Babbling Notes: These drabbles - well, some are pretty long... yeah. Anyway, these come from my tumblr after requests or prompts and so forth. I'm posting them here so that they'll all be in one spot. :3 I'd like to kick this off with a longer one, although the drabbles range from legit one-shots to fluffy less than 1000 words. Please enjoy~! :D
Kingdom Prompt
Becoming a Knight was the best thing that ever happened to him. He was a hero to the people. They looked up to him, admired him, and even gave him free food when he was hungry out of sheer kindness. Women giggled and blushed at him as he rode through villages and towns, fluttering their dark lashes and pouting their full, pink lips. If he could go back in time he'd definitely go through the years and years of grueling training all over again; without a doubt.
But what had to be the greatest perk of being a Royal Knight wasn't the adoring public or the wanton girls, but it was the armor. Or better yet, it was the blacksmith that had been issued to the Knights to craft their armor and weapons. The man's name was Arthur Kirkland, and he was by far the most talented smith he'd ever met in his travels. His suits fit like a second skin, the hilt of his sword was perfectly balanced in his grip, and even his boots were detailed with minute embellishments that made it stand out without being too overpowering on the eyes. He smiled happily. Nothing could possibly be better.
His stallion brayed as he entered the town, lightly tapping his heels into the steed's sides as it attempted to stop and take an apple from a child that was running too close. The capital city was always a busy, touch-and-go place for him. People of all walks of life scattered about the cobbled streets, talking, gossiping, and vending their wares. He was only here to receive his new orders from the Royals and then to make a mandatory stop at the smithy.
And excited grin made its way onto his face as he saw the familiar cloud of smoke and embers in the sky. Maybe he should stop by the smithy first just to say hello…
"Sir Knight! Sir Knight!"
Reluctantly he eased his stallion into a slow halt, glancing around the busy marketplace until he spotted a young girl running up to him, a loaf of bread held in the cusp of her lifted skirts. "Ah, hello, how do you fare?" he asked as sincerely as he could muster, as was expected of him (or at he liked to believe so. Knights were the protectors of the people and therefore should be kind and caring towards them).
The girl blushed a bit, stopping next to the stallion with a small "eep" noise that she covered with her hand. "I am well, Sir Knight! U-uh, my mother… She pulled this loaf from the oven just now, so it is still warm and sweet. She wanted me to give it to you as thanks, for helping us."
"Thank you!" he chirped, accepting the tender loaf and wrapping it in a spare linen cloth from his saddlebags. He had learned a long time ago that refusing gifts from the villagers would most like upset them, and he was never one to turn down free food. "Tell you mother it is greatly appreciated."
"Of course!" The girl then skipped off into the crowd, her yellow skirts swaying as she did so.
He made sure to watch her just enough to assure she wasn't harmed before turning back around to face the smithy. His heart nearly skipped a beat when he caught sight of that shock of brilliant blond hair, laced with soot, and a familiar scowl of disappointment. Hurriedly he kicked his stallion back into motion as that face disappeared back into the smithy. With ease he slid off his mount and hitched him up to a nearby prong.
The smithy was sooty and warm, just as it always was, and he took a nostalgic breath, smelling the burnt iron and ores as if it were the one thing that reminded him of home. "Hey! I'm back from my tour!" he called into the shop, completely ignoring the fact that the blacksmith he so adored was standing a few feet or so from him, pretending to check a sword for flaws. Of course anything Arthur Kirkland made was flawless.
"Quite finished chasing the town's skirts, then, are you?" was the standoffish reply. Arthur set the sword down with a grimace. "This one's complete rubbish."
He only laughed off the hostility, clapping the smith on the back and grinning. "Pshaw, your work is the best out there! It's fantastic and you know it – and I have my life to prove it!"
Arthur's glare softened at the last remark, his vivid green eyes boring into his own. "Alfred… Are you harmed?" A skillful hand came up to touch his arm gently.
Even though he couldn't feel it, he imagined that Arthur's hand was warm and calloused against his skin and he smiled. "Perfectly fine thanks to you. I took an arrow in the shoulder joint from some bandit on one of the outskirt towns. It barely bled – hardly even a scar." He paused before placing his gloved hand over Arthur's. "But I've gotta get to the outpost and find out what my new orders are. Maybe… maybe this time they'll give me a capital job."
