N, how’s it going?” he asked.

“I’m alright,” you answered. “How about you?

“Good, I got all that shit with Jake taken care of. What a sick motherfucker.”

“Huh?”

“EP told me all about it, why you were so upset yesterday. I got it worked out with the hotel manager. You won’t have to worry about him anymore,” he said before scoffing. “It’s like these places will hire anyone nowadays.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, despite not having a clue as to what he was talking about. Jake seemed nice, but from your brief encounter with him, you didn’t really know much, but he certainly hadn’t made you upset. You supposed if Elvis found out something bad enough about Jake to have to go to the International’s manager about him, you were better off not worrying about the situation. Besides, like Elvis said, you had your job to focus on, with opening night only a few weeks away.

Denver, 1970

The US tour was busier than you could’ve expected, and you didn’t even want to imagine what the world tour would look like in comparison. It did trouble you that the tour dates were so close together. Elvis didn’t have time to rest and relied on Dr. Nick to shoot him up with whatever he had in his bag to get him to sleep. You knew the Colonel recommended Dr. Nick, but you didn’t trust how he seemed to prescribe Elvis all sorts of pills and potions without a second thought. Besides, what kind of doctor only went by their first name anyway?

Regardless, the American leg of the tour was well-received so far, and you were spending more time with Elvis than ever despite the chaotic schedule. You had been especially excited for the Denver show, since your sister Kathy lived in Boulder. When you mentioned it, Elvis didn’t hesitate to offer you two tickets to the show and the night off to catch up with her before jet-setting to the next city.

You were looking forward to seeing Kathy again, even if it would only be for a few hours. The two of you were close growing up, and though you’d drifted apart as you went to college and settled down in different states, you kept in touch as much as you could. You took a cab from the airport to the restaurant in Denver that Kathy wanted to go to, and practically ran over to her when you saw her waiting outside.

As soon as the two of you were seated, she went ahead and ordered a bottle of wine, and you knew you’d be in for a whirlwind of a dinner.

“So, what’s he like?” Kathy asked, wiggling her eyebrows as soon as the waiter left.

“Who, Elvis? I’ve already told you, he’s nice and funny, and he always seems to care about what I have to say.”

“Not that, I mean in bed.”

You stared at her, dumbfounded. “Why would I know that?”

“You’re telling me you haven’t made a move?” she asked. “From what I’ve heard he fucks anything with a—“

“He’s my boss, Kathy. I don’t think of him like that,” you lied. “It’d be inappropriate, and I couldn’t bring myself to do that to Priscilla even if I were interested.”

“Seriously? Y/N, when you said you dropped your job at NBC like two years ago I figured it was because you and him were sleeping together, and he wanted to keep you around. I mean, why else would you have done it?”

“Because I believe in him, and he’s a good friend, and—what kind of person do you think I am?”

“Okay, I’ll drop it,” she conceded, clearly displeased with your answer.

The rest of the night was nice, but you couldn’t shake the discomfort at what Kathy had said at dinner. You’d made it clear you were Elvis’ personal assistant, but if your own sister assumed you were just there to scratch his itch whenever his wife wasn’t around, you didn’t want to consider what everyone outside of the Memphis Mafia and the backing band and singers thought of you.

The schedule was far too busy for Kathy to meet Elvis, which you were previously apologetic about but had become glad for. You and Elvis were close, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to give you hugs or kiss you on the cheek. He was just a sweet guy, not afraid to be affectionate with the people he cared about; it was something that you loved about him. After shows he would run off with girls sometimes, but he always went out of his way to see you beforehand, just to talk and ironically check on you. The last thing you wanted was for Kathy to misinterpret that.

You and Kathy parted ways after the show, and you half-heartedly promised to call her when you got back to Memphis and fill her in on how the rest of the tour went. You had to book it backstage to catch up with everyone and not miss the plane to the next city. A security guard didn’t seem to believe your all-access pass was authentic, and you found yourself arguing with him.

“Can you just go back there and get someone? They all know me,” you said in exasperation. “I have my pass. I don’t know what else you need.”

“That Colonel guy said people might try to get back here with fake passes.”

“Mine is real!”

The security guard didn’t answer. You felt like you were slamming your head against a brick wall. Even if you did make it outside in time to catch up with everyone making their way to the cars, you weren’t sure you’d be let through now. Just as you were about to try arguing again, one of the doors opened, and Jerry walked out, looking surprised to see you.

