#I am slowly adding relationships to the muse pages and such too...

[sonchiildren]

Today, I am going to be finishing up the muses profiles and adding the last few bits and bobbles. I might do a relationship call maybe later for anyone who like to be affiliated with the muses...and I may or may not post some more of my DBZ art including some screenshot edits I've done. Other than that...Imma try to get to answering my asks and drafts soonish too. Plus work on icons I need for my muses.

[greypetrel]

WIP Whenever

Tagged again by @shivunin and @daggerbeanart, thank you very much! I'm on holiday right now, so I'm a little bit slow and working traditionally but...

I found an Art Nouveau piece and thought that oh look that's Radha. And redrawn it on my sketchbook. And coloured it with watercolours. I have... A love/hate relationship with watercolours, but I haven't brought any markers with me this year to force myself to use them more. And since it's been a while since I've been wanting to do a couple set in Art Nouveau style with her and Aisling... Here. Your muse of Writing and History, Prophet's Laurel all around and PURPLE. The paper is blotchy and not the right one, don't mind that, OOPS.

DadWolf going on, page 5. This page has been... Something that picked me a little off the ground. I'll speak about it more when it won't come out as terribly sad and sappy. I'm looking at those bookshelves and shivering at the idea of colouring them, for now.

Not Dragon Age related, and I'll hope you'll forgive me... But yeah. I am a sucker for trash movies, and John Wick is... It's a trash movie with a lot of money and Keanu Reeves and I love the saga. The sketch on the left was drawn... I think in 2017 when I first saw the first movie and snickered a lot because in Russian he's nicknamed "Baba Yaga"... Which isn't really the boogeyman. It's an old witch that lives in the woods in Slavic folklore, in a tiny hut with chicken legs. And travels on a cauldron. I kept the chicken legs as a reference to the hut. But well I fount the sketch and thought to redraw it. Adding the dog because the dog is VERY important.

Writing-wise I'm a little slow at the moment, but here's a piece from Monster Fic that I don't know if I'll keep. The night right after the Arbor Wilds, Aisling got back, managed to quarrel awfully with Cassandra AND Cullen. Everyone is miserable.

Tagging: @transprincecaspian @zenstrike @scribbledquillz @heniareth @herearedragons @oxygenforthewicked @layalu and YOU who are reading this!

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Abelas told her she shouldn’t really roam on her own in the Temple, particularly at night. The complex was built on the side of a cliff that opened on more forest down below, with gentle hills and mountains in the background facing west. In some places, where balconies had been long ago, the balaustrade had long fallen, leaving just openings on nothing: the incautious visitor could all too easily fall to their death.

But she was left with very little to do, after unloading Little Brother and setting up a camp in the big atrium for them… Four. Because it ended up that one of the Templars gave in for good, and didn’t really feel like going out. Not with the whole of the Inquisition army ready to jump on him. No one there could really disagree, and since the man -George, a burly man in his fourties, with a ruddy face that spoke of many laughters and evenings spent drinking with friends and eyes that still sparkled even if they were heavily rimmed in red- had been so quick in lowering his sword and yielding…

Aisling had given him one of the cots that were packed on her horse, insisted when he tried to say that no, that was hers, and just… Curled around her saddle, using it as a pillow and rolling herself in a blanket side by side with Radha, and allowed herself to cry.

Except, no tears came forth.

She was grateful of being there, and opening her eyes, looking at remnants of a past long gone, something that every First would have killed to find. Something that poor Taven actually died to find. It’s huge, it’s been kept in wondrous state… And it’s inhabited. It’s inhabited, and she has the way to ask to her heart’s content.

And yet, all she can think of is that the Herald of Andraste would be up in a camp on the top of a hill, after a round of greetings and congratulations with the Empress, the Marquise of the Dales and all the nobles they rallied to the help. After that, she would have pretended to retire in her tent and slipped right out to slowly reach and sneak in the Commander’s one, and sleep curled against his warm frame, caressed by hands that were always cold, held and safe and loved.

And yet, she’s just Aisling, a Dalish mage that touched the wrong artifact and now has gained a unique ability, the mask has been left in her tent up the hill, and she feels giddy from both the sensation of having stood up for herself and the idea of all that she wants to ask to the elves there and explore and learn there. At the same time, tho, the giddiness is chased around by regret, the slimy feeling of being ignoring responsibilities, that she should be up there and doing her job, that she let everyone down. Nobody who stopped in the Temple was happy: Radha is angry because Morrigan drank from the Well, and both Aisling and Solas stopped her when Aisling turned down the chance. Solas is in one of his moods and hurt from Radha being angry.

Her heart beats too fast, her thoughts are too quick: she knows she won’t be sleeping any time soon, unless she does something. So, she lets go of the saddle, quietly slips out of the blanket and leaves on tip-toes, bringing the blanket with her and careful not to wake her sister up.

She saw the old balcony on her way to the baths, and even if there’s no more an old elven guide and the corridors are dark, she can find her way back with ease. The moon is shining up above between the canopies, and the corridors are large, easy to follow. She could maybe activate the magical lanterns that glows very dimly hanging from the ceilings, but on a second thought, she doesn’t know where the other elves sleep, here, and she doesn’t want to risk waking someone up and having to explain why exactly she’s walking around on her own. “I miss my boyfriend, but he believes I am the elven tool of the big plan of a deity I don’t believe in and so I can’t sleep” sounds too pitiful, and who knows whether they’ll approve of her being with a human.

She takes a couple of wrong turns, confused in the darkness, but in the end she finds the place she was looking for. The old pavement is broken, but bathed in moonlight, and even with the plenilune the stars are still shining, more than she can count. It’s beautiful and it’s terribly lonely, and Aisling wonders who was the last person that leaned into that balcony to see stars and enjoy the view. How many centuries passed, what were they thinking.

She curls in a corner, draping the blanket around her shoulders as she leans over the wall. One leg gets bent under the opposite knee, the other foot dwindling in the void. There’s a waterfall roaring nearby, an owl screeches somewhere in the distance, and a choir of crickets are there to lull her to sleep. The breeze is chilly, in spite of the day having been hot enough. It’s a perfect summer evening, and the stars are twinkling and she is not pretending anymore to be someone she isn’t, and she is alone.

Tears stars to fall, because she is not pretending to be someone or something that she isn’t, and the result is that she is alone. And Mythal, it feels like emerging from underwater, but keeping her breath has been so good and warm that she really thinks she could stay underwater forever.

It’s just tiredness making her think that way, she knows -she knows herself well-, the hour is very late and the day has been incredibly long, the choice she had to make a hard one, and one she doesn’t think was the right one. It’s everything, and it’s nothing, and she will feel a little better in the morning.

She lets the crickets and the owl lull her to sleep.

[bombmate]

💣 Rules 💣

//My name is Seth or you could call me Kakashi-sensei as well. I'm 34 years old and I’m from Brazil. I've been roleplaying for 11 years. About 4 years on forums, other websites and 7 years on tumblr.

I work at school so that’s mean pretty busy most of the time. So slow activity. And most online on the weekends. Even so I hope you enjoy your stay!

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Read my rules before follow or interaction, please.

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I don't follow personal blogs. If you have rp sideblog. Just let me know and I will check it out.

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This blog is multiship but singleship in each verse. I do not polyship. Sorry.

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Folks who follow me and I haven't followed yet. At least give me a week to see your about page and rules. I work full time and only on the weekends do I have more free time. If I liked you about page it's because I'm interested and I'll probably follow. Just give me a time alright? Only if it's been more than a week then it's likely I won't follow back.

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Despite being a bit shy, I'm always trying to interact with all my mutuals. So if you don't communicate with me, send asks, or we don't have a thread between our muses. I'm going to assume you don't want to interact at all and unfollow/soft block. I can understand that tumblr is a shit sometimes, people is busy, even hiatus. Besides that, sorry I won't be following you. And I hope you understand and respect that.

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Most active on the weekends. During the week is slow activity.

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This blog will not engage in any kind of drama. I've done this in the past and pretty much had traumatic experiences out of it. If you're involved in some kind of drama and I find out about it later, you'll get a soft block or block depending. Don't insist and I hope you just respect it.

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I'm usually pretty open minded with most fandoms. But even so I have a small list that I don't want to interact with or I don't see my muse interacting. If you are a multimuse that has muses in one of theses fandoms it's ok. I'm just going to interact with your other muses. I ask you please respect and don't insist. Note that more can be added if needed.

The fandoms are these: Five nights at Freddy's, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Lazy town, Strange Things.

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If you have no page rules or bio about your muses. Even if they are canons, it will likely I’ll not follow or follow back your rp blog.

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No godmodding, please.

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I am not native English. So forgive me for some possible typos and grammatical errors.

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I don't roleplay on Discord. It's hard to get online there. And with my scarce time it gets even worse. So please I ask you to respect this.

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I ask you to trim your posts. I probably won't follow or I'll unfollow if you tend to do that. It ends up getting too much pollution in my dash and it's complicated to navigate on desktop and mobile.

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Most slow activity. Generally, my work takes up most of my time. Plus, other IRL stuff that makes me tired as well. Sorry for that. If you are the type of mun that cannot wait for a reply for so long or you want constant interaction between our muses(or even between muns) Please don't follow me. Always do what is most comfortable for you. But if you follow me, keep in mind that I work slowly most of the time ok?

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My writing style is semi para. At least 3 or more depending on the thread. I have no problem answering longer, even I like it. One-line is more for crack reply, few asks or short interactions. Please, keep that in mind before following me.  

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Any images or art don’t belong to me, obviously, but to their rightful owners.

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Don’t force relationships with my muse. Any ships only with chemistry. Pre-established relationships can be accepted but talk to me first.

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Smut threads will be replied to an NSFW side-blog. I’m fine with fade to black as well. Remember that smut is not a priority here. It may happen but I prefer other types too.

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I don't roleplay romance or smut with underage muses. But platonic relationships, like family, friends, guardian and teacher I don't see problems. As long as it doesn't go beyond that. If you insist, I block instantly.

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Trigger themes mentioned in this blog in the vast majority will be death, gore, murder, weapons, alcohol, smoke, suggestive sexual themes and religious themes. If you have a specific trigger feel free to remind me. Personal triggers are lolicon, pedophilia, incest, rape, tripofobia. I ask that you tag these topics appropriately, please. As smut post too.

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These rules are not absolute. There might be changes, updates, or something removed at any moment.

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Thanks for reading this and I hope you have fun!

[coffee-imagines]

Snow White Pt. 2

part one

Pairing: Draco x muggleborn!reader

Requested: Hi I'm new here ! I found you with Snow White and daaaaamn why did you let us hang on like that... I need a part 2 ! I need a subby draco like please for sciences

The menu: smut with a splashplot? unprotected sex, there’s so many things so 100% filth basically

A/N: I was (and still am) going to take a break from smut but I don’t want to wait too long for this part two. This will be the last smut for a while until I get my head back in order. I also love that I got a different gif but from the same scene as part one :) Anyway enjoy this pure filth. This took longer to write than I care to admit

Summary: Draco is head over heels after countless degrading encounters, and he gets desperate.

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When school started up again your relationship with Draco had gone back exactly to the way it had before… almost exactly. There had been sexual tension building up between the both of you ever since your encounter in the hallway. Draco would never admit that he would still dream about the encounter, still waking up to having a small mess in his pants due to his fantasies and the memory of your hands on him.

You were no better than Draco, staring at him from across the halls whenever you got the chance. Almost all your energy went into thinking about the blonde, wanting nothing more than to have him coming undone under your touch. You remembered just how needy Draco seemed, and all you wanted to do was hear him whimper for you the way he had before. Although you both pretended to hate each other around other people, you both always found ways to touch each other during potions.

“We will be continuing our lesson on Death Potions today, everyone open your books and discuss with your partners before you come get your ingredients.” Snape explained, and you bent down to reach into your bag, cursing to yourself when you found your book missing from its usual spot.

“Draco.” You whispered over to the boy next to you making him jump slightly.

“What?” He asked, a hint of an attitude mixed with fear lacing his voice.

“I forgot my book, can we share?” You asked, scooting closer to him.

“Do I have a choice?” He grumbled, but by the look in his eye you knew what he was doing. You narrowed your eyes at him, making Draco’s heart flutter and the tightening feeling in his pants come back. 

“No.” You explained sharply, scooting closer, your hand coming to his thigh to give it a harsh squeeze. “I don’t think you should get a choice princess.” You explained making him gasp from your touch. Draco wanted to start begging right then and there. 

All the times he’d wanted you and woke up panting to the thought of your hands on him were hitting him all at once, but at that moment he’d also wanted to hide it, not wanting to let you win and give you the satisfaction from the way you made him feel. He stayed silent, looking at you in surprise and shock trying to find the words, but it seemed he was freezing just the way he did in the hall.

“Shy are you, Snow White?” You smirked down at him, your hand sliding up his thigh. 

Before you could get any further you withdrew your hand and flipped to the right page, clearing your throat when Snape walked by your table and you both started talking about the potion. You and Draco were bickering like an old married couple for most of the class, budding heads with each other with any small disagreement. You knew Draco wasn’t meaning anything he was saying, you knew Draco… or you thought you knew how Draco was. The only way you knew was to test it.

“You keep giving me attitude and I’ll have to put you in your place princess.” You whispered in Draco’s ear making him shiver. “Understood?” You asked sharply, making Draco’s legs shake at your tone alone. 

“Yes.” He nodded, putting in more of the ingredients into the cauldron with shaky hands.

“Yes what?” You asked, your breath fanning his neck making him shiver.

“Yes ma’am.” He whispered, making you smile.

“Such a good girl for me aren’t you Snow White? I was looking for a yes I understand but ma’am is much better.” You teased, giving him a small nudge. “Now move over. You’re doing it wrong.” You explained, grabbing Draco’s hand in yours before moving it to the side so you could take over. 

Draco was watching you, looking you up and down taking all of you in. He wanted to feel your touch on him again. He had been aching for your touch for weeks on end and he didn’t know how much longer he could take it. It seemed that a lightbulb went on in his head, a blush creeping its way up to his cheeks. He tried to plan it out in his head the rest of the class, causing you to do almost all the work in class. 

You’d both parted ways to your next class without a word, you couldn’t get Draco out of your head. There was no denying you wanted to watch him squirm under you. He didn’t leave your mind the rest of the day, the memories of his moans and whimpers still finding their way into your head. You’d been taking a walk to clear your mind, glad that you’d found a hallway that didn’t have many people. That had been until you felt someone’s hand grab your wrist, pulling you into what you would have assumed to be a classroom. You were surprised to come face to face with Draco, and you’d definitely not been in any room you’d ever seen at Hogwarts before. 

“Draco?” You asked in surprise, looking around the room behind him to see what looked to be a bedroom behind him.

“Take me.” Draco blurted out making your eyes widen in shock.

“I… take… what?” You stuttered out, still trying to process what room you had been pulled into.

“Please Y/N. I need you.” Draco begged, falling to his knees in front of you. “I need you so bad.” He whimpered grabbing your hand, making you instantly become wet at the look of desperation Draco was giving. You hadn’t cared where you were anymore, the lust and sexual tension overpowering any logical thought you had. 

“Beg for me.” You instructed, your finger went under his chin, tilting his head back more.

“Y/N please I’ll be a good girl for you. I’ll be a good little princess. I need you so bad, I need to feel you so bad please.” Draco begged and his words kept hitting you hard, making you want to throw him on the bed and have your way with him. “Please I’ll do anything.” He continued making you smirk. 

“Anything?” You asked, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him up to his feet. He nodded shyly, a small blush permanently painting itself across his cheeks. “Use your words princess.” You teased, running your thumb across his bottom lip. 

“Yes anything.” He breathed out nodding rapidly. “I just need you. I can’t stop thinking about how you touched me.” He rambled on, only adding to your confidence. 

“Oh?” You mused, constricting his air by applying pressure to his throat. “I’ve got myself a desperate princess don’t I?” You asked, admiring how Draco’s eyes fluttered at you choking him and he could only let out a raspy groan. “You’re already so much fun to play with Snow… and I haven’t even started.” You explained, getting close and whispering against his lips. 

You let go of his throat, pulling him in for a kiss and tangled your fingers in his hair. You both moaned in content finally realizing you’d both wanted each other. You flipped your positions so Draco’s back was against the door. You pulled away and started kisses and nipping at Draco’s jawline, already having him squirm. Kisses were making their way down his neck, and you bit his sweet spot gently before sucking causing his hips to buck. 

“Now, now.” You tsked, pulling away. “Be patient. You don’t want to cum before I even touch you do you?” You taunted, your hand hovering over where he needed you.

“N-no.” He shook his head, his eyes stuck like glue on your hand.

“Strip for me.” You pat his face, taking a step back. “I’m not going to ask twice princess.” You explained after a while of Draco standing and watching you. You sat on the bed looking him up and down and he slowly started taking off his clothes.

“What about you?” He asked, squirming under your gaze once he was fully naked infront of you.

“You have to earn it first princess.” You explained, biting your lip to keep yourself from smiling when you saw his length twitch. “Don’t stand there looking pretty, come.” You curled your finger at Draco licking your lips.

He slowly walked over to you, his heart racing when he saw just the way you were looking at him. He shifted his weight before he felt your hand on his stomach making him hold his breath. You traced your finger lightly down his chest humming at the sound of Draco’s heavy breathing. You raked your nails against his delicate skin, pulling a whine from Draco.

“Please.” Draco whimpered, his hands coming up to hold onto your shoulders. You turned your head to side, giving his wrists small gentle kisses before pulling your hand away from him. Before Draco could protest you pulled him onto the bed, getting on your knees so you could tower over him.

“You poor thing.” You cooed, rubbing Draco’s thigh slowly. “You’ve been all pent up since our last meeting haven’t you?” You faked a pout, rubbing small circles in his inner thigh. Draco’s breathing was erratic, his eyes already squeezed shut. You gently wrapped your fingers around his throbbing length, a broken gasp leaving his parted lips. “Shh.” You soothed him, your free hand coming up to lightly caress his cheek.