"Don't get your hopes up," Arthur grumbled as he wrenched his hand away. "Now be off with you before you get us both in trouble with your dawdling."
Alfred chuckled and nodded. "Yes, yes. I'll be back before you know it. I'm going to need some… adjustments."
There was no verbal response from the blacksmith, only a sharp nod of his head and a devious smirk on his bow-shaped lips. Alfred made a quick escape back out into the open air. He'd forgotten exactly how hot it could get inside that shop.
His orders always came in the form of a rolled parchment sealed with bright blue wax and the Royal crest that would be delivered to him by a squire once he'd announced his return. Normally it came with a sum of money that he was permitted to spend in any way he wished. It was like congratulatory coin for surviving his last errand, other than his usual stipend.
The young squire handed him the pouch and parchment with a sniff and a nod, that which Alfred found to be oddly rude and decided that if someone needed a hero to save their oily ass, he'd find a way to not be present.
With a tiny frown he counted the coins as he walked back to the stables. Twelve coppers for every bandit slain, five coppers for each dispute settled in the name of the Crown, nine coppers bonus for each week that was spent away. In total he found himself with twenty gold. Not bad, considering he could have easily died towards the end there. He really did owe Arthur his life this time.
With his thoughts drifting towards the abrasive blacksmith, he made his way into the stables and mounted his horse, tucking his new, unopened orders into the loop of his sword belt.
He made his way back to the market easily enough, browsing the shops now that he had coin and most of the morning crowds had thinned. Most of the best produce had been picked through by the early arrivals, but there were still some fresh fruits and juicy meats to choose from, and he filled his saddlebags with food enough for the next couple days that he'd be spending in the city before heading out again.
Finally he couldn't press the matter of visiting Arthur off any further and he led his stallion through the market by his reins, hitching him up behind the shop and removing the saddlebags with a grunt. Maybe he'd bought more than he thought he had.
With his saddlebags over his shoulder, he entered the smithy with a grin, slightly put off to see Arthur busy with a client, nodding with jerky bobs of his head as the patron rambled off desires and instructions. He tried to set the saddlebags off in the corner without making too much noise, but it was difficult to remain silent in clicking chainmail.
"Oh! Sir Knight! I did not see you there!" the client said suddenly, stopping in the middle of his sentence, which caused Arthur to scowl over at Alfred.
Alfred smiled amiably. "Oh, don't worry about me, sir! I'm waiting for adjustments to my armor, so I'll be here awhile. Don't mind me!"
The client nodded respectfully before pulling a folded piece of paper, explaining that it had all of his requests written within, which earned yet another irritated look from the blacksmith. The man gave Alfred a short tip of his hat and left.
"Your doors aren't closed yet?" Alfred said with a slight hitching whine in his voice, approaching Arthur with a pout. "I've been waiting all day."
Arthur snorted. "It isn't even sundown, fool. Now, do come here and let me see your armor. I'm assuming there's damage to the shoulder plates?"
"Yeah…" Alfred fished the piece of armor in question from his saddlebags. He fidgeted a bit before finally relinquishing the metal over to Arthur.
Arthur's breathed hitched as his long, hard worked fingers brushed over the jointed metal plates. "Alfred… it's… completely penetrated… mangled beyond use! How did you…?" His sharp green eyes found Alfred's blue ones. "Let me see the scar."
Alfred hesitated momentarily. "Oh… it's not that bad, I promise. You don't need to –"
"Now." Quickly the blacksmith strode across the room and closed the wide, double doors of the shop that let out much of the forge's heat. "Show me."
Finding little room to argue, Alfred pulled off his blue tunic followed by his shirt of chainmail. In front of Arthur he'd always felt exposed, but almost in a good way. Like the smith could see into his very soul and still accepted him, despite the scars, both physical and emotional. "Look, Arthur, I'm just fine. It wasn't that bad, honestly…"
Arthur only shook his head, the pads of his fingers tracing over the still pink scar, puckered slightly at the edges. The scar was raw and marred Alfred's tanned flesh in ugly, angry lashes. The arrow hadn't made a clean entrance, and it didn't look like it made a clean exit, either. "Love, this is no small thing…"
"Yes it is! Without that armor you made me, that arrow woulda gone straight through the bone and everything. I'd be either dead or out of commission. So, in comparison, this is nothing and I honestly owe you my life."