“What’re you doing out here? EP keeps asking for you,” Jerry said.

You glared at the security guard, who was emotionless at the confirmation that you weren’t lying after all. Following Jerry backstage, you waited for the door to completely shut behind you.

“He thought my pass was fake,” you said.

“It looks like everyone else’s.”

“Not to him, apparently. He said the Colonel told him that people might make fake passes to get to Elvis.”

Jerry rolled his eyes. “The Colonel’s got some nerve talking about fake paperwork.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it right now, Y/N. Like I said, Elvis has been looking for you,” he said, pointing to where Elvis was standing backstage.

You walked over, and he engulfed you in a sweaty hug.

“Y/N, I’m never lettin’ you take a night off again. Every time I didn’t see you there I felt like my head fell off.”

“I don’t think I’ll need another one for a while.”

“How’d things go with your sister?”

Before you could answer, everyone was being ushered out of the building to the cars that were waiting out back. You ended up in a different car from Elvis, which gave you time to think on the way to the airport, but you knew that it wouldn’t be a long conversation, since Dr. Nick usually gave Elvis whatever medication to help him sleep within ten minutes of him stepping onto the plane.

You followed Elvis to the back of the plane, where you sat across from him. You didn’t want to talk about Kathy or what she said, it would be humiliating. As soon as he sat down, though, he picked the conversation up right where it had left off backstage.

“Alright, Y/N, how’d it go? Y’all catch up? She like the show?” Elvis asked.

“Yeah, she loved it,” you said. “She thought it was amazing.”

“Well that’s good, but you suddenly don’t seem so excited.”

“I just—she said some things that made it seem like I gave her the wrong impression of our relationship. I’m just worried other people might get the wrong idea too,” you confessed.

“Darlin’, you and me both know we ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong. You’re one of the only people I really trust anymore,” he said, placing his hand over yours. “Maybe you should be careful who you talk to from now on. People outside of our circle, they don’t understand what this life is like.”

You smiled. “You’re right. I don’t know why I let her get to me.”

Dr. Nick walked over, and you nearly failed to hide your disdain as he opened his medicine bag. “Wonderful show as usual, Mr. Presley.”

You couldn’t stand to look, let alone be around, when Dr. Nick would inject Elvis with whatever poison he’d chosen for the night. You didn’t know how to bring it up to Elvis, though, but you knew it would catch up with him eventually. Sitting toward the front of the plane, you chewed on your nail, waiting for Dr. Nick to finish up giving Elvis his ‘prescription.’ When the so-called doctor emerged from the back of the plane, you wasted no time in returning to where you had been sitting before to check on Elvis.

“Y/N,” Elvis muttered drowsily, “you’re back.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “Of course I am.”

He hummed. “You mean everything to me. Y/N, I–”

He passed out before he could finish his sentiment, and you took his hand in yours. You couldn’t bring yourself to call it sleeping, did he even dream when he was in that state? Was he lucid enough to feel or hear? You would drive yourself crazy thinking about it, but you mostly didn’t want to admit that you loved Elvis too much to keep seeing him like that, but you couldn’t leave, it’d be the opposite of helping him to abandon him when it seemed like no one else was looking out for him. If no one else was willing to take up the responsibility, you supposed you could handle it.

Graceland, 1971

After Elvis’ second national tour, you took a week off to visit home and see your family. You called home as much as you could, but it was tough to get anyone on the line when your schedule was so unusual. Having a full week with them would give you the time to catch up on all of the details of working for Elvis that they could never seem to get enough of, and also spend quality time with you, which happened less and less as the years went by.

The longer you stayed there, the less it felt like home. You hadn’t realized you’d replaced memories of your childhood home with those of Graceland, confused when your house didn’t behave the way the bustling mansion did, from the building itself to the people. Even your childhood bedroom was unfamiliar compared to your room at Graceland or even the International. You were almost relieved when your vacation was cut short on the fourth day by a call at three in the morning that you could hardly understand.

“Y/N, darlin’, you need to come back, please,” Elvis sobbed over the phone.

“Elvis, please slow down and explain to me what happened,” you said gently.

“‘Cilla left me, took Lisa with her and I–I need you right now. I’m sorry but please come home.”