You started moving your hand at an agonizingly slow pace, earning a low moan from Draco. He kept his head back, savoring any and all touch you were giving him. It took all he had not to buck his hips into your hand. A cry left him when you lightly brushed the tip, leaving a smile on your face.

“Y/N.” Draco whimpered out, his hand reaching for yours making you interlace your fingers with his. The next slow pump you gave him ended at the base, and a mischievous smile tugged at your lips. “Oh god!” Draco cried out in pleasure when you squeezed before continuing your slow pumps. Draco’s bottom lip was quivering from pleasure, his hips denying his wishes and bucking up into your hand. He opened his mouth to speak, nothing but boken words falling from his lips instead of full sentences.

“What do you need my princess?” You cooed, your finger tracing its way down his length.

“Please make me yours. I want to be all yours please. Oh please.” Draco begged and whined when your fingers started tracing his balls.

“Since you asked so nicely… I suppose.” You teased with a small laugh before standing up. Draco watched you with fascination, his eyes filled with lust while he watched you slip out of your clothes.

You climbed back onto the bed, stradling Draco’s lap. He stared up at you in anticipation, his hands coming up to feel your body. You hummed when his fingers brushed your chest and you bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning. Grabbing Draco’s length in your hand made Draco freeze, the reality of what was about to happen setting in when he felt his head poke at your entrance. You let yourself sink down slowly onto him, both of you letting out moans.

You started moving your hips slowly, your fingers playing with the hair at the base of Draco’s neck. You leaned forward, kissing the corner of his mouth before your eyes met. It was as though you were both seeing each other in a new light, drinking in the other person’s features. You started moving up and down slowly, your walls clenching around Draco when his eyes flickered down to your lips. 

You leaned in slowly, gasping when your lips brushed. Both of your eyes fluttered closed when you met in the middle, your lips moving with each other’s slowly. It felt as though you were both kissing for the first time. Nothing but passion and what you wouldn’t have dared called love out loud was shared through the kiss. You cupped Draco’s cheek in your hand and deepened the kiss, your hips working their way to a slow pace so you could both savor the moment. 

“Draco.” You moaned against his lips, both of you finally just enjoying each other rather than teasing. 

“I’m gonna-” Draco tried but you cut him off with another kiss and sped up. 

You would’ve teased him about being close so early, but you were already reaching your high before him. Both of your moans filled the room, Draco’s warm cum filling you up while your walls clenched around him and your hips stilled as your body shook through your orgasm. You rode out both of your highs for a few more seconds before you finally laid next to Draco on the bed, both of you holding onto each other.

“Not bad for a mudblood huh?” You teased, rubbing Draco’s chest slowly making both of you laugh.

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Tag list: Let me know if you’d like to be added

@mathletemadison @severuslovebot @izzytheninja @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @supermassiveblackhope @tinylumpiaa​ @dogglefoggle​

[liquid-luck-00]

WonderBug

Angst Edition

Diana Prince (Wonder Woman) x Marinette Dupain-Cheng (Ladybug)

I am late. SO, so , so late but here it is

1: Soulmates @maribat-angst-fluff-april

My partner is the wonderful @thedragonbug

Ao3

Fuffy Edition

Soulmates exist, and Marinette hates hers. You see everyone is born with their half or part of a complete soul mark. The other parts would appear when you were closer to your soulmate and be permanent when they were close emotionally. For everyone, the appearance or 'drawing' of the mark was light and warm. But not for her, no her drawing was heavy and hot, like a hot knife digging into her arm.

Her parents knew this, and it was concerning, to know that their child was in pain because of their soulmate. Seeing as the marks were not supposed to be painful. Yet as there was no good reason given by medical and mark professionals, and the fact that her soulmate didn't stay near her for long there was nothing that they could do. They did tell her that few, this phenomenon affects one in a million people and she was just lucky enough to be one of them.

Over the years she grew used to the pain, but every time she did it would come back even stronger than the last. She slowly hated her mark and in turn her soulmate. Marinette would cover her mark, ignore it, even wish it away. All her soulmate did was bring her pain. Sure, it upped her pain tolerance, but it hurt her still.

When she turned fourteen, she became Ladybug. She then recognized that her mark was actually the wire of her yo-yo.

The first time Chat Noir claimed they were soulmates she broke down in tears. luckily for her he told her during patrol and not an attack.

"We aren't soulmates, Chat, and I'm glad we aren't." She nearly whispered.

"Why Bug?"

"Because I hate my soulmate, and I don’t want to ever hate you."

"Why would you hate your soulmate?" He seemed genuinely curious. But no one outside her parents knew, not a single person knew what happens to her.

"Because it hurts when they are close, it hurts so badly. The drawing is painful. I never want to meet the person who keeps hunting me." Tears formed in her eyes and Chat hugged her.

"I'm not your soulmate, then." She shook her head. "Good thing I'm your partner, and Plagg help me I am going to be your best friend. Got that Bugaboo?"

A half-hearted chuckle and a small smile escaped her. "Sounds good Kitty." The first person she has ever told, the person who was convinced that they were soulmates, cares for her, to help alleviate some of her pain.

The two became inseparable after that, to the point that most of Paris believed they were in a relationship.

When Nadia asked them about it during an interview, their reactions were memorable. Both all but gagged, turned to face each other, and then laughed almost falling out of the seats.

"I believe we have missed the joke." Nadia commented, worried, and confused.

"Why would I date my sister?"

"Sister?"

"Ladybug and I consider each other siblings in all but blood."

"Everything between us is simply platonic, not even close to romantic.” Ladybug answered after Chat.

“Then why would the whole of Paris believe you to be soulmates?” She may be good at hiding her pain, but the question must have made her react slightly, or Chat knew how sensitive the topic was to her.

“We aren’t soulmates, not the bonded ones that everyone thinks of.” He began. “We are the holders of the black cat and ladybug respectively because our souls resonate with the miraculous. Sure, they are two parts of a whole, but we are practically twins, two halves of coin. She is the sister I choose, she is my partner, and that is our relationship.”

“He’s completely right, now I think it’s time for us to start our patrol, BugOut!” Her smile now in place and their excuse to leave perfectly timed and respectful they made their exit.

They went on their patrol as normal, except just as they arrived at the Eiffel Tower to end the patrol. She was about to land on the platform when a searing pain flashed and radiating affecting her entire body blinding her momentarily. A single moment caused her to collapse on the tower landing, crumpling on the platform.

“LB!” Her breath came out in short bursts, she was clutching her upper arm eyes squeezed shut. This was the worst it has ever happened before, and she wanted it to end. As soon as the cause of pain came it disappeared. Leaving only the memory and a phantom pain.

"Just give me a minute." She slowly got her breathing under control, starting to get accustomed to the new level of pain.

"You weren't kidding that is the worst I’ve ever seen you hurt."

"Yeah not fun."

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A month after that her mark burned again. This time during class. The teachers knew she would randomly stop due to pain, but they were told they were random migraines. To the point Mari would hold her head and rub her arm to sooth herself, while playing up a headache. Adrien stayed back after the class let out." You know you don't always need to put on a brave face Bugaboo."

Her attention snapped to him. "Well it's easier than constantly answering questions Kitty." She figured quickly.

Sure, they found out one another's identity, but that worked in their favor. After Tikki got sick, Fu started training Mari, and after a month Marinette was given guardianship. Fu still hasn’t lost his memories because Mari let Wayzz stay with him, for the time being, he eventually returns it to Mari in order to move on with his life, his memories fading gradually.

When Adrien got his hands on the grimoire, he of course showed it to Marinette.

“Kitty I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think your dad might be Hawkmoth.” This seemed to perfect for him to have without him being a villain.

“I know, but…”

“Adrien is there any motive anything that might be what he would wish for?”

“My mom. Dad closed himself off when she disappeared. I bet he would wish for her back.”

“Okay, so I’m going to be blunt okay.” He nodded. “So, if your mom is dead there isn’t anything that can be done without the wish, meaning at least one other person is dying.”

“So…”

“But if she is anything but.” She flipped through the grimoire recalling the studies she’s did with Fu. “There are ways we can find or even heal her.”

“This is all riding on an if.” He looked unsure as if this was too much to accept.

“Do you trust me?”

“If I didn’t, I would have turned tail and run a long time ago.”

“You dork.” She lightly shoved him, but he swayed dramatically.

“You two are close.” The new student in their class came up to them.

“Lila, right?”

“That’s right.” She answered sickly sweet, almost fake. “Are you two soulmates by any chance?”

“No.” Adrien answered. “Why?”

“You’re Adrien Agreste! Why would you be in public school?” She finally seemed to recognize.

“Let’s just say it’s a bit of rebellion.” He chuckled.

“We’re still on for video games, right?” She brought up to end the conversation seeing that Adrien was getting uncomfortable.

“Your winning streak is going down.” He announced.

“You want to join us, Lila?” She offered.

“Why?”

“Because your new and I want to get to know you.” Marinette answered honestly.

“Why?”

“Because we know you lied but still want to know you, the real you.” Adrien added.

“Why?” She asked suspiciously now.

“Question! Is it a felony to kidnap her to play video games, have snacks, get to know her, then let her go?”

“Well the kidnapping part is but if she goes willingly, I call that a hangout session.” Adrien mused.

“True, true.” She hummed. “So, what do you say, because now I am determined to get to know you.”

“Wh…”

“Kidnapping it is.” Adrien decided and grabbed the new girl’s wrist pulling her out of the library. Mari picking up their bags.

Lila herself wasn’t too bad once she started telling the truth, lying is a coping mechanism she created, because she is constantly moving schools, cities, and even countries. She is pretty interesting when she isn’t exaggerating. She was on a Hollywood movie set, but she was there on accident, she was looking for the bathroom in a restaurant and they were filming there that day. She did save a kitten on a tarmac once, but one it wasn’t Jagged Stones, it was a kitten who spooked out of their carrier and rushed down the stairs. Lila dove and caught it before it could leave the passenger unloading area to get the tram to the airport. (Some small airports unload passengers in a certain area of the tarmac and either shuttle them to the building or have a sectioned of walkway that is cleared for passengers, to walk back in only.)

After almost two hours Lila left for home when Adrien’s father called, and he was angry. Together she and Adrien ran back to the Agreste Mansion.

“Adrien!” Gabriel came out disheveled and slightly panicked. “And Miss Dupain-Cheng.” He slightly composed himself.

“Sorry I kept him.” She apologized. “He showed me this really cool book and you know how it is when inspiration hits.”

“Ah yes the inspiring fashion designer friend.” Adrien had walked up and handed his father the grimoire.

“It’s quite an interesting spell book.”

“You can read it?”

“Yes, I can. (Come on out little butterfly.)” Nooroo flew out from his hiding spot. “Hello kwamii of transmission and to you as well Hawkmoth.” She was calm deathly calm.

“How?!” Gabriel growled.

“Calm down. I have a question for you first. You want the jewels used by Ladybug and Chat Noir, why?”

“Would my answer change your plan of action to urn me into authorities and to the heroes?”

“My response may change, but you’ll have to answer to find out.”

“My wife wielder the peacock miraculous, it is broken, and she fell ill, and is in a comatose state.”

“Ah! So here is what is going to happen.” She took the grimoire from Gabriel and flipped over pages. “There is a way to revive her without resorting to using the wish.”

“How do you know this?”

She simply smiled. “You mind gathering these ingredients please Adrien?” She text him a list.

“Sure.”

“How do I know that this isn’t a ruse?”

“One I hate liars, and two because all magic has a cost, and this way is less than if you were to use the wish.”

“What do you mean cost?”

“Just like using your transformation wears on the kwamii, and the power affects your limit. Magic has its cost. The wish because it will always rewrite reality, the price is steep. Bringing back one life means you lose at minimum one other person from your life most likely more.”

“And this?”

“From what I understand. Everyone involved in the spell will have their energies deprecated so they will sleep for a day to a week.”

“Randomly?”

“No, the more people the less each person sleeps.”

“Here they are!” Adrien burst back in the room.

“Do you have the peacock miraculous?” Gabriel nodded. “Okay we’ll need that first, so lead the way to the kitchen.” Both men shuffled confused. “You do know where the kitchen is right?”

“Um well find it eventually.” Adrien chuckled. They were lucky and form it easily and Gabriel left while she and Adrien began to individually brew two separate potions. Adrien the more complex one for his mother’s revival. And she did the simpler one to fix the miraculous. Sue her Adrien is the better one in chemistry, sure he can’t cook to save himself, but he has a gift for chem, and Tikki help her she will teach him to cook. It’s practically edible chemistry, right?!

She took the Brock from Gabriel and fixed it, allowing Duusu out. “Okay so who is going to do this?”

“We will,” Adrien answered for himself and his Father, who nodded.

“Please let be help as well.” Miss Sancoeur offered.

Nooroo, Duusu, Tikki, and Plagg (they came out of hiding now) came to her. “We can help.”

She nodded and saw that Gabriel and Natalie were staring wide eyed between her and Adrien. She thought she heard Natalie say, ‘That explains so much’ but she isn’t sure.

Long story short they were able to wake up Emile, but she took back the peacock and butterfly, leaving Plagg with Adrien. Funnily enough the Agreste’s became a second family to her, once Gabriel finally grasped how to be a father. They told Paris that they had found Hawkmoth, but he would be tried by the order of Miraculous, meaning he would be stripped of the gem and his memories of the miraculous erased. It was a lie but Tikki told her that was what would have happened. There was some outcry, but they explained that they would have no recollection of it, and it wouldn’t make sense to try them.

The next few years of her life were blissfully normal, aside from the fact she had a contract under the Gabriel brand as the designer MDC, who was also endorsed by Style Queen. Chloe isn’t as bad as she puts on when she isn’t masking the hurt of being constantly ignored and bought by her parents.

- - -

It wasn’t until she was twenty-two and accompanying Adrien to a Wayne charity gala, one he didn’t want to go alone and two she was invited anyways, Chloe, Kagami, and Luka were also there on their own merits and invitations so they all stuck relatively together. Since arriving there Marinette was a constant pain, her arm burned and ached, but she forced herself to simply breathe and tried her hardest to push it out of her mind. But her luck wouldn’t hold, three hours into the event she was approached by who she recognized as Bruce Wayne, the host of the gala, and a woman to his left, the pain was almost unbearable the closer the two approached. Her friends noticed, they knew what her pain actually meant, as she opened up to them about it after a while, but she grit her teeth and tried to push through it.

“Mr. Agreste, Miss Bourgeois It is good to see you both again.” Bruce Wayne acknowledged. “It’s nice to meet all of you as well, Bruce Wayne.” He introduced to the rest, shaking hands. “And this is a good friend of mine.”

“Diana Prince.” She also went to shake everyone’s hands and had left Marinette for the last. The moment their hands touched she almost crumpled, she shrunk back and into Adrien and Chloe. “Is she okay?”

“Diana?” Bruce pointed towards her upper arm, the mark most of them overlooked before was now complete and glowing lightly. What Marinette remembered was that there was her yo-yo string and a golden rope that she only saw once before on her own arm. She felt sick, Diana was staring at her now, she recognized that Marinette was her soulmate.

“Melody?” Luka now stepped up.

“I want to leave.” She answered flatly.

“You are…”

She completely turned away, but by now her friends knew what was going on and were glaring at Diana. “I want to leave, now.” She repeated.

“Come on bug, let’s get you away from… this.” He threw a look at Diana, who was looking confused and seemingly alarmed.

The other three were putting as much space as they could between their friend and who is unknowingly causing her pain.

“Please is she alright?” Diana asked stepping forward barely grazing her hand covering her mark. This time it felt as if the skin itself was burning and stung almost like it was being pricked over and over and over again.

“Don’t touch me and stay away from me.” On the outside she looks clam and relaxed, but her voice was soft and raw, her eyes burned in pain. “You and that completed mark can stay far from me.”

“Luka, Kagami mind taking her back to the house?” The two in question led her away and once a safe distance away she broke down in tears, sobbing from the pain she was biting down.

- - -

The two that stayed were simultaneously glaring at her and watching their friends leave the gala.

“Is she alright?” Bruce finally bole the tension.

“As soon as she is far enough away from her.” The girl, Chloe, snapped at her. “Now that we know who is the the person causing her pain, we can keep her from them.” She snapped towards her, but it was a slap to Diana.

“I don’t follow. We are…”

“Soulmates, yeah we figured.” Adrien this time spoke.

“They why would she want to leave, without speaking?”

“One one in a million people are in pain when they are close to their soulmates.” Adrien spoke calmly but stoically. “No one knows why.” He began to fidget with a ring on hi# finger, she couldn’t recall if she saw any jewelry on her soulmate, Marinette, but she has a suspicion. After all she feels similar to her Mother’s aura and presence, that of a Ladybug.

“You are wrong. There is an explanation, but only a few know why that is.” She feels certain that she knows what this is.

“Let me guess you know why.” Chloe remarked, sarcastically and unamused.

“Allow me to explain this another time and place, as this is neither.”

“Fine call this number at noon est tomorrow.” Adrien handed her a phone number and the two turned and left.

“Diana?” Bruce snapped her attention. “What was that about?” He was still calm and collected but she knew he would be the one to ask, figuring out what was the next step, what had the best options of success.

“Magic.”

- - -

The next day she called the number and she was invited to a video call by the recipient. It turned out to be Marinette.

“Hello Diana.” Her voice was not cold but it was emotionless, as if she was forced into this conversation. Granted she did think she would be speaking with Adrien and Chloe.

“I never wanted to harm you, I swear that on the river Styx.” she began but before she could continue Marinette cut in.

“Let’s be clear, I don’t care about your apologies. I just want to know why this is happening and how to either get rid of it or to never have contact with you in any way or proximity.”

“I am apologizing because this is known as the curse of the ladybug and black cat.” She saw the young woman tense at that. “The reason I know of this is from by Mother, Queen Hippolyta Of the Amazon’s.” She allowed that to sink in and the other woman allowed her to drop her defense, nodding to what is said.

“When you say the curse of the ladybug and black cat what do you mean by that?”

“True souls of the miraculous, when in their life they come into contract with their given gems, cause a reaction.” Diana explained. “For the ladybug they receive the pain of their soulmate through their marks. Which is what I assume is going on.”