The blacksmith closed his eyes for a moment. "If only I could craft something impenetrable …" he murmured as he wrapped his arms about Alfred's neck, nuzzling his face into the junction of his shoulder. "Nothing would ever harm you, then."
"Hey, I'm still here, yeah? Don't worry so much!" Alfred laughed breathily as Arthur only harrumphed into his skin. "I missed you," he mumbled, wrapping his arms around Arthur's chest.
Arthur picked his head up to look Alfred in the eye. "Nine months in an awfully long time."
"Yeah. It just seems like the quests get longer and longer…" He frowned a bit. "But I don't wanna think about that right now. Can we just enjoy our time together?"
"I suppose I can have that arranged." Arthur smiled lightly and leaned upwards, capturing Alfred's lips in a tender, loving kiss, filled with the loneliness and sadness he'd experienced while waiting for the Knight to return. "So, did you bring something to eat? I imagined you would, as you always do," Arthur said teasingly as he pulled away.
Alfred's eyes were half closed, still leaning into the spot where the kiss had taken place. "Mhm… Can I have another one?"
With a roll of his eyes, Arthur indulged the Knight before fetching the saddlebags. He rummaged through them before nodding in approval, picking up the heavily laden bags and carrying them into the adjacent rooms next to the forge. All the while Alfred admired the blacksmith's muscular frame, garnered from years of hard work, although he was always proud to boast that his own muscles were larger. Arthur had always simply shaken his head at him and called him vain, and maybe he was, but he knew Arthur liked it.
The forge let off a constant heat, despite the iron doors being shut tightly. It was a godsend in the winter and almost a torturous hell in the summer. When he was younger he had spent most of his days at the smithy in the small village where he grew up, admiring the weapons and armor and tools that the smith had made from what looked like completely useless ores and hunks of rough metals. He had been thoroughly enraptured by the art, often proclaiming that one day he'd use all those swords and weapons within the shop.
He remembered when he'd told that to Arthur for the first time. The blacksmith had simply laughed at him, told him he'd be dead if he didn't choose one weapon and master it. "Jack of all trades, Master of none," he'd said. Alfred had taken it to heart.
"It's still early for dinner, but have a spot of something," Arthur said as he re-entered the workshop and handed Alfred a slice of bread and a chunk of cheese. "Although I'm sure you've had plenty throughout the day to tide you over."
Alfred grinned and accepted the food happily. "What can I say, I'm a growing boy!"
Arthur scoffed. "You're three and twenty. If you grow any more, it'll be sideways."
They shared a laugh before eating in companionable silence. The forge groaned with heat and Alfred broke the silence with a tiny sigh. "Sometimes I wish I'd never become a Knight, so I didn't have to leave you all the time. How do I know if some pretty lady is trying to court you?"
"If you'd never become a Knight, we'd never had met, dolt. And allay your fears. No one would attempt to court me, being as dull and grouse as I am."
Arthur was taken by surprise when Alfred wrapped his arms about his waist. "No you're not! You're so handsome Arthur, especially after a bath and you comb your hair back. If any lady in her right mind saw that, she'd demand to be married to you right away!" He huffed childishly and kissed Arthur sweetly. "Besides, I courted you, didn't I?"
"Y-you great oaf." The smith flushed, but made no move to remove himself from Alfred's arms. "I'm not some woman who can be wooed with honeyed words."
Alfred's blue eyes shined playfully, the merriness almost seemed to dance within; expectant, happy, excited. "Oh? Then how do I woo you properly?"
"You can start… by finishing your undressing. It's been so long since I've seen you."
The Knight grinned mischievously. "But I haven't seen you either, Arthur! It wouldn't be fair if you got to see all of me, while I see hardly any of you!" His hands, rough and calloused from years of swordplay and fighting, fiddled with Arthur's suspenders, unhitching them from his belt and tossing them to the side. The buttons of his soot-stained linen shirt slowly came undone, one by one, exposing Arthur's creamy chest, unblemished with the exception of one, old, white scar on the inside of his bicep. Alfred kissed the scar, as he always did. It had been from an accident with the forge, a constant reminder that Arthur's job wasn't exactly the safest, either.