Home.

“I’ll take the first flight out in the morning,” you promised.

“Call me as soon as you know which one so I can send the car for you.”

“I will.”

He mumbled something under his breath that you couldn’t make out, but when you heard him sobbing again, the line cut out. Sighing, you began to pack your bags, to the chagrin of your parents who had not only been woken up in the middle of the night but also losing three days of seeing you. You gave them apologetic hugs and promises to come back soon before leaving for the airport to try to figure out how soon you could get to Memphis. The stewardess informed you there was a flight to Memphis at seven in the morning with seats available.

“Hey,” you said.

“Y/N, when are you gonna be here?” he asked.

“There’s a flight at seven I can take, so I’ll be there before noon.”

“Noon, I’ll see you by noon,” he repeated.

Your flight seemed to take forever, and you were sure the flight attendants wanted to throw you out of the emergency door for how often you asked what time it was and how much longer until you landed. The sun shined strong on Memphis when you walked out of the airport and to the car that was waiting outside for you. Drab city streets blurred past you into greener suburbs and finally to the estate that was Graceland.

As the car pulled up to the curb, you practically tumbled out the door as you rushed into the mansion. The curtains were open, the only source of any light in the place. It was chillingly empty, almost feeling like you’d arrived too early to a funeral.

Taking in a deep breath, you called out, “Elvis? It’s Y/N!”

The response you received was a loud sob which echoed through the nearly vacant house. You ran upstairs, and opened his bedroom door, only to find it empty.

“I’m in here,” he croaked out.

You saw him on the other end of the hall, standing in the doorway of his parents’ room. Walking over to him, you felt your heart break at how pathetic he looked–hair unkempt, face red, tear tracks dried on his cheeks. As soon as you were within arms’ reach, he grabbed you for a hug, crying into your shoulder.

“She’s gone. She don’t love me anymore.”

“Elvis, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, stroking his hair.

“Did you know?”

“No,” you answered honestly.

He stared at you, where you looked and how you spoke when you answered. He was trying to see if you were lying or not. Oh, that’s why the house is empty.

“Will you stay with me, Y/N?” he asked. “I know I made you leave your folks’ place early and you probably hate me, but I can’t be alone right now.”

“I could never hate you,” you whispered. “I’ll be here as long as you need.”

He seemed to take what you said to heart, because he settled down enough to sleep not long after that. You felt strange, watching him sleep in his parents’ bed. When you shifted to try to get up, he stirred, and you definitely didn’t want to wake him when he was clearly so exhausted. Through the night, he clung to you, and you woke up entangled with him.

#elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #yandere!elvis x reader #yandere x reader #elvis #elvis 2022 #austin!elvis #yandere elvis

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ghostlylicious · 8 months

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she's everything he's just julian

these scrunklies took me 5 hrs to SKETCH n i'm not even done w all the details im dead. here have it in sketch form bc i feel like my suffering needs recognition 💯💥💥💥😭

why do they have to be designed like they're in a circus /lh

also i forgot my sign like always 💥

ah of course the reference pic

some stuff abt jaskier and priscilla's designs 👇

im convinced dandelion in the witcher 3 was designed like that to compliment priscilla so well. that might actually be true

also i luv how kinda tacky n attention-grabbing jaskier's fit is but priscilla's is relatively more tame (compared to jaskier's anyways) but also still matches dandelion's craziness w all the colors. it's prob bc she doesn't wear much jewelry. writing that made me realize i forgot dandelion's necklace but shhh

random but they prob changed dandelion's hair color so priscilla could be blonde and they don't look like siblings or cousins

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elvisabutler · 1 year

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give you my heart

summary: christmastime at graceland is hectic. you and elvis enjoy some quality time alone with each other by the fire after everything is said and done. some important conversations happen. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: t to be on the safe side, i used the word cocked. pairing: elvis presley ( big daddy variation ) x female reader word count: 1846 warnings: elvis as santa. reader as mrs. claus. talk about elvis's health. basically the reader kind of taking the place of ginger alden if you're curious the time frame my mind went to. talk about marriage. brief mention of elvis's mother. potentially excessive talking to a baby belly. author’s note: merry christmas to those who celebrate and happy holidays to those who don't and happy sunday to those who neither of those apply to. also happy hanukkah. anyway! so this is the tame piece i mentioned last night. special thanks to my lovely ladies of graceland for convincing me to write both pieces. the beginning few paragraphs are the same as the first dirtier fic so no you're not imagining that. you know the drill, imagine austin or real elvis, i'm not picky because i know who i imagined. might maybe have one more christmas-y/holiday themed fic up my sleeve but that's likely for right after the holidays. and yes i am posting this at 6am, i don't understand why my brain wouldn't let me go back to sleep either. also if you want a tag for my later fics, or any of my fics in general just give me a heads up, i'm actually gonna try and start using one.