“Yes you’re right, but this has been going ever since I could remember.”

“Call it what you will fate, destiny, but you were always going to wield the ladybug jewel, that is why the curse manifested itself.”

“What about the black cat?”

“I am unsure, the black cat of my Mother’s time died before meeting their soulmate, but I would assume it would be similar to our situation.”

“Then how do we solve this?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @adrestar @miraculouspenta @vixen-uchiha @animegirlweeb @jumpingjoy82 @thedragonbug@astoriaandroses @icerosecrystal @t1dwarrior-of-earth @moon5606 @zalladane

[notagoodfather]

✥ CODES ✥

//Greetings! My name is Seth or you could call me Kakashi-sensei as well. I'm 33 years old and I’m from Brazil. I've been roleplaying for 11 years. About 4 years on forums, other websites and 7 years on tumblr.

I work at school so that’s mean pretty busy most of the time. So slow activity. Even so I hope you enjoy your stay!

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Read my rules before follow or interaction, please.

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I don't follow personal blogs. If you have rp sideblog. Just let me know and I will check it out.

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This blog will not engage in any kind of drama. I've done this in the past and pretty much had traumatic experiences out of it. If you're involved in some kind of drama and I find out about it later, you'll get a soft block or block depending. Don't insist and I hope you just respect it.

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I'm usually pretty open minded with most fandoms. But even so I have a small list that I don't want to interact with or I don't see my muse interacting. If you are a multimuse that has muses in one of theses fandoms it's ok. I'm just going to interact with your other muses. I ask you please respect and don't insist. Note that more can be added if needed.

The fandoms are these: Five nights at Freddy's, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Lazy town, Strange Things.

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If you have no page rules or bio about your muses. Even if they are canons, it will likely I’ll not follow or follow back your rp blog.

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No godmodding, please.

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I am not native English. So forgive me for some possible typos and grammatical errors.

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I don't roleplay on Discord. It's hard to get online there. And with my scarce time it gets even worse. So please I ask you to respect this.

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I ask you to trim your posts. I probably won't follow or I'll unfollow if you tend to do that. It ends up getting too much pollution in my dash and it's complicated to navigate on desktop and mobile.

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Most slow activity. Generally, my work takes up most of my time. Plus, other IRL stuff that makes me tired as well. Sorry for that. If you are the type of mun that cannot wait for a reply for so long or you want constant interaction between our muses(or even between muns) Please don't follow me. Always do what is most comfortable for you. But if you follow me, keep in mind that I work slowly most of the time ok?

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My writing style is semi para. At least 3 or more depending on the thread. I have no problem answering longer, even I like it. One-line is more for crack reply, few asks or short interactions. Please, keep that in mind before following me.  

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Any images or art don’t belong to me, obviously, but to their rightful owners.

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Smut threads will be replied to an NSFW side-blog. I’m fine with fade to black as well. Remember that smut is not a priority here. It may happen but I prefer other types too.

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I don't roleplay romance or smut with underage muses. But platonic relationships, like family, friends, guardian and teacher I don't see problems. As long as it doesn't go beyond that. If you insist, I block instantly.

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Trigger themes mentioned in this blog in the vast majority will be death, gore, murder, weapons, alcohol, smoke, suggestive sexual themes and religious themes. If you have a specific trigger feel free to remind me. Personal triggers are lolicon, pedophilia, incest, and rape. I ask that you tag these topics appropriately, please. As smut post too.

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These rules are not absolute. There might be changes, updates, or something removed at any moment.

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Thanks for reading this and I hope you have fun!

[admiringlove]

II: sneak; returning it like a detective.

— you try to return the book like a normal person would do, and a small nightly meeting with miya atsumu makes your heart bloom.

+pairing: miya atsumu x reader.

+genre: crossover(hq x hp); fluff; angst; frenemies to lovers.

+word count: 1.9k

+warnings: literally none. if you count idiot mcs then yes, that’s the warning. 

+usual customers(taglist): @babyworld @renee1414 @anotherhydrangea @seita @tobiosnoelle @weebslxt @tsukkiwaifu16 @loveusandoor @kozumebri @sarawrz @crackheadsara @kyuudere @cultsax @supernovaa-a @akaashikeijisan @b3llo-there @sugasloverr @kagebunshiin @tetsurolls @velvetfireworks @kritiiiii @1wai @seijohlogy​ @sweetrosemilktea @bellesowl @ems1des​ @akaashi-todorki @tanaka-ryu​

+author’s notes: send an ask to be added to the taglist!! these chapters may be short but that just means there will be more of them ;) 

+navigation: previous, masterlist, next.

You figure that you could return the book safely to Atsumu's room tonight; before the two of you meet up at the Black Lake, you were going to sneak to the boys' dormitory and place the book under his bed.

You were beleaguered. The paranoid feeling ate away at you as you pulled on a woolen jumper—along with your green scarf, the invisibility cloak Atsumu had gifted you long ago, and boots when Kiyoko suddenly got up from her slumber.

"You've been paranoid all day," the girl reached for her glasses, speaking in an ingenue tone. Your eyes widened at her sudden voice as you turned to face her. You were just about to leave your room to head down the stairs when she spoke up.

"Erm... y-you noticed?" you asked in lassitude. She chuckled as she ran a hand through her hair, pushing the duvet down by her feet as she sat crisscrossed on her bed.

"You've been anxious. I saw you looking at the door again and again in Potions when you got partnered with Miya. You barely paid attention to what I was saying at dinner, and when we got back, you were pacing back and forth in the bathroom. Thank Salazar the other girls were downstairs talking to people," her mellifluous voice soothing your anxiety a bit, as you sighed out loud.

"I guess..." you mused, "—it's 'Tsumu."

"Figures," she giggled a bit, pushing her glasses up as she runs a hand through her hair once again, waiting for you to explain.

"H-he's in love with this... girl. I read through his diary last night. I found it yesterday," you mumble in rue, as your voice cracks just a smidge—telling Kiyoko everything she needed to know. She nods in realization, "I'm guessing you only realized it now?"

"It's stupid of me, isn't it? I can't wrap my head around the fact that he's been in love with another girl this whole time, and I-I've just... not realized it," you hummed in distress as you avoided eye-contact with the raven-haired girl in front of you, her cerulean eyes giving you a gaze which you didn't really understand.

"Hm, so you're returning the book tonight?" she asked. You nodded and continued, "Yes, and er... Atsumu asked me to meet him by the Black Lake. He should already be there by now, so I can just sneak into his room and leave the book there."

"I won't keep you waiting then," she gave you a half-smile, an indication that she'd talk to you about the matter at hand later. She didn't want t Yo pry, and you were grateful for that fact as you quietly tip-toed to Atsumu's room.

Muttering the unlocking charm, "Alohomora," you entered Miya Atsumu's dormitory, to find multiple boys sleeping there—Suna, Aran, Osamu, Sakusa—You quietly moved under your cloak, and crouched down low, pushing the book under Atsumu's bed and getting up as soon as possible. You walked out of his room—the cloak still atop your head—as you stopped dead in your tracks.

Miya Atsumu was standing at the bottom of the staircase, and with each step, he was coming closer to you. You quietly tip-toed towards another door, standing eerily still as you swished your wand at the piss-haired boy's dorm, "Colloportus."

He fumbled with his pockets for a second, then mumbling a "shit" in realization as he pulled his wand out of his boot. He went in.

You take this as your chance of fleeing the scene; you really didn't want to get caught by Miya Atsumu outside his room, nor did you didn't think you wanted to explain to him what you were doing there. You made your way towards the Black Lake, turning left from the Forbidden Forest.

You could've sworn you saw a fox in the distance—a yellow fox just staring at you from a mile away. You shook the feeling away because when you walked towards the deck at the Black Lake, Atsumu was already there(he was panting heavily, which meant he had run all the way here).

"There ya are!" Atsumu raised his eyebrows, his hands on his thighs as he bent down, trying to catch his breath. You chuckled as you ruffled his hair, "Here I am."

"Here," he handed you a small bag. You smiled at how considerate his expression seemed and took the bag from his hands hesitantly. He gestured for you to open it as the two of you sat crisscross under a tree.

"Is that..Miya! You went all the way to Hogsmeade even though it's our first day at school? How did you even—" You gasped, "It's No-Melt Ice-Cream! Ooh, and Treacle Fudge!"

Your worries seemed to fade away for the night as the boy in front of you gazed at you with the softest expression as you dug into the ice-cream and divided the Treacle Fudge neatly into two—one for him, and one for you. Sighing, you slowly laid on your back, looking at the boy next to you with a giggle escaping your plump lips.

"What?"

"I could've sworn I saw a fox back there. It was the same as your piss-hair!" you laughed, clutching to your stomach. His carob eyes softened as they glazed over your petite figure, widening a bit when he heard you speak those words. He tried his best to hide his expression, but you noticed it anyway. Though you didn’t want to pry, the teasing would have to wait for the morning as his chatoyant gaze on the dots in the sky was too pleasant to miss.

"A... fox?" he spoke quietly, "Really?"

You hummed in agreement as he laid down next to you, turning his head softly. Even in the night, his eyes lit the way, as if he was a seer. You wanted this moment to last, but you knew you couldn't be selfish. After all, he loved someone dearly.

He loved someone that wasn't you.

"Hey, you remember we were brewing Amortentia today, right?" you asked, poking his shoulder slightly. He mumbled a small "yes" and you continued, "There was a really pretty girl there. She was a Ravenclaw, and she had red hair, do you know her name?"

"Why in Salazar's name are ya asking for a girl's name? Are ya attracted to her?" he joked, as you shoved his shoulder. You shyly brushed your hair away from your face, looking up at the full moon. It was now that you realized; there was no backing out now.

"No, you idiot. I was thinking of setting her up with you so you'd stop irritating me every minute of every damned day," you groaned. He stopped and blinked for a second, his lissome expression turning dissemble as you looked at him with inquisitive eyes to hear his response.

"I wouldn't think I'm fit for a relationship," he says, looking at the vast hues of azure and ink sprayed with tiny white dots in the expanse. He sighed—his heavy heart made it seem like he was dangling from a tower, ready to drop any second. He couldn't hold his feelings in any longer.

What was he supposed to do, anyway? You were trying to set him up with a girl when he was clearly in love with someone. And his insecurities would get the best of him. It felt like no matter how fast he ran, no matter what spell he cast to keep himself safe from them, they caught up every time.

He could feel a lump form in his throat as you looked at him innocently, your lips parted just a tad bit, and raising an eyebrow as to why such a bitter response had left his mouth.

He inhaled, "I'm too carefree. I think the other person wouldn't like me after a certain amount of time because my personality is just... y'know? And plus, I'm mean to basically everyo—"

You took his hand in yours, intertwining your delicate fingers with his as if he were a gossamer. It felt like untying a knot; only, this time it felt like your life depended upon the tangled thread. Your love was only incipient; his had already lasted for a couple of years, and you didn't want for the boy you loved to sacrifice his happiness for yours.

"Are you?" you asked, your voice barely audible, "Are you really mean?"

"I-I would like to think so, yeah," he nodded.

"What if I say I don't think so? You brought me snacks because I was sad, that too from Hogsmeade, even though it's the first day of school. You apologize to me every time you cross a line. You make sure I'm not fazed by whatever shit you pull. How is any of this not compassionate? Honestly, you think too lowly of yourself," You smiled, ruffling his hair as he looked at you with his eyes slightly wide, and his expression displaying shock.

He definitely hadn't expected such words from you, of all people. He felt like a ghost in a world of paper-dolls—sticking out like a sore thumb, but being happy because he's the only one who gets to experience the true comfort of the dark.

"Y-yer saying way too many nice things in one night, [Y/N]," he looked away, bringing a hand up to his face to hide the bush of roses underneath his cheeks.

"Maybe you deserve it, Miya."

You didn't expect the night to go that well. Your heart was efflorescent; it felt like a small bud was slowly blooming into a fully-grown flower in your palms.

"I take it the meeting with Miya went well?" Kiyoko asked, a small smile on her lips as you walked with her to DADA class. You nodded, a slight blush on your cheeks as you passed a couple of friends, "It's a shame, though. He's in love with someone else."

"How do you know if you've only read the first page of his diary?" she deadpanned, "Maybe the person he loves is you. You didn't see the other pages, right?"

"Well, that's because I value privacy!" you bemoaned, seating yourself as you huffed in annoyance, "And it's mean if I just uncover his secrets."

"Oh come on, you would've never thought you're subconsciously in love with a boy if you never found out he actually loved someone," she narrowed her eyes at you questioningly, knowing that she's correct. You sighed in defeat, letting your shoulders fall as you paid attention in class.

Maybe you wanted to know who Miya Atsumu was in love with. Just so you could prove someone wrong.  

When you were heading to dinner that night, someone poked your shoulder.

"Hey, slug," Atsumu nudged your shoulder lightly, you giving him a chuckle in response. His raised eyebrow and a teasing expression playing at his features. A winsome, yet sly smile playing at his lips as if he was hiding something.

"What?" you asked, a quick smirk of your own forming. He shrugged lightly before speaking, "Erm.. you know how Quidditch is starting soon?"

"Yes," you murmured, continuing to walk to the Great Hall at a much slower pace than before. Your desultory expression made him whine—causing you to let out a small chuckle.

"Okay, so I was wondering if you'd help me with the try-outs? I'm the captain this year since Kita-san graduated last year. 'Samu, Omi and Suna won't help anyway, and you're the seeker, so I was thinking—"

"I'll do it," you nodded, "But only if you buy me more Treacle Tarts."

"Say what, [Y/N], if you can catch the snitch in under 5 minutes, I'll buy you as many Treacle Tarts as you want."

"Oh, you're on."

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Your Hands Hold Home: Chapter Eleven

@lukadrien-june

Read it on AO3: Your Hands Hold Home: Chapter Eleven: Soulmates

The summer afternoon drifted by peacefully as Luka and Adrien sat up on the deck of the Liberty, basking in the warmth of the sun.

Luka was trying to figure out the bridge to the song he was writing about Adrien while Adrien lounged in a nearby deckchair reading Sailor Moon.

Luka just so happened to look up and find tears streaming down Adrien’s cheeks.

“Hey. You all right?” he called in concern.

“Oh. Sorry,” Adrien chuckled sheepishly, swiping at the tear tracks. “I’m fine. Just thinking too much and being overly sentimental.”

Luka set aside his violin and pulled his chair over next to Adrien’s.

“Hey.” He rested a hand on Adrien’s forearm. “Don’t dismiss your feelings like that. That’s your father talking, and he’s wrong.”

Adrien’s gaze dropped to the manga in his lap. “It doesn’t feel like he’s wrong, though. I feel silly.”

“Talk to me?” Luka urged gently, trying not to press too hard.

It was a fine line to walk between supportive and pushy with Adrien. He wanted Adrien to open up to him on his own terms, because Adrien genuinely wanted to confide in him.

It was difficult, however, because Adrien was used to bowing to others’ demands, and Luka didn’t want to accidentally force Adrien into speaking because Adrien thought that that was what Luka wanted.

Adrien was a people pleaser and likely to steamroll over his own boundaries if he thought it would make others happy.

“Only if you want to talk about it,” Luka added softly, giving Adrien’s arm a squeeze. “I’m here for you, okay?”

Adrien bit his lip and turned to gauge Luka’s reaction. “…Do you… Do you believe in soulmates?”

Luka blinked and thought about the question for a moment before answering honestly. “I think they’re a lovely idea. It’s nice to think that, out there somewhere, there’s someone made especially for you…but I don’t actually think the world works that way.”

“Oh,” Adrien breathed, expression carefully neutral. “Why is that…do you think?”

Luka shrugged. “I’m also kind of a rebel. I don’t like it when other people make decisions for me, so I don’t really like the idea of the universe setting me up with someone without my consent. The choice of a life-mate is probably the most important decision you can make; I want some say in that.”

“Oh,” Adrien repeated, considering Luka’s points. “I mean…I can see that, but…what makes you think that they don’t exist?”

“Life experience,” Luka answered with a sheepish smile. “I’ve been in love a couple times, and there have been a few different people I could see making a life with. I read somewhere once that there were maybe twenty different people that any given person could be compatible with, and I think that’s true. I mean, off the top of my head, I can think of two people I’d consider as ‘soulmates’ for myself.”

Adrien’s expression darkened. He could easily guess that one of Luka’s potential “soulmates” was Marinette. The other, he suspected, was XY, and the thought made his stomach roil with jealousy and hurt.

“I think the idea of soulmates is nice,” Luka continued, missing the shift in Adrien’s mood, “but I don’t believe in them. I like to think that I make my own decisions. Besides, what about people who aren’t interested in romance or relationships? Do they just not have soulmates or are their soulmates more of a queerplatonic arrangement or…?”

Luka trailed off as he noted the sour look cutting into Adrien’s face. “I’m sorry. Was that the wrong answer?”

Adrien’s head jerked up. “What?”

“Sorry,” Luka repeated. “I didn’t mean to try to shove my views down your throat. And I could totally be wrong. I’m certainly not some kind of supreme deity or anything, so who am I to say that there’s no such thing as soulmates? I didn’t mean to insult you if you believe in soulmates.”

Adrien shook his head, waving away Luka’s concern. “No. It’s fine. You didn’t insult me. I just…”

He bit the inside of his lips, eyes tracing the picture on the manga cover in his lap. “I used to think that Ladybug was my soulmate. I mean…we were supposed to be ‘two halves of the same whole’ and all that, but…”

He shook his head again, a dark smile tugging at his lips. “It was just wishful thinking. She was never interested in me like that, and the truth is that the previous Guardian just randomly picked the two of us, so it’s not like it was some grand plan of the universe or anything. It was just luck and coincidence. I was fooling myself.”

“Adrien…” Luka whispered, tightening his hold on Adrien’s forearm.

Adrien looked up and slapped on a fake grin. “Besides, there’s no hope for a relationship with her now that it turns out my father was our arch nemesis this whole time. I’m a complete failure as a hero, Luka. I was living under the same roof as Papillon, and I had no idea for half a decade. There’s no way—”

“—Stop,” Luka commanded, standing and pulling Adrien to his feet as well.