Arthur kissed him as he worked, wanton kisses on his face and lips and neck. It had felt like years since they'd held one another and even longer since they'd made love.
"In my pocket," Arthur breathed as their shoes and trousers were removed, his hands roaming over Alfred's skin as if it were a painting that could only be admired by touch. His fingers danced into the Knight's hairline as Alfred grunted in acknowledgement, plucking a vial of oil from Arthur's discarded trouser pocket.
"How and where?" Alfred asked once they were both naked and standing flush together, touching, kissing, and licking anything they could.
Arthur didn't respond right away. Instead he pulled Alfred down to the floor on a small rug where his discarded clothes lay. Arthur sat on Alfred's hips, his hands tracing over dusky nipples. "Let me have the oil," he murmured, leaning down to nip at the muscles of Alfred's pectoral.
After a moment of trepidation, Alfred relinquished the vial, settling his hands onto Arthur's hips and rubbing tireless circles into the insides of his thighs. "I missed this," he said softly before Arthur took his lips and a long, loving kiss.
The blacksmith poured the greasy oil into his hand, reaching between their bodies, shifting his stance on his knees a bit to penetrate himself with two fingers. He gasped into the kiss, and Alfred's hands began to trace along his body, from his knees to his shoulders and face and back again, his blue eyes darkened with lust and longing.
Alfred continued to tease him as he prepared himself, calloused fingers flicking at his nipples, rubbing at the head of his cock, teeth nibbling on the juncture of his neck. By the time Arthur was finished, he thought he might explode from a premature orgasm. He grabbed the vial once more and poured more of the oozy liquid into his palm before he took Alfred's cock into his hand and generously rubbed the solution against the Knight's needy erection.
"Are you ready, love?" he asked rhetorically as he positioned himself above Alfred. Before the Knight could answer, he lowered himself onto Alfred's cock, watching as Alfred gasped and his head tilted back with a long, wanton moan. Slowly he lowered himself further and further until he was completely seated with Alfred's girth. "I missed you," he sighed out, adjusting his hips a bit.
"U-uhnn, I missed you s-so much, Arthur. Don't… ever wanna leave… again…" He groaned as Arthur began to lift himself once more, his strong thighs twitching as he began to move faster and faster, his artisan hands spread out across Alfred's chest for balance as he rode the Knight lustfully.
Alfred bucked up into Arthur, seeking more friction, his toes curling in pleasure. The workshop was hot and heady from the forge, bits of stray soot smeared across their warm, sweaty skin. The heat made him feel dizzy, but it seemed to almost triple the pleasure that coursed through his veins.
He came with a stunted cry, his hands twitching their grip on Arthur's shoulders. Once he'd regained control of his motor skills, he reached down for Arthur's cock and stroked it generously, squeezing and rubbing until Arthur came onto his chest with a breathy gasp.
Alfred pulled Arthur into his arms, brushing away a lock of hair laced with soot from his flushed face. "I love you," he whispered tenderly.
"I love you too," Arthur mumbled, squirming into a comfortable position within Alfred's arms. His arm brushed against something unexpected and he picked up his head, his fingers wrapping around Alfred's unopened orders. "What's this?"
The Knight blinked, taking the rolled parchment from Arthur belatedly. With a small, concentrated frown he peeled off the wax stamp and carefully read the script within. Arthur watch Alfred read, the Knight's face slowly changing from a frown to a barely contained grin. "What is it?" he asked repeatedly, only to be shushed each time until Alfred finished reading the entire document. "What does it say, you bloody arse. Why are you grinning like that?"
"Say Arthur, what would say if I told you I'd be stuck in the capital for the next… oh… let's say, year?"
The blacksmith paused, disbelieving. He snatched up the orders and read it for himself, a small sheen of tears pestering at the corners of his eyes. "Why… I just might… Will you stay, with me?"
Alfred smiled softly, kissing Arthur on the lips and then the nose. "Only if you'll have me," he muttered.
"I'll have it no other way."
They shared smiles that were bursting with joy and happiness and love, rolling around a bit on the ground and teasing their naked bodies out of sheer relief.
Becoming a Knight had to have been the best decision Alfred had ever made, right after falling in love with Arthur.