Christmastime at Graceland is always a bit of a packed house and one that is a- in your own opinion, bit of organized chaos. Between Priscilla bringing Lisa Marie, between every member of the Memphis Mafia- former and current- bringing their basic families and Elvis's own family it was a bit much to handle. Not for the first time you are so deliriously thankful for your fiance still having a relatively cordial at least nowadays relationship with Priscilla. You're pretty sure you would have been lost for the first two Christmases you had hosted and even for this one had you not had her to fall back on.

You're able to handle it though, flitting through rooms like a hummingbird, the swell of your stomach rounding out the red dress lined with white fur causing you to bump once or twice into the children running around and twice into Santa himself, causing him to run his hand across it, murmuring apologies to you and to your little one who gives him an answering kick that has him grinning even more than he already was under his fake beard. Your pregnancy, while giving you more energy than you thought was possible, sometimes also drains you more than you'd like during social engagements. Elvis warns all the adults ahead of time, tells them that things might be cut short if you're looking like you need to relax. You manage to make it a respectable three hours, even if by the end you find yourself sitting on one of the couches, rubbing at your belly enough that despite you moving to stand up shakily in your heels he's showing everyone out in record time.

Lisa and Priscilla are sound asleep upstairs as you find yourself curled up under a blanket on the rug in front of the fireplace with Elvis behind you supporting your back. One of his hands is rubbing small circles against your skin, watching as your child occasionally reacts with a kick that has him huffing a laugh against your neck and has you rolling your eyes. This is all you've really wanted today, for honestly the entire week as preparation for this soiree truly went into overdrive. Elvis might be taking a break from touring and from everything else to focus on his health a little and to focus on you and the child growing in you but he's a bit of a workhorse who doesn't know proper sleeping hours even on his best behavior. You're used to it and it makes times like this, makes these simple moments special.

You're both tired from today's festivities, him from running around after the kids and passing out gifts and you from just entertaining. Any other night after being as pulled apart from one another as you had been lately would have ended in some form of sex but it feels almost like too much effort for the pair of you. The baby within you keeps rolling about, the excitement from today and from Elvis's touch proving to be a combination to drive you a bit batty. Elvis wants to stay behind you, wants to be the rock you lean against but at the same time, he can't help the overwhelming urge he has to talk to your stomach, to kiss at it and marvel at how his girl, his future wife is growing another little one for him, an active little boy he hopes but he's alright giving his lil Yisa a little sister. He doesn't fight the urge after a while, after the fourth kick from your child has you huffing a little out your nose. With an agility you forget he has off stage he moves his body almost like a predator and you find his mouth placing a soft kiss to your belly as he speaks.

"Now ya listen here, it ain't nice to make mama hurt like that. Know ya jealous ya ain't out here enjoyin' the season but next year, lil one. Gonna be in our arms or running around the room. Or maybe you'll be in our arms when we get married. Have ourselves a Christmas wedding." He looks up at you, looking younger than his years. "'Less ya wanna be my wife sooner than that. Ya already got the ring and my big baby."

Your hand moves to his head, thankful he had taken the Santa hat off ages ago and you allow yourself to run your fingers through his hair. It’s a little sweaty still, but you figure it’s from the heat and the former hat. Elvis’s eyes flutter shut a little at the motion, the action being something comforting no matter who’s doing it. A smile plays on your lips before you shrug. “Your very big baby, wondering how much bigger I’m going to get- if I didn’t know any better I’d say there were two in there.” You pause and motion to the belly his head’s now resting on. “I’m not fitting into any wedding dress, sweetheart. Can’t have a wedding till this is all gone.”