The Sailor Moon manga tumbled to the deck, pages flapping.

“Just stop, okay?” Luka tugged Adrien into a hug, squeezing him tightly.

“Stop and breathe and quit being so mean to yourself,” Luka instructed.

The tension quickly flowed out of Adrien’s body, and he melted into the embrace.

“Marinette would never rule you out as a romantic partner just because of your father,” Luka stressed, wishing he could make Adrien see reason. “And you’re not a failure as a hero. How many times do I have to tell you how amazing you are?”

“At least once more,” Adrien chuckled mirthlessly into Luka’s chest.

“You’re amazing, Adrien,” Luka insisted. “If Plagg were here, he’d say the same thing. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t know about your father. How could you know when he always kept himself shut up like he did? You hardly saw the guy. No one can blame you for what happened. Marinette certainly doesn’t.”

Adrien nodded lethargically. “Yeah. I know. I just…it’s hard not to be down on myself.”

“Yeah,” Luka whispered. “Yeah, I know, but try to hang in there and think positive.”

Adrien made a halfhearted noise of agreement.

Luka squeezed tighter. “You’re going to be okay. You’re a magnificent person, P5, and, someday, you’re going to meet someone amazing who sees how special you are.”

“…Like how you do?” Adrien inquired, pulling back just enough to catch Luka’s reaction.

Surprise flitted across Luka’s face and was then replaced by a warm smile. “Yeah. Just like how I do.”

Adrien laughed, resting his head back on Luka’s shoulder. “No one sees the good in me like you do, Orpheus.”

Luka gave in and indulged himself a little by resting his head on top of Adrien’s. “In that case, I’ll be your soulmate, if you want. I mean, if no one else is vying for the position.”

“The job’s yours if you want it,” Adrien replied in a way that implied that he thought no one in their right mind would want the position.

“It’s funny how, just a month ago, I had fans willing to literally maim and kill for a chance to get close to me…but, now, no one’s interested,” he mused.

Luka shook his head. “Well, now you know who your true friends are, at least.”

“There’s not a lot of people left standing,” Adrien observed glumly.

“But the ones who are are good ones.” Luka tried to help Adrien shift his perspective. “You’ve got Nino and Alya…Chloé, Kagami, Wayem, Marinette, Rose, Juleka… And your classmates are sticking by you, aren’t they? The people who really know you are still on your side.”

“…Yeah,” Adrien agreed, slowly warming to the idea. “I guess you’re right…. And there’s you. I haven’t lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” Luka promised. “…Maybe we need to have some of your friends over. I know you call and text and go places to hang out with them, but you’ve been here almost three weeks, and you haven’t had anyone over yet. You should call Nino and have bro time.”

Adrien looked up again. “Really? That would be okay?”

Luka laughed. “You see how people regularly wander in and out of this houseboat. Do you think anyone would care if you had some friends over?”

Adrien considered this for a moment. “…No?”

Luka nodded. “No. No one would care. You should see if Nino’s doing anything and have him over to hang out.”

Adrien bit his lip. “Would you hang out with us too?”

Luka shrugged. “If you want me there.”

A bright smile stretched across Adrien’s lips. “Yeah. I’d like if we could all spend time together. I’d like you to get to know my friends better.”

Luka’s eyes widened as he was pleasantly surprised by Adrien’s words. “Yeah. I’d…I’d like that too.”

“I mean, you should know them if I’m going to marry you someday,” Adrien teased, pulling away with a wink.

Luka choked. “What?”

“You know. Since you’ve volunteered to be my soulmate.” Adrien scooped up his book and stuck out his tongue as he started to make his way back below deck.

Luka stared after him for a good minute as all kinds of metaphorical fireworks went off.

It killed him when Adrien flirted.

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 32

THE ROAD SO FAR

Mr. and Mrs. MacTavish

Francine "France" Winters

MacTavish Residence, Glasgow Scotland

3:46 AM

Francine squinted her eyes as she checked her phone, the bright light illuminated her whole visage. No new messages. John promised her he'd text her as soon as the mission was over. According to their briefing, the recon mission should've ended about four hours ago.

She shifted her position and turned to Maxine who looked sound asleep. A soft smile escaped her lips once she realized that Maxine was safe within her reach.

She forced her eyes to close again but couldn't quite get the sleep she needed. She wondered if John ever got tired running in her mind. After failing her last attempt to get some sleep, she slowly got up and made her way to the kitchen for some milk.

Much to her surprise, the kitchen lights were open and Samantha sat on the dining table, her chin rested on her arms as she stared on her phone.

"Can't sleep?" France asked and it shocked Samantha a little.

"Yeah. He's supposed to text me three hours ago. Now I can't help but worry." Samantha groaned in frustration.

"John promised that too…" she slowly placed her phone on the table and it beeped. The womens eyes widened as France excitedly unlocked her phone.

Her smile almost reached the heavens but soon after reading the notification, she suddenly went back to her frown.

"What was it?" Samantha asked, raising her head and looked at Francine.

"A software update notification." Francine sighed and went to grab a glass of milk.

"Say, France… has it ever crossed your mind that John would be the one you'll end up marrying?" Samantha asked. Francine's cheeks burned immediately at the idea as she envisioned herself living in a house with three children with mohawks running around. She wasn't ready for all of it but she's blushing at the sheer idea of it as if she liked it.

"Umm… uh.. I'm not sure. Sam." her tone was really suspicious, as if hiding something and making up blatant lies. She just wished Samantha couldn't see through her.

"Sorry for that kind of question. It's just that… I think that Alex is the one for me… that's why I'm this worried about him. I couldn't sleep knowing he's not beside me…" Samantha explained while pondering her situation. If that was the case for her, then France's insomnia could also mean that she's…

"I guess it's normal to feel that way…" France defended, downing a half full glass of milk.

"You've been with him for quite some time and you both admittedly loved each other, that's why you showed concern toward him." She continued.

"So, that goes to you too? Right?" Samantha asked. France once again got cornered by her own train of thought.

"Look. Yes. I'm concerned about John too… he's…" she smiled.

"He's something else… I'm far too ready to reopen myself to a relationship and he actually told me he was willing to wait and be a friend in need." she continued, now her heart was beating slowly but fluttering at the idea of her thoughts. John was willing to wait. That meant that she could have all the time at her disposal until she was ready to love again. But such time needed was already up, as she was already denying the inevitable feeling of love she was projecting toward the Scotsman.

"Sounds like you're already ready." Samantha teased.

"No I'm not!" France immediately dismissed her, grabbed her phone and went back to bed.

"As a matter of fact, I'll sleep right now!" She said as Samantha just laughed and waved goodnight.

France slowly paced in front of John's room. She felt as if there was a huge magnet pulling her towards it and the longer her phone doesn't ring, the more convinced she was to get in. Succumbing to temptation, she pushed the doors open and sneaked her way in.

His room was always her favorite place in the house. It showcased a lot of his personality that no one could ever see in him. Landscape drawings and sketches filled the room. Football jerseys with autographs were framed on the walls along with photos with his favorite athletes.

At first glance, everyone would say that John MacTavish had it all, but when you're staring at his eyes while having a heart to heart talk, you would know that that isn't all true. He didn't have it all.

France saw his black journal by the bed. It was strange that he didn't bring it for his mission. Last time you asked him what's inside, he just chuckled and said "mission details", showing a sketch of Price labeled 'caterpillar moustache'.

France was then again tempted to open the page where he left off, showing a beautifully sketched face of her, occupying the whole page.

"Tough on the outside, soft in the inside. Just like me." was written on the corner of the page.

"I knew that you saw through me the moment we met…" She whispered as she closed the journal and yawned, crashing on his huge bed they both shared days ago when she needed someone to talk to. Covering herself with the thick covers, she inhaled the signature MacTavish scent which still lingered on his bed and it was actually effective enough to lull her to sleep. It's as if he was there beside her.

France woke up as soon as it came to her senses that Maxine would be looking for her. Throwing the covers away, she immediately rushed back to her room. Pulling the door open and sneaking her way back.

The silent clattering of the plates and casual conversations filled the kitchen. Jack was talking about some of his experiences while Samantha and Maxine were giggling. Much to her curiosity regarding the two unknown voices, both male and female, she slowly descended the staircase and peeked.

Aside from Jack, Samantha and Maxine, there was a man and a woman, possibly married, who sat together by the table. She actually felt nervous once her sight landed on the man. If he was younger, his resemblance with John would be almost accurate. And judging by that look, Francine leaned to the idea that this was John's father.

John's father had the physical qualities of a Scotsman but the appeal of a western businessman. His accent was almost not Scottish.

"Ahh. I miss my home so much. Do you mind if I let loose a little?" Mr. MacTavish asked and his wife, judging by the body language of holding on his hands, chuckled at his idea.

"Don't worry. It's your home. You should feel comfortable." Jack replied with a smile.

With a deep sigh, Mr. MacTavish actually let loose and exhaled a very deep ramble in s heavy Scottish accent. His wife replied with the same energy and everyone cackled. France was amazed at how easygoing his parents were and it told a lot about John's upbringing.

"Ooh! Looks like our other guest woke up!" Mrs. MacTavish mused upon making eye contact with France.

"So Maxine, this is your sister?" Mr. MacTavish.

"Yes, Mr. Jonathan. It's Francine." Maxine answered and France waved and smiled at the MacTavishes. Her whole body felt awkwardly nervous. She felt like this was the 'Meet the Parents' part, except they weren't really a thing… yet.

"Nice to finally meet you, Sir Jonathan and Ma'am…" France shook his hand and paused at Mrs. MacTavish.

"It's Julianne." She smiled and shook her hand. For a moment, Francine actually felt her heartwarming touch as she slowly eased the nervousness away.

"Don't be scared of us dear. We don't bite." She smiled and Francine smiled back. When John told her about how serene he felt around his mother, he wasn't joking. Her aura was powerful.

"Honey, looks like there are a lot more women in the force nowadays. Have you ever wondered if our boy John has liked any of them?" he asked playfully while France was trying her hardest not to choke on her orange juice. It looks like Max and Samantha were just giggling on their own.

"Well dear, why don't we leave it up to John to introduce us to her." She chuckled and held her husband's hand.

"Where is he anyway?" Jonathan looked back by the door.

"He's still on a mission." France answered and everyone else looked at her.

"What I mean is, they are still on their way home." She corrected, stuttering as she replied.

"Well, it's such a shame we had to leave now. Duty calls!" Jonathan stood up and everyone followed them to the front door, waving their goodbyes. France shyly followed behind them and joined the group as they sent their goodbyes to John's parents.

As soon as the car left their sights, everyone else eased and released the pressure they felt.

"Woooah. Soap has some nice parents. I thought they'll get mad at us for crashing in!" Maxine said, sitting beside France.

"Well, Soap just proved to us that not all businessmen are evil, despite what television suggests." Jack added and yawned. It was still early and he already planned on sleeping.

Samantha sat there and stared at her phone. France checked hers too and called her attention.

"I didn't get any texts from him. But I assure you, they'll be here soon."

"So, tell me how worried you were when I didn't text." John smugly asked France while he emerged from the showers, a clean white towel was the only thing wrapping his body.

France just sat by the bed, her whole body facing opposite John. Her brows still furrowed at the idea that he wasn't able to text her that they finished the mission without harm.

Their arrival earlier was not quite the arrival she expected. Her heart was supposed to flutter at the sight of John, but instead sadness filled the whole house. Alexandra Ryder was gone, and it would be too rude to reach for his embrace at the time of mourning.

"I wasn't worried one bit." She spat and crossed her arms. He could hear John laughing a little and she wanted to look at him, but his stubbornness needed to be fixed, that is if she could.

"Really? Then how come I heard from Samantha that you were up at three-" France quickly turned to her back in an attempt to stop his trail of thought, but she was surprised that John's face was already close to hers as he was crawling towards her while he talked.

France's world paused for a little as her eyes met his, gaze locked on his icy blue stare as her heart started to beat differently and her ears started to heat up, and lips slowly formed a smile.

Her eyes trailed down to his lips, where it also happened to curve differently. He was smiling and it never occurred to her that John had smiled like that before. Her lips involuntarily pouted as she felt John's face inch closer to hers, as she slowly closed her eyes and let the Scotsman take over her lips.

The first kiss was quick, their lips just met each other for a short while and they both backed up, eyes locked on to each other, both sparkling and wanting for more.

"Fine." France whispered and reached for his cheek.

"I can't stop worrying about you, dumbass." she added and John let out a soft chuckle, leaning in for another kiss, but this time it was more than they both wanted. This time it felt like they were released from all the things constraining them. France actually gave in to him for the second time, and she was glad that she did this, because John sure was a very good kisser.

Next Chapter : The Broken Ship

Notification Squad my Beloved

@beemybee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @smokeywhalee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

[loubuggins]

Girlfriend

A/N: This story was inspired by an idea given to me by @zuppizup. Thank you, friend! As always, please read and review! 

Summary: The misunderstanding that he was sure would have come around at some point in their relationship and here it was. The inevitable cultural clash. “Rayla, do you know what girlfriend means?”

The first time she heard the word, it had caught her off guard. She and Callum were sitting on the steps leading to the Dragon Queen’s chamber, going about their usual verbal sparring.

“There's no way me ears are that big.” She scolded him as she glared at the open pages of his journal. She looked pointedly at his latest creation, a sketch of her petting Zym in the very spot they were currently sitting in. He had been adding details to the drawing while they cuddled together, enjoying the rare moment of quiet.

“I didn’t make them big.” He defended himself. “Only pointed, because they are.”

The elf shook her head in disapproval. “Ya made them almost as long as me head!”

For added emphasis, she waved a hand beside her face, gesturing to her actual ears. The boy looked up from his drawing and studied her for a second. His green eyes darkened as he concentrated on the body part in question. His stare was a little unnerving to the girl, but he seemed to either ignore or simply not notice the way she began to squirm and awkwardly try to catch his gaze. After what felt like hours, the young artist looked back to his page. His eyes then flickered back and forth between his sketch and his muse. She could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he took her critique seriously and compared his work with the real thing.

His lips finally parted as he appeared to be preparing a retort, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sudden interruption of one of their friends.

“Hey, Callum!” The familiar voice of Soren, a Crown Guard, called out to them from across the foyer. In his large arms, he held baskets filled with bread and fruits. “Quit flirting with your girlfriend and come help me feed the troops!”

The younger boy blushed and sighed as he closed his book. “Duty calls.” He mumbled to her, a hint of an apology behind his words. He handed her the leather-bound pages and placed a quick kiss on her cheek before standing up to meet Soren outside. She returned his gesture with a small smile and watched him go.

It had only been a few days since the final battle against Viren and his mutated army. Many of those who had fought in the battle were still camping at the base of the Storm Spire. The Spire itself could only house so many people, not to mention how difficult it would be for Callum and Ibis to perform the special breathing spell on all those people. So they found it best to let the armies rest on the ground before they returned to their proper homes. Thanks to Callum’s new ability to sprout wings where his arms should be, it had made traveling from the top of the Spire down to the ground and back up again much quicker than taking the endless stairs. However, his skill also meant he had to be gone at different times throughout the day, which made alone time all the more difficult.

But their lack of bonding time was not what gripped her thoughts as she sat alone on the top step. Instead, there was a word that the older blonde had used that replayed in her mind on a loop.

Girlfriend?

The word made no sense. Sure it may be easier to say than “the girl who is your friend” or “your friend that happens to be a girl.” But it still sounded wrong. Besides, she was not just Callum’s friend. She had it on a pretty solid record that her relationship with the human mage was well beyond that of just being friends. Perhaps Soren was just unaware of the change in their status? It seemed hard to believe, even for someone as slow to the mark as Soren. They weren’t hiding their relationship and Callum always seemed so eager to tell people that they were now “a thing” as he referred to it.

“But why else would he call me Callum’s girlfriend?”

The question nagged at her as she left her spot and went to return her love’s sketchbook to his room for safekeeping.

~#~#~

She had honestly forgotten about the word after that. At some point in her thinking, she had finally decided that it was no more than just Soren’s playful teasing of the teenage prince and left it at that. She had meant to ask Callum about it later, but when he finally returned, the question had slipped her mind.

It was not until two days later that she remembered and this time, the strange word was used by Callum himself. It was deliberate too. The humans were preparing to leave the Spire and begin their journey back to the human kingdoms. It was her first time back on the ground since she first climbed the steep steps of the mountain with Callum, Ezran, and Zym. Callum had wanted to come to say his goodbyes and had invited her along. She did not know many humans, but she was familiar with a few by this point. She especially wanted to spend every second she still could with Callum’s brother, who had become like a little brother to her as well. So she had agreed to join him, even if leaving Zym was making her anxious.

When they had first arrived at the temporary camp, they helped with the packing. Though Ezran was a King now and Callum was still a Prince, they all still felt the need to lend a helping hand in the cleanup. As the three were working on wrapping up a tent, they were interrupted by a group of somewhat familiar-looking humans. Corvus she remembers, the burly brown man kept his confident stance beside a woman leading them toward the three kids. She could not name the woman, but her white robes and pointed look made her seem like someone of significance. On the woman’s other side was Callum’s Aunt Amaya, who Rayla probably knew best among the group. She respected the general and she was glad that the feeling seemed mutual now.

Ezran was the first to look up and acknowledge them. He greeted them with a polite smile and nod, stopping what he had been doing to meet up with them. Rayla stared at them for a moment, then shrugged and went back to helping Callum fold the fabric of the tent. She figured it was just “Kingly Business” that did not concern her. That was until the woman in white called out Callum’s name. They had just put away the remainder of the tent, so the prince moved to join the other humans. On instinct, Rayla moved to follow him, then quickly stopped herself. This was probably a human thing. Part of his royal duties. It was strange to think of him like royalty. Sure she would frequently mock his royal title, but to her, he was just Callum. An up and coming mage who loved to joke around, doodle in his book, and talk about his feelings. He was her best friend and the only person she has ever fallen in love with. He was a prince, yes, but she saw him as so much more.

She was surprised when he stopped just a few steps ahead of her and turned to give her an expectant smile. He even held out his hand to her, waiting for her to come along. She was not sure if she was actually welcomed to participate in whatever conversation the humans were having, but Callum made it clear that he would not be joining them without her. With a grin on her face, she ran up beside him and eagerly took his hand into hers.

They approached the group of adults together, stopping to stand at Ezran’s side. Rayla studied their faces to try and gauge their reactions to seeing her. Corvus looked perplexed as he stared at her and Callum’s intertwined hands, but he did not seem to disapprove. Amaya gave the young couple a knowing look instead, along with a small smile. The only person Rayla has yet to meet was the blonde woman who had called them over here, but if she was surprised to see an elf and a human holding hands, she did not show it.

“Prince Callum,” the older woman greeted respectfully, adding a short bow that made Rayla feel slightly awkward. “I am saddened to hear you will not be returning to Katolis with us.”

The boy gave her a polite nod in return. “I wish I could come back and help Ezran, but we’ve talked about it and we agree I am more needed here.”

The woman nodded in understanding. “Yes, with your new elf companion.” Her eyes fell on the elf in question. “Well, I hope you know she is welcome to return with you. Do not feel that you must stay behind to be with her.”

Rayla’s hand tightened around Callum’s and her friendly demeanor began to crack. Heat rose in the boy’s cheeks and he quickly exchanged a look with his elven counterpart.

“Oh erm uh, thank you Opeli, I’m glad to hear that. But the main reason we are staying is to take care of Zym. Rayla and I will be putting together a new Dragon Guard. I’m also going to try learning some more magic while I’m here too.”

Opeli regarded the couple thoughtfully, their discomfort clearly unknown to the advisor. “Of course. Might I add, Prince Callum, that your friend and I have not been formally introduced.”

“Oh, right!” The boy looked apologetic as he gestured his free hand over to the girl at his side. “Rayla, this is Opeli. She’s a royal advisor to the King and a member of Ezran’s council.” He then waved his hand over to the blonde. “Opeli, this is Rayla, my...girlfriend.”

He said the word slowly as if he were tasting the word on his lips and enjoying hearing the sound of it. His chest swelled and his posture straightened as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. The silly mage was practically beaming and for what Rayla did not understand. For she was incredibly pissed.

~#~#~

“Girlfriend, eh? Is that really all you see me as?”

She had been giving him the cold shoulder since their conversation with Ezran’s royal council and Callum had been trying to fix whatever he had said or done wrong to upset her so much ever since. But the poor prince was struggling to get it out of her all day. At least until they reached her empty room in the Storm Spire, where she finally felt comfortable enough to voice her frustrations. Though Callum still wore a look of utter confusion as she glared at him with her arms crossed over her chest, awaiting his response.

But all he could sputter out was a befuddled “What?”

Rayla let out an indignant sigh. “I know us being together is weird to people.” She began as she started pacing the room. “ I know not everyone is going to approve. It will be plenty hard for me to tell Ethari and the rest of Silvergrove about us, but I wasn’t going to lie to them, Callum. I was going to tell them the truth about us, even if I'd be the first elf in history to be ghosted twice!” She came to a halt just inches in front of him and held up two fingers for added emphasis.

“Wait, Rayla, what are you talking about?” He blinked at her as his mind raced to keep up.

“I’m talking about how I love you enough that I’m not afraid of others knowing about it. And up until now, I thought that you weren’t either, but clearly, I was wrong.” She bit back as she folded her arms again. This time her angry stare came with a few tears pulling in the corners of her eyes, threatening to roll down her flushed cheeks.

Callum hated seeing her like this. He did not understand what was causing her so much anguish, but he could not stand being a part of it. He felt his own anger begin to bubble up in his chest, but it was more so at himself than at her.

“Rayla, what do you mean? Of course, I’m not afraid of that! I was the one who asked you if we should tell the Dragon Queen just a week ago! And I told Ez, and my Aunt Amaya, and Ibis, and...and...Rayla I’ve told everyone about us!” He flailed his hands in the air as he looked on to her with exasperation.

His dramatic flair did nothing to dampen her hardened glare. “Yes, but only as your girlfriend.” She stressed out the friend part of the word with the venom of a Soulfang.

Callum blinked at her, his baffled look not leaving his face. “Yes, my girlfriend. What else would I call you? Is there some Moonshadow elf word for girlfriend I should know about?”

The elf gave him an indignant scuff. “We simply call it ‘a friend.’” She bit back in retort.

The mage just stared at her and his voice dropped low. “But Rayla, you’re so much more to me than just a friend.”

Rayla’s hard stare faltered silently at the shift of his tone. She shuffled her weight and crossed her arms over her chest. With her eyes downcast, she spoke up again, softly this time, “If I am, then why do ya keep callin’ me your friend?”

Callum straightened and his mouth fell a gap. He stood there silently searching for the right words in response to her admission. Friend. How could she possibly think that she was just a friend to him? Of course, they were friends, best friends in fact! But they were also something so much more.

“Girlfriend, Rayla. You’re my girl...wait.” And then it dawned on him. The real reason this argument had come about. The misunderstanding that he was sure would have come around at some point in their relationship and here it was. The inevitable cultural clash. “Rayla, do you know what girlfriend means?”

“Of course I know what it means. I’m not daft!” She objected before quickly adding, “It means a girl who is your friend.”

Callum’s face instantly morphed with understanding, a relieved grin spreading across his lips. “No, it means the exact opposite.”

It was Rayla’s turn to look dumbfounded. “What?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but stopped short. He thought about it for a moment, trying to decide the best way for him to explain. “Girlfriend is what someone calls the girl they love.” He started, looking back up at her with an affectionate glint in his eyes. “The girl they have a ‘thing’ with.” He pointed between the both of them. “Don’t elves have a word like that?”

The elf stood astonished for a moment, simply staring wide-eyed at the human boy. Then his words finally soaked in. Her cheeks felt hot as a crimson blush crept it’s way up her neck. She quickly averted her gaze and rubbed the length of her forearms.

“Well, now I feel stupid.” She admitted in a small voice.

Callum’s grin fell as he caught on to her embarrassment. Closing the space between them, he gently ran his hands over her wrists and pulled her crossed arms apart. He slid his fingers over the back of her palms and intertwined their fingers together.

“I’ve never heard someone be referred to as a girlfriend before, but I know Ethari used to call Runaan ‘my heart’ and my parents used to call each other ‘my love.’” Rayla explained, visibly relaxing under his touch. The boy simply smiled reassuringly as he listened to her. “Calling someone yours is the most endearing you get. At least to a Moonshadow Elf.”

“I’m sorry, Rayla.”

Her head snapped up at that. “Sorry? For what?”

“I should have asked you if it was okay, to call you my girlfriend that is. I was just so excited by the idea of actually having a girlfriend and one as beautiful and amazing as you are! And everyone else was calling you my girlfriend so I guess I just started using it too.”

She nodded in understanding. “I should have asked about it earlier. But I had honestly forgotten about it until today. I don’t mind being your girlfriend, Callum.”

The boy perked up at that.

“Now that I know what it means.” She quickly added.

His smile returned and he gave her hands a loving squeeze. “Well, maybe I should call you something from your culture, my heart.” He flashed her a toothy grin.

She shuddered and shook her head. “Bleh no, that’s way too sappy.”

Her disgusted expression earned her a laugh from her prince. “Well, now I’ve got to call you that.” He teased as he pulled her closer and gave her a flirtatious waggle of his eyebrows.

She scoffed at him, yanking her hands back and taking a step back. She tried to shoot him the deadliest glare she could muster in that moment, which was only slightly scary. “Don’t.”

Her command only made him laugh even harder. The sound of his laughter filled the room and made her heart feel lighter.

“Okay, fine, but I will find something that you’ll like.” He declared with an unusual amount of confidence.

“Good luck with that.” She deadpanned as she turned to walked away, but she was stopped by the rise in his voice.

“Wait!” He called out and she paused to look back at him over her shoulder.

“What are you going to call me?” He asked as he caught up to her.

“I call you lots of things.” She offered before smirking at him. “But maybe I’ll try boyfriend.”

He blushed. “Ha, more like manfriend.” He joked while lifting his arm to show off his lean muscles that he had been building since the start of their journey.

His girlfriend rolled her eyes and nudged his side, but laughter still escaped her lips.

“Stupid Prince.”

[pufflyhallows]

Picks & Pens (I)

Hi! This is a brand new series for our boy Sirius Black. It’s a rockstar!au in modern days. I really hope you like it, I had the idea over a year ago and had a little something in my drafts but only now got to write it the way it deserves. Enjoy!

Chapter One: Press

Warnings: language

Word count: 1,7k

a/n: I know nothing about press or the music industry, so forgive me for any mistakes lol

Sirius Black. What a perfect name for the typical arrogant and condescending rockstar who had just been declared artist of the decade by the magazine you worked for. Unfortunately for you, he also happened to be your ex-boyfriend.

You two had met in high school, way before he got famous. He already wrote music back then, you being one of the very first people to ever listen to it. Some of those songs were quite big hits today and you genuinely liked them, but that didn’t mean you liked him. At least, not anymore. Your relationship had ceased to exist seven years ago. What is it that people say about fame? Oh yes, it changes you.

As you walked past the countless desks in that white-walled office with tall windows, the latest edition of the magazine in hands, you thought about your boss’ proposition. She wanted you to interview the “artist of the decade” for the February issue – it was coming out on Valentine’s Day and she wanted an article about Sirius Black’s muse and writing process. According to her, it was impossible that there wasn’t a girl behind the lyrics of his songs, even though the man had been single for years now. You had told her you’d think about it and answer the next day. Well, today was the next day.

Brenda, your boss’ assistant, was on the phone when you approached her desk. She raised a finger at you as if to say “hold on” and kept talking to the person at the other end of that call. You knew better than to interrupt her, so you patiently waited.

“No freaking way, Rebecca! I told you he was going to the party regardless of what Charlie said! Now, don’t get me wrong, I think you’re much smarter than Mackenzie, but she’s got a point.”

You inhaled deeply, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Was it naive of you to assume that people only took business calls during business hours?

“I’m wheezing! Literally dying! Oh God...” Brenda giggled. “Well, I gotta go. I’m at work. What? Bitch, you called.”

You watched as she hung up the phone and gathered some loose sheets of paper from her desk, organizing them in a pile.

“Brenda?” you said, catching her attention. “I’m here to see Mrs. Lennox. Could you announce me?”

“She’s busy.”

“Uhh… She asked me to come by her office at ten and it’s… ten.”

Brenda sighed and picked up the phone again, pressing the interphone button. “Mrs. Lennox? Sorry to bother, but Y/N says she’s here to see you. Yes. Not a problem. Okay.”

She hung up and went back to putting her sheets into piles. You raised an eyebrow at her before she finally looked at you and spoke as if it was obvious. “Go in!”

Was it unprofessional to flip off a coworker?

You opened the door slowly and found Mrs. Lennox sitting by her desk with her eyes focused on her computer screen. She looked at you and smiled, gesturing for you to come see what she was working on.

“These photos just came in. Look at him! Isn’t he just so handsome?!”

And there he was. His signature guitar lazily laying between his legs as he had one hand resting on it and the other supporting his weight. He was sitting on a white… box-shaped stool? The background was also white, contrasting to his all-black outfit.

“I think I want these in black and white, what do you think?”

“There isn’t much color in them anyways,” you though out loud.

“Oh…” Mrs. Lennox eyed the entire picture. “You’re right. Black and white it is,” she wrote it down on her notepad.

You kept looking at the photo displayed across the large computer screen. The little shit was handsome, there was no denying that. The problem was what was behind that smirk – arrogance, selfishness and a big big sense of self-importance.

“So?!” your boss’ voice snapped you out of your memories. “Have you thought about our conversation yesterday?”

“I have,” you walked around the desk and sat in front of the older woman as she took off her red cat-eye glasses. “But I need to ask you something first.”

“Go ahead.”

“Will it bring attention to the fact that I am his ex-girlfriend?”

“What do you mean, sweetie? Everyone already knows.”

“I know, but… will it be focused on that? Yesterday you mentioned that it’d be great to have some sort of reunion and that the public would love it. Your idea is an intimate interview, just the two of us in the room and all.”

“Yes...”

“I understand it. I agree that the conversation flows better that way, because the interviewees usually feel more comfortable with less people around and no cameras. However, this is my job. Just my job. I don’t want it to be publicized as a reunion with my ex-boyfriend. This is me, a journalist, interviewing him, a musician.”

Mrs. Lennox looked at you for a while, as if she was trying to read your thoughts. She placed her hands together on the desk and took a deep breath.

“Listen, Y/N. I’ve got to be honest with you. The subject that will be discussed in this interview is interesting, yes. A lot of people are curious about his lyrics. Myself included. But frankly? Anyone can ask him questions about that and put it on a website or a magazine. Anyone. Would it sell? Of course! He’s the artist of the decade, everyone adores him. Now, imagine if the person interviewing him is actually a former girlfriend. And not any girlfriend, but his high school sweetheart. The girlfriend from the very beginning of his career. The person who was there when some of the biggest songs of this entire decade were being written. It will sell like water in the desert, Y/N! This is really good for press.”

“So this is why you picked me, of all people. Press,” you looked down and bit your inner cheek. “I’m a journalist, Mrs. Lennox.” You looked back at her, “I am part of the press. And I know how they will eat me alive after this interview. They will chase me around, paps will hunt me everywhere. The whole nightmare will start all over again. Even after seven years, I still get the occasional question about him. After this interview, though? There will be no peace. And, as a matter of fact, I’m not quite sure if I like the idea of having my personal life used as marketing. God, I’m not even sure if I do want to ‘reunite’ with him.”

“I see,” Mrs. Lennox leaned back on her chair. “What is your answer, then?”

You looked in her eyes, thinking about the last three years you worked for her magazine. She was by far the best boss you’ve ever had. She took you under her wing and gave you enough space to explore your full potential and truly shine. She bent backwards for you several times in the past, helping you build your name in journalism. There was nothing in this world that she could ask that would make you think twice before attending. Nothing, except this.

However, there was a side of you that wanted to see him again. To speak to him again. Hear him talk again. A very curious side of you, that needed to see how he would act around you after so many years of no contact. Would he treat you like every other interviewer? Would he be as self-absorbed and pompous? Would he answer to your questions truthfully? That side of you would die to find out.

And that side won. Along with all the respect you had for your boss and the extra payment she offered the day before, of course.

“My answer is yes. I will interview him.”

Mrs. Lennox smiled widely, but before she could say anything, you added. “Under one condition.”

“Oh, Y/N. What is it?”

“It won’t get publicized as a reunion. Please, Mrs. Lennox, don’t publish it with something like ‘Sirius Black interviewed by former girlfriend’. Just put my name in there and let the press do their thing around it. That’s all I ask. Please.”

Mrs. Lennox eyed you for a while, just like before. She always seemed to crave the power to read minds, maybe even control them. She bit her lower lip and adjusted her wedding ring, looking down at her notepad now.

“Well, it does look good to treat it like it’s so casual. Like you’re still friends and it’s no big deal. You did end things amicably, after all.”

Right…

“Okay, Y/N,” she nodded. “It will be just your name, no mentions of the relationship.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lennox.”

“Right. Look, Y/N, this interview is very important for us. Please, keep that in mind. I expect a really good show of professionalism on your part. The subject might be delicate to deal with, given your past, but I trust that you won’t leave out any details pertinent to the writing of this article.”

“You have nothing to worry about. The subject won’t be delicate at all.”

You hoped you didn’t sound insulted, because you did feel your ears burn slightly with the insinuation that you might care if he wrote songs about some other girl. You absolutely did not. It’s been seven fucking years.

“Great. That settles it, then. I will look into scheduling this interview now,” she clicked on her mouse and put her red cat-eye glasses back on. “I am predicting it will take place within two weeks from now, so no trips out of town during this time!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You can go back to work now, sweetie. If anything comes up, I’ll e-mail you.”

“Okay,” you stood up and grabbed your latest edition of the magazine, remembering why you had brought it in the first place. “Oh! By the way, there’s a typo on page forty-five of the January issue. Printing started this morning, so I think there’s still time to fix it before we lose too much material.”

“Y/N! What would I do without you?! Page forty-five, you say?” she immediately wrote it down on her notepad. “I knew I couldn’t trust Henry on this.”

“He’s a good kid,” you shrugged. “He’ll get the hang of it.”

“Right, right… Ask Brenda to call him on your way out, will you?”

“Of course,” you nodded, already feeling bad for Henry’s ears.

The next couple of weeks were going to be interesting, though.

********

[camillemontespan]

ten years from now [AU. drake walker x camille montespan] [part one: sun cream and peaches]

I’ve missed writing a Drake x Camille focused series! I was hit with inspiration and had to get this down. While I was in Japan, I spent an hour each morning writing this while having coffee and demolishing chocolate bread. As a result, this got quite long. As this chapter is setting things up, I guess it has to be long but I still apologise. 

On a personal note, I realised while writing this that it has actually been ten years since I broke up with my previous boyfriend so I met one summer and really fell for. Maybe it was on my mind subconsciously? We ended with no closure. I actually ended up meeting him again three years after - let’s say it was a weird experience. What happens in this chapter is inspired by that.

ALSO, @burnsoslow​ has a series coming out soon that is similar in terms of Drake & MC meeting again. We have messaged each other recently, panicking that it looks like we’re copying each other, but I must stress that we are absolutely not. It happens when everyone gets similar ideas. Burnsy, I’m excited to read your new series! 

Taggin’ those who like Cake: @ibldw-main​ @moonlightgem7​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @pug-bitch​ @emichelle​ @loveellamae​ @mskaneko​ @sirbeepsalot​ @katedrakeohd​ @dcbbw​ @argylemnwrites​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​ @simplymissjulia​ @kingliam2019​ @saivilo​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @gardeningourmet​  @walkerswhiskeygirl​  @drakesensworld​ @pedudley​ 

Let me know if you want removed from the tag list or if you want to be added :)

*******************************************************

Their feet were tangled together as they lay side by side on the jetty. The sun was setting low in the sky, casting a golden glow over their skin. The scent of sun cream and peaches bloomed in the warm air.