Elvis laughs a little and rubs at your belly again, marveling at the kick he receives back, this time down toward the bottom of your stomach instead of toward the top. Maybe there was something to be said about your joke about there being two in there. He shakes his head before he speaks. “We can, ya just don’t wanna have everyone lookin’ at ya and realizin’ I’ve already got ya full of me ‘fore were married. ‘Sides, there’s always a courthouse one. Can do that for now, no fuss ‘n later on we can have the big ceremony with everyone.”

It’s not a bad thought, you think, allowing both of you the privacy of being married before everyone else knows, a truly rare thing that you figure would only serve to help your relationship rather than hinder it. Still, you’re wondering where all this is coming from, Elvis had been content to put a ring on you right before you found out you were pregnant and you had told him you wanted to have a Christmas wedding- a fact that had delighted him to no end at the time- but you hadn’t realized just how big you’d be around Christmas thus forcing you to put aside your plans.Your teeth worry at your lower lip before you say anything. “Just me dressed up in something nice, you dressed up in something nice and we just march down to the courthouse and say our I dos? No fuss.”

“Aw hell-” He starts, rubbing at his neck as he places another kiss to your stomach, murmuring something else before moving to sit up even as you want him to stay in your lap, just allowing you to stroke his hair. This had to mean business if he was turning down the chance to get it. “Look I know my mama's looking down on me right now and reminding me not to mess the one up. Already cocked it up a little giving you the little one early. Figure she'll come haunt me if I don't do what ya want me t'do. And I know you wanted a Christmas themed weddin’ but darlin’ I want ya to be my Mrs. Claus already. Want that ring on your finger to be our wedding ring. I’m bein’ impatient but hell- I don’t even want them questionin’ when you’re pushin’ out our baby whose it is. Just-” He pauses, and moves to cup your cheek, an action that causes you to nuzzle into his hand. “I wanna be able t’call ya my wife already. Wanna be your husband already.”

Not for the first time lately or even today you find your chest tightening at the love you feel for the man in front of you. He’s not perfect- God, don’t you know it and there’s a part of you in the back of your mind that’s prepared to eventually join Priscilla in being his ex-wife once you get married but it’s times like these, these simple times where he bares his soul to you that you’re reminded of why he’s the man you fell in love with.You bring your hand to rest over his and pull him into a soft kiss. “You’re that impatient, huh, big boy? You promise we wouldn’t make a fuss? That I can still have my wedding next year with you and I bouncing the baby between us during the ceremony?”

He nods solemnly. “If that’s what my baby wants, if that’s what my wife wants, already told ya, mama’ll come haunt me if I don’t do what ya want. I’ll make it so we’re in and out and I’ll get Joe or one of the boys to take some pictures and that’ll be it. No fuss, no fans, nothing but you, me and the- well the little one inside ya but that can’t be helped.”

You giggle softly, running your free hand across your stomach as if to comfort the baby and to just help ground yourself to think.It’s a perfect plan, you think, and you’ve got just the outfit that could work. “They’re probably open on the 27th, you know. If you’re real serious about making me your wife as quick as you can.”

The grin that forms on Elvis’s face makes him look like a giddy school boy or like every silly picture of him just doing this full face grin that to this day amuses you to no end. You had said the right thing by agreeing and his excitement feels a little contagious as he nods his head. “I was serious as anythin’, darlin’. Gonna- Gotta make the plans tomorrow mornin’ when everyone’s awake and gotta tell ‘Cilla she can’t leave just yet- gotta have Lisa and her, just to witness. Oh- This might be the best Christmas present you’ve given me. Don’t think ya ever gonna top this one.” He bends down and places another kiss to your stomach. “Your mama is perfect ya know that, so lucky t’have her as ya mama.”

You shake your head, marveling a bit at the joy and the silliness in the air before you grab at Elvis’s face and place another kiss to his lips. “They got a real silly daddy but I’m marrying him early as a late Christmas gift so guess I‘m just as silly. Can we take this upstairs, jolly ole Saint Elvis?”

Once again, Elvis stands up quicker than you forget he can sometimes and pulls you up and close to him as he peppers your face with kisses. “Of course, gotta make sure my wife is comfortable. What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t? Can’t get started off on the wrong foot. Come on, let’s get to bed.” He pauses and takes a moment to look you up and down. “Love ya.”

You shake your head and laugh at the way he looks at you. “Love you too, you impatient man.”

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