‘Drake, stop tickling me!’ Camille squealed, giggling and snorting as Drake’s fingers tickled her ribs.

'No way, Montespan,’ Drake teased. 'Not while you’re snorting like that!’

Camille snorted again, making the two of them descend into giggles.

They had been best friends since they were toddlers. But lately, they had gotten closer, more intimate as the summer began to fade, making way for fall. Maybe it was the thought that soon they would be separated that had made Drake and Camille progress their friendship to one that involved kissing and holding hands. They were no longer just best friends. They had defined their relationship.

Camille was due to start Brown in September while Drake was going to Berkley. They had a whole future ahead of them, one filled with opportunity and hope. Even though they were excited, they had promised that they would Skype every day and visit each other whenever money and time allowed. This would be the first time in their 15 year friendship that they would be apart.

Right now, they were keen to soak up the last days of summer with each other. That was all they needed.

Drake rolled over to suspend his body above hers. He was starting to build muscle now after spending more time outdoors at his summer job and he looked more self assured and confident - Camille was used to seeing him retreat into himself so to see this change in him made her feel so happy. The way he was looking at her now, with a twinkle in his eye and a confident smirk, was enough to make her body react in the most exciting way.

They hadn’t gone the whole way yet. In fact, they hadn’t actually discussed it but Camille was hopeful. She had never been with a boy before. Spending every day with Drake, watching their friendship change to something more, had been eye opening for her. She wanted him and only him. It was scary and terrifying and bewildering and delicious. 

Camille reached up to graze his jaw with her hand. Drake smiled down at her and kissed her softly, making her lips tingle. She decided to take the plunge. Her hand slowly reached down to unbuckle his belt. Drake drew back and regarded her with a curious expression.

'Someone feeling feisty?’ he asked her.

Camille raised an eyebrow. 'Maybe.’

Drake chuckled. He let out a hiss as he felt her hand touch him.

'Are you sure?’ he croaked.

Drake had never been with a girl in this way.  He had never had much luck with girls in the past. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest now as he realised that if Camille said yes, then that was it.

He hoped she would say yes.

Camille nodded. 'I want to do this with you,’ she whispered. 'Nobody else.’

Drake’s breath hitched. He studied her face that was so beautiful. Her brown eyes flecked with gold. Her high cheekbones and mouth with its gorgeous cupids bow. Drake knew she was going to be a gorgeous woman when she was older.

Drake leaned down to kiss her again before gently pulling away to look down at her. 'I..’

He stopped, taking a breath. Camille smiled. 'Yes?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Drake turned pink but soldiered on. 'I love you,’ he finally told her, his voice shaking. 'Always have, always will.’

Camille turned pink too. 'I love you too, Drake Walker,’ she murmured.

They kissed again until Camille broke away from him.

'Promise me that we’ll still be together ten years from now,’ she said, her voice steady. 'No matter what happens at college or in the future, promise me that we’ll be together in ten years.’

Drake laughed softly. 'Are you proposing marriage to me, Montespan?’

Camille squeezed his hand. 'Drake..’ she whispered. 'Be serious.’

Drake leaned down to kiss her neck, making her gasp. His hands gripped her hips tightly.

'I promise,’ he murmured in her ear. 'Ten years from now, we’ll still be together.’

Drake meant it.

**********************************

ten years later

'There’s a good girl. That’s it..’ Drake murmured, coaxing Lone Star to leave the stable. The apple he held in his hand acted as a way to get the horse to do his bidding. Drake managed to successfully get the horse outside so she could exercise out of the confines of the stable. Smiling, he let Lone Star munch on the apple.

He had been working since 6am. The sun was high in the sky now and his body was shiny with sweat. This was his life. Up at dawn to manage the ranch then at 9am, he would fix breakfast for him and his mom before getting back to work.

Speaking of..

Drake rushed back to the house. He found his mother sat at the kitchen table reading the paper. 'Hey mom,’ he greeted her, pressing a quick kiss on the top of her head.

Bianca smiled up at her son. 'Morning, honey. Coffee is ready for you.’

Drake grinned and poured himself a cup of coffee. 'So, bacon and eggs for breakfast?’ he asked.

'I was thinking pancakes,’ Bianca mused, turning the page of the newspaper. 'And fresh OJ.’

Drake rolled his eyes. 'You’re so demanding.’

'Can it,’ Bianca retorted. 'I’m your mother, I’m allowed to be demanding.’

She gave Drake a wink to show she was teasing. Drake smiled and sat down opposite her to drink his coffee. He looked at her paper to see she was studying the marriage announcements.

He swallowed. Drake knew Bianca had been hoping for her only son to get married and have lots of babies. All she wanted was for him to be with the girl of his dreams. But Drake hadn’t found her yet. Or maybe he had, he had just let her go without realising.

Bianca cleared her throat and pushed the newspaper towards him. Well, it was the Applewood Gazette, not exactly a broadsheet. It was a paper he didn’t read but one his mother adored because it meant she could have all the county gossip without looking like she was a gossip herself.

He noticed that she was pointing to an announcement. 'Baby..’ she whispered.

Drake frowned and took the paper. His eyes scanned the words.

'Applewood’s former resident, Camille Gabrielle Montespan, would like to announce her upcoming marriage to Mr Liam Anthony Rhys from New York. The happy couple will be visiting Applewood on 5th June to invite Camille’s friends to the wedding, which is confirmed to be being held in New York at the beautiful Metropolitan Museum of Art in three months time. Camille looks forward to seeing everyone again.’

Drake pushed down the bitter taste in his throat. Bianca’s eyes glistened. She had always loved Camille. She had really hoped that Drake and Camille would have gone the distance.

'How nice for her,’ Bianca said tightly. 

Drake sipped his coffee, refusing to comment.

'Are you going to see her?’ Bianca asked, her voice slightly hopeful. 'Maybe you could invite her round for dinner? We could all catch up -’

'No, mom,’ Drake interrupted. 'We’re not friends anymore. I barely know her.’

'But-’

Drake sighed. 'I said no. Now, pancakes and OJ?’

Bianca took the paper from him and carefully folded it up. 'Sounds fabulous,’ she said, clearly disappointed.

**********************************

Camille rushed through the foyer of her work, cursing herself for sleeping in. She hadn’t meant to. Usually, she was the first one in the office but not today. Drinks the night before with Olivia and Hana had escalated from 'a glass of wine’ to 'shots and dancing on the bar at 2am! WOOO!’

Camille had decided that she was a fucking idiot.

Camille got to her desk and switched on her computer, hoping her boss hadn’t seen that she had arrived 20 minutes late.

'Morning bitch.’

Camille looked up to see Olivia standing over her with two cups of coffee in her hands. She was looking smug.

'Here,’ Olivia said, handing her a cup. 'Made it specially for you.’

Camille took the coffee gratefully and sipped it. She eyed Olivia.

'You look fresh,’ Camille said. 'How is that fair?’

Olivia smirked. 'I don’t get hangovers. Hangovers are for weaklings.’

A small voice came from opposite Camille’s desk. 'I am not a weakling..’

Hana had her head in her hands. Camille held in laughter when she saw that Hana was also wearing huge sunglasses to hide the evidence.

'Hana Lee, you are wearing sunglasses at work,’ Olivia said. 'You may as well just run through the office screaming that you got off with the bartender last night.’

'I DID NOT GET OFF WITH THAT BARTENDER!’ Hana hissed.

Camille giggled. 'You did, Hana. We saw you.’

Hana groaned. 'I’m trying to forget my bad decision making. Stop making me remember.’

Olivia rolled her eyes and was about to speak to Camille about the 10am meeting but was interrupted by one of the admin assistants who was holding a huge bouquet of red roses.

'Um, Camille..’ the assistant said, clearly nervous to be standing next to Olivia. 'These came for you this morning.’

Camille’s eyes widened as she took the flowers. 'Oh my..’

'They’re beautiful!’ Hana cried.

'Are they from lover boy?’ Olivia asked.

Camille blushed as she read the little note attached.

'I know you’ll be feeling rough this morning. Thinking of you always and forever. Li x’

Olivia dry heaved. 'I swear, he finds any excuse to give you sickening declarations of love.’

Camille rolled her eyes and held the flowers close to her chest. Hana was up from her desk and studying the flowers with a mournful expression on her face.

'How does it feel to be loved that much?’ she asked sadly.

Camille smiled. 'It’s really nice, Hana.’

Olivia sighed. 'And Liam does it again. I swear he’s like a robot that’s come from the factory of perfect fiancé’s.’

'Are you guys still going to Texas?’ Hana asked. 'Is Liam excited?’

'Yeah, he is!’ Camille told them. 'I’ll introduce him to my grandma and if I see Bianca -’

'Who’s Bianca?’ Olivia asked, wrinkling her nose.

'My ex boyfriend’s mom.’

Hana and Olivia stared at Camille. 'Ex boyfriend?’ Hana repeated. 'Um.. you still talk to your ex?’

'No,’ Camille replied. 'I’ve not seen him in.. God, ten years. He won’t be there. He was going to California for college and planned to never go back to the ranch -’

'The ranch..’ Olivia said, unimpressed. 'You dated a fucking cowboy? Really?’

'He was eighteen!’ Camille protested. 'Not a cowboy!’

'What was his name?’ Hana asked.

'Drake,’ Camille said. She hadn’t said his name in ten years and the way her voice cracked as she did so betrayed her. 'Drake Walker.’

*********************************

'Are you gonna talk to her?’ Savannah asked Drake. She was balancing her toddler, Bartie, on her hip while making herself a cup of coffee.

'Talk to who?’ Drake asked, gesturing for Savannah to pass Bartie to him so that his sister could get on with coffee making. Savannah placed her son in Drake’s lap. Bartie shouted with glee. 'Dwaaake!’

'It’s Drake,’ Drake corrected his nephew. 'Drake. Not that hard.’

Savannah cleared her throat. 'Actually it’s Uncle Drake. And you didn’t answer my question. Are you going to talk to Camille when you see her?’

Drake sighed. His arms held Bartie close. 'If I see her, I’ll say hi,’ he told her. 'But I guess she’s gonna be really busy with her fiancé. Besides, we’ve not spoken in years, we might not even talk.’

Savannah shook her head. 'Drake, you were best friends for years. You dated. How could you not talk?’

'Because we’ve got nothing in common anymore,’ Drake replied bluntly, wishing she would just stop talking. 'We’re not friends.’

'You loved her,’ Savannah reminded him.

'Yeah well, look how that ended up,’ Drake bit back. 'She’s getting married, Sav. No point in even looking back, it’s done. Now can we please stop talking about Camille?’

Savannah stopped talking after that. Thank god. Drake didn’t want to be reminded of how things were left between him and Camille. It brought back too much to the surface.

**************************

Camille got home after a long day. All she wanted right now was her bed and Netflix. Letting herself into the apartment she shared with Liam, she hung up her trench coat and padded through to the living room.

She stopped short.

Rose petals decorated the floor, making a pathway across the living room to the balcony outside.

'Uhh.. Liam?’ she called out.

'I’m outside!’

Camille wandered through the living room, following the roses. She could hear Miles Davis playing from speakers and she could smell tomatoes.

Liam was setting the balcony table. Candles were lit up on the balcony and the view of the New York skyline glittered in the distance.

Liam turned to give her a wide smile and held out his hands for her to take. 'Darling!’

Camille smiled and kissed him. 'Hey you. What’s all this?’

Liam grinned. 'What? I can’t surprise my fiancée with her favourite dinner?’

'You’ve used rose petals,’ Camille said. 'This is next level romance. Oh and thank you for the flowers. The girls at work were jealous.’

Liam chuckled and handed her a glass of wine. 'Do they want me to send them flowers?’ he asked. 'Because I could, you know. Complete with a romantic card.’

Camille giggled and wrapped her arms around him. 'No, you’re mine,’ she told him. 'I like getting flowers from you.’

Liam pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose. 'I’ll give you flowers every week until death do us part.’

'How morbid,’ Camille teased.

'Well we are getting married,’ Liam said. 'I plan to spoil you for as long as I live.’

They sat down to feast on spaghetti alla puttanesca. They talked about their day before discussion turned to their upcoming trip to Texas.

'So, are you excited to see your grandma?’ Liam asked.

Camille nodded,sipping her wine. 'Of course. To be honest, bit nervous. I mean, grandma hasn’t met you yet. We’ll, I guess over Skype she has but that’s not really the same..’

Liam and Camille had been dating for a year. They had been too busy with their jobs to visit Texas and Camille’s grandma was too frail to travel to New York herself.

Liam gave Camille a sparkling smile. 'Well, I won you over right?’ he asked. 'I’ll just have to use my charms on Gisele!’

Camille smiled. 'I’m sure she’ll love you.’

Liam grinned and helped himself to more wine. Camille pushed down the unsettling feeling in her stomach. She was excited to see her grandma again - but she was nervous to see the Walkers. Applewood was a small place and it was a guarantee that she would bump into Bianca. She wouldn’t see Drake. He had always told her that as soon as he could, he would leave the ranch and live in a city far away from the stifling environment that was Applewood.

************************

Liam helped Camille lug her giant suitcase down the street towards the taxi that was taking them to JFK. 'We’re only visiting for two weeks,’ he huffed, panting from the exertion.

'True but Applewood is a really social place,’ Camille told him. 'There’s always an event happening. We’re a close knit community and we always get together for events.’

Liam smiled. 'Like what?’

'Like.. Apple bobbing. The summer fairground. The Beaumont Bash.’

Liam’s eyes widened. 'What’s a Beaumont Bash?’

Camille grinned. 'Bertrand and Maxwell Beaumont host their annual summer Bash at their house. It’s huge. They go all out for it. Think fireworks, champagne bottles in bathtubs, DJs..’

'Are they friends of yours?’

Camille nodded. She opened the taxi door and settled inside. 'Maxwell has been my friend since high school,’ she told him. 'He’s amazing. Really kind and so fun. You’ll like him. Bertrand is the older brother. He’s a bit more serious but when he’s partying, he changes. Like, he becomes more camp and extravagant.’ She eyed Liam. 'Yup, Bertrand is definitely going to flirt with you.’

Liam chuckled and gave her a wink. 'Well I am dashingly handsome.’

Camille giggled and snuggled into him as the taxi took them across the bridge.

***************************

The town of Applewood was a small place twenty miles outside of Austin, Texas. The summers were long, too long for high school students who dreamed of moving away as soon as they could. 

Drake and Camille had always talked about their dreams. Sat on Camille's grandma's porch with a pitcher of ice cold lemonade between them, they would look out at the fields beyond and make plans. They would go to college and end up in New York. Because they were best friends, of course their plans included each other. There was no other alternative. 

Camille couldn't help but be reminded of Drake Walker as the cab drove her and Liam from the airport towards the rural roads that led to Applewood. If Liam thought she seemed quiet on the drive, he didn't say anything. He assumed she was just nervous to see her friends again - and she was. But being back in Texas just reminded her of everything she had left behind. 

The cab passed the burger place where she and Drake used to go every Saturday for lunch. They would eat burgers and use the drinks straws to throw spit balls at each other. 

The cab passed the park where she and Drake would walk his golden retriever, Clover. Camille had adored that loveable dog. She wondered if Clover was still around. Not that she would see her, Camille reminded herself. 

Camille had to keep reminding herself to stop thinking about Drake. He wouldn't be here and even if he was, it wasn't like they would have anything to say to each other. In fact, Camille knew that she had absolutely nothing to say to him. 

The cab rolled up the dirt road leading to Camille's grandmother's house. Camille kept her eyes ahead so she could avoid seeing the sign for Walker Ranch. Camille and Drake had been neighbours too. They had a history here, one Camille wished she didn't have to face. 

Gisele was waiting for them on the front porch as Camille had texted her when they arrived at the airport to keep her updated of their movements. Camille smiled when she saw her grandmother. Gisele was dressed elegantly, as per usual, in a white trouser suit and comfortable sandals. She always wanted to look her best. 

'Mon petit chou!' Gisele squealed, rushing down the steps towards the cab. Camille and Liam clambered out to greet her. The taxi driver deposited their cases and exclaimed when Liam tipped him generously.

Gisele held Camille tightly before stepping back to look at Liam. She raised an eyebrow. 'He is very tall.' 

Liam laughed. 'That I am, Miss Montespan. It’s so good to meet you in person at last.’

Gisele positively melted at Liam's politeness. 'You're also very handsome..' she purred. 

'Grandma!' Camille scolded her, laughing. 'Stop flirting with my fiancé!' 

Gisele waved her hand and took Liam's arm, guiding him to the house. Camille rolled her eyes. 'Uh, help with the suitcases?' she called out. 

'In a moment!' Gisele called back. 'I need to show Liam my flowers!' she looked up at Liam. 'I've been growing my own roses. They're beautiful if I do say so myself. Magnifique!’

Liam looked back at Camille and gave her a shrug. He and Gisele disappeared into the house, leaving Camille outside to deal with the luggage. 

'Camille Montespan, is that you?!' 

Camille turned to see Bianca Walker walking towards her with a huge smile on her face. Camille swallowed and fixed a grin on her face. 

'Mrs Walker!' 

Bianca held out her arms to pull Camille in for a hug before standing back to study her. 'Well, aren't you a beauty?' she whispered, cupping Camille's cheek. Camille blushed. 

'So I hear you're engaged,' Bianca said. 'Where is he?' 

Camille blinked. 'Grandma has kidnapped him.. But, uh, how did you know?' 

Bianca chuckled. 'The announcement in the paper, silly!' 

Camille was very confused. Announcement in the paper.. Oh no. Her grandmother must have done it without consulting her. Masking her realisation, Camille squeezed Bianca's hands. 'Of course!' she cried. 'The announcement. So excited.'

Bianca studied Camille for a long moment. 'You have no clue what I'm talking about, do you?' 

Camille sighed. 'No. I take it grandma got carried away and wanted to make it public knowledge? What did it say?' 

'I'll show you!' Bianca said, taking her hand to pull her up the road. 'You can tell me all about New York while we walk to the ranch -' 

'I really should be getting the cases inside,' Camille tried to say. But Bianca ignored her, chatting away about how she had never been to New York and that her late husband, Jackson, had always wanted to go. 

The ranch hadn't changed. The oak tree that Camille had fallen out of when she was six years old was still standing strong. She remembered Drake had tried to fix her arm while crying his eyes out, panicking that they would get in trouble from Jackson. They hadn’t. Instead, Jackson had driven them to the hospital and promised Camille ice cream when she was better. 

Bianca pushed Camille inside. The scent of familiarity cloaked Camille's senses. Bianca's favourite paintings were hung up and family photos decorated the sideboard. Camille avoided stealing a glance at them. 

'You must be thirsty,' Bianca said. 'Lemonade? OJ? Water?' 

'I'm okay -' 

'Baby, drink something,' Bianca replied sternly. Defeated, Camille asked for water. Bianca had her sit down at the wooden kitchen table and continued to talk without pausing for breath. 

'Ah, here's the announcement!' 

Bianca passed Camille the newspaper for her to read. Camille cringed. She hated this sort of thing. She didn't like attention. And it looked like she was bragging, which was even worse. 

'What's he like then?' Bianca asked. 

'Liam is amazing,' Camille told her. 'He's smart, loving, kind. He works on Wall Street.' 

'Very nice,' Bianca murmured. Camille didn't realise that she was comparing Liam to her son. 

Camille continued to talk, every word like word vomit. When she was nervous, she over compensated by talking too much. 

'He's 28 and he's so nice to everyone, really warm and genuine. Such a generous man -' 

'Mom, I'm back!' 

Camille stopped talking instantly when she heard a male voice call out from the hallway. Oh god. Oh dear god. 

Bianca jumped up and rushed to the kitchen door. 'Drake, guess who's here!' 

Camille winced, waiting for impact. She could hear heavy footfall cross the floor and stop at the door. 

'Camille?' 

Camille looked up to see an older but familiar face staring at her in disbelief. 

***************************

Drake stared at Camille who was sitting in his kitchen like she always had when she had been his friend. His heart began to hammer inside his chest and his throat constricted. His mouth felt dry. Very dry. He needed whiskey. 

'Hey Drake..' Camille murmured, her eyes wide as she stared at him. 'How are you?' 

She looked beautiful. She had always been beautiful but now, she was a woman who had grown into her features and wore them like she was a portrait. Her dark hair tumbled to her shoulders in waves and she was wearing a silk peach blazer on top of a white top and cigarette trousers.

Camille looked elegant and sophisticated. She looked like a New Yorker from the Upper East Side. Drake knew because he had visited New York three years ago. He had wandered around the Upper East Side before realising that it wasn’t the place for him. 

'I'm good, you?' Drake replied, his voice tight. 

Bianca took this moment to leave them alone. Drake ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. 

'I'm good,' Camille said softly. 

This was so awkward. 

'I, uh, read you're getting married,' Drake mumbled. 'Congratulations.' 

Camille turned red. 'Thank you. Are you.. Seeing anyone?' 

Drake shook his head. 'Nah.' 

Another silence. Drake wished he could put a fucking gun to his head and end it all now. 

*****************************

Camille's eyes roamed over Drake. He was a man now. Of course, she knew he would have been but seeing him like this, older and looking more like Jackson Walker now that he had aged.. 

His body was solid. His shoulders had broadened and Camille could see the muscles through his denim shirt. He was a little taller now - six foot four it looked like - and the sheer masculinity he conveyed was enough to make her speechless. 

But his eyes were the same. Brown that shone green in the light. And his hair was still tousled and hid some of his left eye, almost deliberately as if he wanted to hide. He still stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Drake the boy was still there, deep down. 

'Have you moved back to Texas then or just visiting your mom?' Camille asked. 

'I live here,' Drake said. 'I went to college for a semester but uh.. it didn't work out.'

He shifted on his feet. Clearly, he wasn't going to go into detail. But then, why should he? It wasn't her business. 

Camille swallowed. 'I should get going,' she said, her voice cracking. 

Drake nodded. A hint of relief passed over his features. Camille stood up, aware that Drake was watching her like a hawk. He looked like he was seeing a ghost. Perhaps he was. 

They walked together to the front door. 'Good to see you,' Drake said unconvincingly. 'How long are you here for?' 

'Two weeks,' Camille replied. 'So I might see you around.' 

'Yeah, you could introduce me to your fiance,' Drake suggested, instantly regretting his words. 

Stop talking, Walker. As if you want to meet the prick. 

Camille nodded, her lips set in a tight line. 'Yeah, you will have to meet him. I bet you guys will become best friends by the end,' she said, trying to be light. She instantly regretted her words. 

They are not going to be friends. They couldn't be more different. Get away from the door and go home. 

'I'm sure Maxwell will be organising something for all of us to get together again,' Camille said. 'We can catch up.' 

Stop fucking talking. Word vomit. 

'Yeah, sounds good Montespan,' Drake replied, keeping his voice neutral. 

Why the fuck are you calling her by her last name? Do you want to look like a chump? 

Camille smiled weakly. 'Okay. Well, see you soon, I guess.' 

Drake raised a hand and watched her turn to leave the porch. He continued to watch her as she walked briskly back down the road to her grandma's before he shut the door with a click. 

He needed whiskey. 

*************************

Camille rubbed her wet eyes fiercely as she strode back to her grandma's house. Why was she getting upset? It had been ten years. A decade. Why was she crying over something that she never really had? 

She was tired from the flight, that was all. She would make her excuses and have a quick nap and she would then feel better for dinner and catch ups with Gisele. 

Camille could curse Drake Walker. Even after ten years, he still managed to make her feel things. Even after everything he had put her through, he still made her wish things had been different. Even if they weren’t together, she wished they could be friends. 

But she couldn't think like that. She was with Liam now. The love of her life. Her fiancé. 

Get a grip Camille. You can't cry over something you never really had in the first place. 

*************************** 

Camille managed to steal half an hour to nap. When she awoke, she didn't feel much different. 

Maybe she was just hungry. 

Gisele had made jambalaya which had been Camille's favourite dish growing up. Pure comfort food. It beat chicken soup in Camille’s unbiased opinion.  As Liam exclaimed over how delicious it was and Gisele giggled and blushed, Camille drank wine.  Lots of wine.

'So, have you heard that Maxwell is hosting your welcome home brunch tomorrow morning?' Gisele asked, breaking into Camille's thoughts. 

Camille blinked in surprise. 'I didn't know that. That's nice of him. Who's all going? Kiara? I need to catch up with her-'

'Yes, Kiara and Penelope will be there,' Gisele confirmed. 'And Madeleine -' 

'Ugh, spare me,' Camille interrupted. Liam's eyes widened at her sudden change of tone. 

'Who's Madeleine?' he asked. 

'A bitch from school who made mine and Drake's lives hell,' Camille said without thinking. 

Liam frowned. 'And who is Drake?' 

Camille sipped her wine, taking a deliberate moment to gather herself. 'We used to be friends,' she told him. 'But we're not anymore.' 

*************************

That night, Drake sloped down to the jetty by the lake and got drunk on whiskey. He needed to dull his mind and get rid of thoughts about Camille. 

As the stars twinkled down on the water, Drake tossed back the amber liquid, grateful when the reflections of the stars began to shift and blur. 

Seeing her today had only confirmed that they were way past the point of return. Sure, he had never expected to find her sitting in his kitchen, but he had known she would be visiting with her fiancé soon. He knew he had been bound to see her. 

He just didn't expect it to be so.. awkward. And different. Stilted. But looking at her today, he had felt his chest tighten, his heart beat a little more rapidly and his breath catch. She made him nervous and unsure, two things Camille had never made him feel before. 

God she was beautiful. Stunning, actually. 

Was he mourning the loss of their friendship? Absolutely. Was he regretting the way he handled things ten years ago? Of course he was. 

Drake tossed back more whiskey and closed his eyes. His mind flashed back to that incredible night on this jetty where he and Camille had laid themselves bare to the other. Drake had lost his virginity to Camille that night. He had told her he loved her. Everything had changed in that one moment. 

He wished he hadn't broken her heart. If Drake had one regret in life, it was ruining what they had. He couldn't help but wish that he had done it differently. Maybe they would have stayed together. Maybe he would have been her fiancé instead. 

Stop it, Walker, he scolded himself. Don't think like that. 

Drake spent the rest of the night drinking until he dragged himself back to the house to bed. He threw himself on his bed, fully clothed, and slipped into a dreamless sleep. 

*****************************

'Honey, get up! We've got places to be and people to see!' Bianca called up the stairs. Drake groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. 

He had a headache and his mouth felt like something had died in it. 

Drake could curse himself. He hadn't been hungover for a long time. 

' DRAKE!' Bianca shouted. 

' Alright ma, I'm gettin' up! ' Drake shouted back. 

'Don't give me cheek!' Bianca replied, her voice rising.

'I'm not giving you - fine, whatever, I can't be fucked..' Drake muttered, rolling out of bed. He took a moment to steady himself before dragging his body out the door towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

The reflection in the mirror showed how shit he looked. His eyes were red rimmed and his skin grey. What. A. Catch. 

He heard Bianca come upstairs, whistling to herself. 'Now, Gisele and Maxwell have very kindly invited us to brunch this morning!' Bianca said, stopping at the bathroom door to talk to him. 'It's for Camille. A welcome home brunch! I'm going to get ready, wanna help me pick a fancy dress? I don't have many but I have this gorgeous floral one I've been saving for a special occasion.. We got to look our best, I mean it's the Beaumont’s for crying out loud.. '

Drake closed his eyes as his mother kept talking. She really had no pause button. Bianca loved to talk - she was loud, opinionated and the human equivalent of a bulldozer. 

'Mom, I'm not going.. ' Drake muttered. 

Bianca stopped talking. For once.

'What do you mean you're not going?' she asked, her eyes wide. 'Drake, you have to go. It would be rude if you didn't. I know you and Camille aren't exactly friends anymore but you grew up together, you could at least wish her well and congratulate her. And Maxwell is your friend -' 

'He's not,' Drake cut in. 'He is more Camille's friend than mine.' 

Bianca sighed. 'Nonetheless, you should go. You can give her your well wishes and meet her fiancé. I've heard the Beaumonts throw incredible brunches, I'm curious to see what it's like. Please, baby.'

Drake sighed, knowing he was defeated. His mother never went to these kinds of events. She had always wondered what they were like and now she had an invitation, extended to her by Gisele who had been friendly with Bianca years ago. He couldn't burst Bianca's bubble. 

'Fine. What do I have to wear?' 

**********************

He had to wear a suit. The suit Bianca forced him to wear had been relegated to the back of his closet. It was slightly too small for him now, considering the last time he wore it was ten years ago at prom. Drake reluctantly wore the suit, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

Savannah had jumped out of bed as soon as she heard there was an event happening. She had always been on the fringes of society at school, wishing she was part of the popular girls. She had idolised Madeleine, despite the fact that Madeleine often bullied her brother. Savannah had been insufferable as a teenager. She and Drake had become ships in the night at one point and only now were they close again. 

'I wonder what Camille's fiancé is like!' Savannah crowed as she dressed Bartie up in a knitted sweater and trousers. ''Bet he's really rich if he works on Wall Street..' 

Drake ignored her to help Bianca get ready. 

Bianca wore the floral dress paired with nude kitten heels. She teased her hair into a chignon and deliberated over which handbag to use. Drake could tell she was nervous. 

'You look great, mom,' he told her softly. 'Like a movie star.' 

Bianca blushed and took Drake's arm. 'Let's go show them what the Walkers are made of.' 

*************************************

Camille and Liam stood at the door of Beaumont Manor with Maxwell and Gisele, waiting for guests to arrive. Maxwell was dressed flamboyantly, wearing a blue glittery suit with blue glitter sparkling in his dark hair. 

He had been so excited to see Camille again. They had been close in school, having sat together in English class. Maxwell had had dreams of writing a novel and had often neglected his actual studies to write more of his book, much to the annoyance of his teacher. 

When he had met Liam, he had clapped his hands in excitement and pulled him in for a hug. Liam had laughed in surprise and complimented his suit. Maxwell had preened. 

As their first guests trickled in, Liam and Camille shook their hands and thanked them for coming along. Many people had told Camille that she looked beautiful, stunning, ravishing, chic, all of the adjectives that made her want to throw up. They had all clasped Liam's hand as they greeted him, their eyes widening as they studied his good looks. 

Liam looked and smelled expensive. That was the one word everyone who knew him described him as. His suit was always pressed, his hair immaculately quaffed and he wore expensive shoes that were always scrubbed and polished. 

And he was a gentleman. Kind, polite and generous. He welcomed everyone with a smile and a 'pleased to meet you', confidence shining from him. 

'Ah, the Walkers!' Gisele cried, breaking into Camille's thoughts. She looked down the steps and saw with shock that Bianca, Drake and Savannah - now older and with a baby boy on her hip - were climbing up the steps to greet them. 

'Bee, you look stunning!' Gisele cried, reaching out to take Bianca's hands. Her eyes slid to Savannah. 'And Savvy! It's been so long! Who is this handsome boy?' 

'This is Bartie,' Savannah replied, smiling. 

Camille could feel eyes on her. Drake's eyes. She gathered the courage to look at him now.

He was wearing a suit that was too small for him, she noted with a pang in her heart. She remembered Drake used to hate dressing up. His hair was mussed up and his eyes were red rimmed. Drinking? Lack of sleep? 

'Liam, this is Drake Walker,' Camille finally said, her voice steady, looking up at her fiance. 'We were friends at school.' 

She could see Savannah narrow her eyes. Ignoring her, Camille smiled up at Liam who was grinning at Drake. 

'Pleasure to meet you,' Liam said, holding out his hand to shake Drake's. Drake blinked and held out his hand - the sleeve of his suit jacket rode up his arm, exposing his wrist, showing to everyone how ill fitting the outfit was. 

'Likewise,' Drake mumbled. 'Uh, congratulations.'

'We'll chat as soon as we're inside,' Liam told him easily. 'I'm sure you've got lots of stories about my fiancée that will embarrass her!' 

Drake cleared his throat. 'Oh I got stories, alright.'

Camille felt her cheeks burn. Drake's eyes flashed to her. She took a chance to look at him; his eyes betrayed no indication of his thoughts.

'Montespan,' he said, bowing his head. She looked away as he took his mother's arm and lead her and Savannah into the Manor. 

Liam squeezed Camille’s hand. ‘Well, he seems nice!’

[askrighthandrecollections]

Words on a page 2/I am the Bluebird 3

Right busied himself with checking the contents of the large backpack he planned on taking with him. He could hear Reginald flipping though the notebook as the man sat on Right’s bed.

“Oh look, there’s a message for me,” Reginald mused and read it aloud. “Hey Reginald, what do you think of this Time Loop situation?”

“You gonna reply?” Right asked, looking up to see Reginald twirling a pen in one hand. His partner smirked.

“It would be rude if I didn’t,” the former leader said, and put pen to paper, dictating his response as he did. “Truth be told, I’m more worried about Right being in such a predicament than the situation itself. Since I don’t retain my memories my Right Hand Man has no guarantee that I will assist him when he returns to the past.”

Right blinked at him. “Reg, it’s fine. I haven’t ‘ad any problems convincing you so far…”

“When I’m the chief yes, you have yet to inform me of your situation when we’re both under Terrence’s rule, and there’s every chance my younger self may not believe you should you try,” Reginald countered, putting the pen in one of many pouches on the leather utility belt he wore. With Henry in charge, the former leader had returned to a far more casual style of attire. A dark green shirt, brown pants, and his old utility belt alongside his grey hat and his black leather gloves. “I worry a younger version of myself may hurt your feelings… or do any number of foolish things…”

Right snorted. “So, you were an idiot ten years ago, you still ‘ad more sense than me an’ I’m just happy spending time with you. Doesn’t matter if we’re starting from square one all the time, it’s you I care about, not our relationship Reg…”

Reginald smiled softly at the remark. “Yes well, one of us has to worry about this whole mess you’re in.”

Right performed one last check of the items he packed. A small, solar powered portable charger for his cybernetics, some food, a few bottles of water, and a tent. Zipping the bag up, he got up and left it on the floor. He pointed at the book. “Any new ones for me?”

Reginald held out the book. “Take a look for yourself.”

With a raised brow, the cyborg accepted the book and read the new message.

Steampunkserpent,

Yo Right Hand man, what do you think if dipping fries in milkshakes and then eating it? Kinda like dipping fries in ketchup, for context.

Wordlessly, Right pulled out his pen.

I’ve had a milkshake after eating chips, can’t say I’ve combined them like that though. Sounds interesting.

He sat down and showed his response to Reginald, who grinned.

The good mood didn’t last, Right sagged, staring down at his lap. “We need to get in contact with Lora, she might be caught up in this time loop too.”

“Are you sure?”

Right nodded and gestured at the book. “She’s never gotten in touch with the clan before now, something’s up.”

Lora stared at her notebook. Worry, shock, and dread swirled around her mind in a violent storm of emotions.

Anon,

I mean, Right is technically fine, only he's half metal now, and Reginald got dethroned by a guy called Henry Stickmin, heard of him before? On a different note, the three of them are aware of you being in trouble thanks to Burt and Henry is fine with both finding you and having you re-join the Toppats if you wish to do so.

“What?” she said meekly. “Half metal?”

She scrambled to find something in her coat pocket and pulled out an old mobile phone and a piece of paper with a phone number written on it in her brother’s familiar handwriting. Fighting against the slowly mounting panic, she dialled the number and held the phone up to her left ear silently praying it was still valid.

The two men were surprised when a ringtone blared loudly from the inside of Right’s coat. The cyborg fumbled to pull out a battered phone and answered it.

“’Ello?”

Right was stunned at hearing his sister say his name in near panic. “- are you alright? I got told you’re half metal!”

“’M fine Lora, just a bit banged up, had to get cybernetic enhancements to compensate. I’m fine.” Right stressed and Reginald looked just as surprised as Right felt.

“Cybernetics? Holy shit…How bad is it?”

“… The left side of my head, right arm, everything from the waist down, an’ most of my digestive system…” Right admitted. “Doubles as life support.”

“Oh my God… Okay, okay, I’ll just…”

“Loz? Hey, I’m alright,” Right said reassuringly. “I’ve got permission to bring you back to the clan, where are you?”

“You are in no shape to come save my arse,” Lora replied, sounding worried. “I’ll come to you.”

Right was confused. “How?”

“I still have my magic Red.”

Right had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what she was going to do. “Lora, don’t, just get somewhere safe, we’ll send someone to pick you up.”

Lora could feel her magic reacting to her heightened levels of stress and worry. The urge to do something, to help, was almost all-consuming.

“I’m fine.” Her brother stressed.

“You’re not fine! I’m not going to put your health at risk for my sake!” she argued.

There was a noise on the other end, a brief exchange of words she couldn’t hear, and the sound of the phone being handed to someone else.

“Lora,” Reginald said seriously. “What are you planning, your brother is worried sick.”

“…My Shadow, I plan on calling upon my Shadow.” She explained. Her brother had his Spirit, whereas she had her Shadow.

“The current chief has no idea what you’re capable of, if he learns you can transform…” Reginald trailed off. “You’re not meant for the battlefield.”

“I don’t care what the chief thinks,” Lora said. “You and Red are my priority, not some god damn ding-dong that took over the clan for shits and giggles.”

“Are you sure you can return to normal once you reach the airship?”

“Reg, embracing my Shadow doesn’t make me lose my marbles, I’m still me in there.” She said matter-of-factly.

“I know… very well, I’ll clear the cargo bay and hopefully our esteemed leader takes this all in stride… Stay safe, it’ll be good to have you back with us Bluebird.”

“I’ll do my best Greenbean, look after Red for me.”

“Of course.”

Lora hung up, checked the time, and tucked the phone back into the inside of her coat. She focused on keeping her breathing calm as her mind went a mile a minute, her magic thrummed along to the beat of her heart, and she struggled to keep her emotions under control.

“Okay… I’ve got to grab my bag from where they locked it up in storage, get the hell out of here, and get to the airship on the other side of the world,” she said to herself as she walked towards the exit. “I can do this…I’m just, running away, with magic, I can do that. Always running from something.”

[Lora is temporarily unavailable for asks during her break-out, which will be shown in the next segment] 

[Mod: Things are bit hectic in real life right now, but I’ll try to stick to the weekly schedule as much as I can!]

[With that said, Right Hand Man and Reginald are still available for asks, have fun]

[jingabitch]

An Arrangement for Convenience ch.2

Summary: It's ridiculous that girl groups aren't allowed to date, and are kept under such strict lock and key that they can't satisfy their desires. Enter Ha-eun, YG's solution to the problem.

Pairings: Jisoo x oc, eventual ot4 x oc

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving) | sex work

A/N: Wrote this a while back and posted on ao3; reposting here because I want to be more active on this platform. While I currently have 8 chapters written which I will be releasing on Tumblr gradually, I am currently on hiatus due to school and work commitments and will not be actively writing and posting new stuff until the semester ends in December.

Series index

Ha-eun had a questionnaire that she usually ran through with clients that expressed interest in a sexual relationship, detailing both the kind of sexual experience they would like and any kinks or unique things they were interested in trying. It was an adaptation of a BDSM negotiation form she’d found online, and something she considered to be one of the most important steps in understanding what her clients wanted, and whether or not she was the right person to be providing such services for them.

Since she’d already signed the contract with YG, she figured it was a little too late to back out, but she still wanted to run through the questionnaires with the girls to make sure everyone was on the same page. She took her job seriously, after all. It didn’t need to be just about getting off - they could have fun and keep things interesting in pursuit of that goal.

Retrieving her phone from the bag she’d dropped by the door, Ha-eun settled back into the bed next to Jennie, leaning against the pillows as she pulled up the questionnaire. “Okay, here we go,” she said, passing the phone to Jennie to fill in. “We can fill this in together, or you can do it alone if you prefer. Oh, and you should probably use a code name because this is a Google form and I don’t think it’s the most secure.”

Jennie blinked at the phone suddenly in her hand. “This is… very detailed,” she observed, scrolling through the survey.

“Yeah, I like to make sure I know what my clients want and need,” Ha-eun explained. “Do you want me to stay or go?”

Jennie blushed and cleared her throat, not sure why she felt shy having Ha-eun here while she answered the questionnaire about what she liked in bed when Ha-eun was going to see it later (and hopefully help her make some of her fantasies come true). Ha-eun, thankfully, understood what Jennie was too shy to say, kissing her cheek and stepping off the bed to wriggle back into her skirt before emerging.

“Oh, wait -” Jennie tried to stop Ha-eun, to let her know that her lipstick was hopelessly smudged, but when Ha-eun turned back with a questioning smile, she changed her mind and shook her head. Let the rest of the girls see what Ha-eun had been up to. It wasn’t like they didn’t already know. It was what she was there for, after all.

“Hi,” Ha-eun said as she padded barefoot back out to the living area of the apartment. She saw that some of the girls had house slippers, but she’d been lazy to borrow a pair earlier.

“Ha-eun-ah, come sit,” Lisa invited before she even turned around to see the younger girl coming up behind her. “Do you want - woah,” she cut herself off to gape at Ha-eun.

“What’s wrong?” Ha-eun asked, sitting on the floor facing Lisa and Chaeyoung who were on the couch.

“Um…” Chaeyoung fumbled for the mirror in her purse, then handed it to Ha-eun so she could inspect the damage.

“Oh,” Ha-eun said as she inspected her lipstick, which had smudged all over her cheeks and chin now. She shrugged and asked blithely, “Can I borrow some makeup wipes?”

“Yeah, let me just go get them for you -” Chaeyoung said, disappearing into her room for a moment before reemerging with the packet of wipes. She sat back down next to Lisa and the two of them watched Ha-eun carefully.

“What’s up?” Ha-eun asked as she cleaned her makeup off, sensing their gazes on her.

They both smirked at her. “We heard the two of you in there; you really worked her over,” Lisa started with a mischievous smile.

Ha-eun hummed in acknowledgement. “I’m good at my job, is all,” she said with a wink. It seemed that making Jennie come as hard as she had restored the balance in the universe. Even though she knew the two of them were trying to make her uncomfortable and shy like they had in the meeting room at the YG headquarters, she was confident enough now that it wouldn’t be so easy to make her uneasy.

Cleaning the last of the lipstick smears off her cheek, Ha-eun added, “I also just really love eating pussy,” just to see if she could turn the tables on them.

And she did, kind of. She could see in their eyes that they weren’t unaffected, but they were far from flustered as she had been. Chaeyoung leaned forward almost predatorily, and Ha-eun was sure it was only the way Lisa caught her arm warningly that saved her. “Jisoo-unnie will kill you,” Lisa cautioned softly.

Chaeyoung subsided, leaning back against the couch and crossing one leg over the other, though she still stared at Ha-eun way too intensely. “That’s right,” she acknowledged coolly. “You should go look for Jisoo-unnie. She’s been waiting for you in her room.”

Raising a brow at the almost ominous word choice, Ha-eun excused herself and went to Jisoo’s door, which was shut. She knocked politely. “Jisoo-unnie?”

“Come in,” the older girl said breathlessly.

Ha-eun entered the room and giggled when she saw Jisoo on the bed, her back arched as she held a vibrator between her legs.

“Is that the infamous vibrator you stole?” she asked, going over to stand beside the bed, a brow raised.

“Mm-hmm,” Jisoo moaned breathily.

Ha-eun giggled. “You know, Jennie-unnie’s really pissed about it,” she said conspiratorially as she sat down next to Jisoo, then lay on her stomach, her chin propped up on her fist as she watched the other girl bit her lip.

“Mm, Jennie needs to learn - oh - how to share.”

Ha-eun drifted her fingers up the inside of Jisoo’s thigh lightly, teasingly, enjoying the way the muscle quivered and tensed. Lowering her face to Jisoo’s, she breathed, “Don’t you think you can afford to return that to Jennie-unnie?”

Jisoo’s eyes shot open, and the hand that wasn’t holding the vibrator came up to squeeze Ha-eun’s cheeks uncomfortably. “Are you telling me what to do now, little girl?”

Ha-eun swallowed hard. “No, Jisoo-unnie,” she whispered.

“Good girl.” Jisoo gave her a satisfied little smile, then pushed her face away. “I want you to watch and learn.”

Biting her lip, Ha-eun nodded as she sat back, then moved so that she was lying on her belly between Jisoo’s legs, her knees bent and ankles crossed over each other. She looked so innocent that she could have been watching TV at home, and the idea that Jisoo was corrupting the younger girl was so potent that she shuddered and gasped, her arousal dripping on the vibrator.

Ha-eun watched, as if transfixed, as Jisoo slowly pumped the vibrator in and out of herself. She could see now why Jennie was so attached to it - it really did look like it could work you over, with the rabbit ears and the crook near the tip that made sure it would push right against the g-spot.

Jisoo moaned, her abs tensing, as she neared her climax, barely moving the vibrator as she pressed it to her clit and g-spot simultaneously. When she came, a fresh wave of juices dripped down the vibrator as Ha-eun pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, as if praising what she’d done. Jisoo continued rocking the vibrator in and out as she worked through her orgasm, then removed it.

Holding the vibrator up, Jisoo beckoned Ha-eun closer to her, and when she obligingly crawled forward slightly, lying on her side with her face level with Jisoo’s shoulder, Jisoo held the vibrator in front of her lips expectantly.

Opening her mouth, Ha-eun allowed Jisoo to slide the vibrator in, sucking the juices slowly off it. “How does it taste, Ha-eun-ah?” Jisoo crooned, watching intently as the younger girl cleaned off the vibrator with her tongue.

“It tastes so good, Jisoo-unnie,” Ha-eun mumbled around the vibrator in her mouth.

Jisoo smirked. “Maybe one day if you’re good enough, I’ll let you taste it from the source,” she taunted, pulling the vibrator away from Ha-eun, who whimpered in disappointment like a child with her favourite treat taken away from her… which she supposed was an accurate comparison to make.

Pushing Ha-eun’s shoulder till she got the hint and lay on her back on the bed, Jisoo sat up and clicked the vibrator on and off a few times. “We should return this to Jennie,” she mused, as if to herself.

Her eyes then landed on Ha-eun, watching her intently. “Ha-eun-ah, should we give the vibrator one last farewell before we return it?”

Ha-eun bit her lip. “Yes, Jisoo-unnie,” she agreed breathlessly.

Jisoo smiled in satisfaction. “You’re wearing too many clothes, though,” she observed, her head cocked.

Gulping, Ha-eun’s hands immediately flew to her blouse, undoing the buttons quickly and shrugging out of it, then to her skirt, unzipping and wriggling out of it. Clad only in her underwear, she bit her lip and looked at Jisoo for approval.

Jisoo just raised a brow, looking unimpressed.

Swallowing hard, Ha-eun arched her back so she could fit her hands between her body and the bed to undo the clasp on the bra, drawing it down her arms, then hooked her fingers in the waistband of her thong and pulled it off.

Finally, Jisoo’s features relaxed, allowing a faint glimmer of approval to peek through the dispassionate expression on her face. “Good girl,” she crooned, nudging Ha-eun’s legs apart as she sat between them, in an almost complete reversal of their earlier positions.

Ha-eun bit her lip, trying not to squirm in anticipation.

Running her fingers down Ha-eun’s slit, Jisoo smirked as she collected some of the wetness seeping out. “You’re a horny little thing, aren’t you?” she commented.

Ha-eun shuddered. It was normal for her to be wet, she wanted to defend herself. She’d just eaten Jennie out, then watched Jisoo work herself to orgasm with her vibrator. But Jisoo’s almost neutral expression, as if she was commenting on the weather in a conversation with a random stranger rather than fingering Ha-eun, caught her tongue.

Jisoo turned on the vibrator again, on the lowest setting, then pressed it delicately against Ha-eun. Unbearably turned on at this point, Ha-eun jolted at the faint touch on her clit, sucking in a breath.

Flicking her eyes up at Ha-eun, Jisoo applied more pressure on the vibrator. Ha-eun moaned and arched her back, but the vibrator was still on its lowest setting, and the sensations were almost-there-but-not-quite.

“Jisoo-unnie, please…” Ha-eun begged, biting her lip.

“Please what, Ha-eun-ah? Use your words,” Jisoo cooed, refusing to give Ha-eun what she wanted so easily.

“Please, the vibrator… higher,” Ha-eun gasped out, her breath leaving her lungs when Jisoo pushed the button to increase the setting just a little.

“Like this?” she asked innocently, starting to fuck into Ha-eun with the vibrator now.

“More… please,” Ha-eun pleaded, her hips starting to move in rhythm with Jisoo.

Smiling at the younger girl under her, Jisoo finally gave in, remembering that Ha-eun had been a good girl for both her and Jennie since they’d been at the YG building earlier that afternoon, and deserved a treat. Turning the vibrator up some more, she let Ha-eun rock on it to her heart’s content, patiently waiting for her to come on it.

When Ha-eun finally relaxed and quieted, Jisoo pulled the vibrator out of Ha-eun, smirking at the lewd sound it made.

“Damn,” Ha-eun said, blinking slowly as a satisfied smile curled her lips. “Jennie-unnie wasn’t exaggerating about that vibrator.”

Jisoo laughed a little. “No, she wasn’t,” she agreed, handing it over to Ha-eun, who took it slightly hesitantly. “I think you should return it to her now,” she said with a wink. “After all, I don’t need it anymore.” She bopped Ha-eun’s nose childishly as she said it.

Ha-eun rolled her eyes. Both of them now had said basically the same thing, but she supposed she was basically a human sex toy for the four of them, so it wasn’t like she could complain.

She reached for her clothes so she could get dressed and leave the room, but Jisoo snatched them out of the way before she could get to them. “You don’t need these in the apartment,” she said, gathering them in a bunch.

Ha-eun sighed. “Are you really going to make me go out there naked?” she whined. “Lisa-unnie and Chaeyoung-unnie might still be out there!”

Jisoo raised a brow. “And?”

She had a point there. Getting naked with the other two girls was an inevitability at this point.

“All right, fine,” Ha-eun surrendered with another sigh, getting up and going to the door with the vibrator in her hand. With her hand on the doorknob, she turned back with a hopeful look at Jisoo, hoping the older girl would laugh and say, “Just kidding!” or something, but Jisoo had busied herself folding Ha-eun’s clothes, and wasn’t even looking at her.

Reluctantly, Ha-eun opened the door and stuck her head out, hoping that the other girls would have retired to their rooms. Jennie’s bedroom was right next to Jisoo’s, so if she could just nip in really quick…

“Wow, Jisoo-unnie works fast, doesn’t she?” Chaeyoung said from behind Ha-eun, causing her to leap in the air in shock. She whipped around to stare at the other girl, her heart still pounding in her chest.

“Oh, my God!” Ha-eun gasped, sagging against the wall. “You almost killed me,” she protested.

Chaeyoung rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic,” she chastised, although the effect was ruined by the way she was blatantly checking Ha-eun out. “What do you have there?” she asked, leering at the vibrator in Ha-eun’s hands.

“Um, Jisoo-unnie wanted me to return this to Jennie-unnie…” Ha-eun said lamely, flushing.

“Well, you’d better get on that like a good girl, then,” Chaeyoung said, and Ha-eun smiled gratefully, thinking the other girl was finally taking some pity on her. When she turned away, starting to make the short walk to Jennie’s bedroom, Chaeyoung proved that she wasn’t that kind by adding, “You’re going to be such a good girl for me too, won’t you?”

Stopping, Ha-eun turned to stare at Chaeyoung, but the other girl was already walking away, her back to Ha-eun so she couldn’t see the grin on her face.

Wondering how it was that seemingly every member of Blackpink was a dominant, since it seemed statistically almost impossible, Ha-eun knocked on Jennie’s door hesitantly.

“Come in,” Jennie said from the other side of the door, and Ha-eun entered, feeling more embarrassed about her nudity than before when she saw Jennie in her glasses, sitting at her desk using her laptop.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Jennie said, her brow raised as she took in Ha-eun’s nude form.

Ha-eun cleared her throat. “Yeah, Jisoo-unnie confiscated my clothes,” she explained.

Jennie hummed. “Jisoo-unnie might be on to something,” she said, before her eyes landed on the vibrator in Ha-eun’s hands.

“Is that…” she said suspiciously.

“Uh, yeah, Jisoo-unnie told me to return it to you since she doesn’t need it anymore,” Ha-eun said in a small voice, holding the vibrator out to Jennie.

Taking it back, Jennie inspected it. “She didn’t even clean it before she returned it?!” she asked, incensed. “That bitch -” she started to stand up.

In a panic, Ha-eun held her hands out placatingly. “No, no,” she rushed out. “She had me clean it after she used it, but um…” she trailed off, not sure how to explain that it was her on the vibrator.

“Yes?” Jennie asked with faux patience, and Ha-eun could tell that she’d better say something soon, or Jennie was going to lose her temper for real.

“Um, she used it on me, and then told me to return it… sorry, I wasn’t really thinking,” Ha-eun apologized, reaching out to take the vibrator back. “I’ll just go wash it and bring it back…”

Now that she knew the truth, Jennie’s anger evaporated. “Hmm…” she said, bringing the vibrator closer to her face. “This is all you?”

Ha-eun cringed. Somehow the way Jennie said it, with that interested yet dispassionate tone, made her squirm uncomfortably. Unable to say a word, she just nodded.

Jennie smiled at her, now understanding that Jisoo had sent her an apology. “All right, tell Jisoo thanks for me, will you?” she said. “Your phone is there, by the way. I sent the questionnaire to the other members too,” she said, nodding at the foot of the bed.

“All right. Thank you,” Ha-eun said slightly hesitantly. It seemed she had been dismissed, and she grabbed her things and left. Checking the time on the phone, she swore. It was already five-thirty, and she was supposed to be back at home to have dinner with her brother at six.

Returning to the living area, she smiled when she saw that her clothes had been folded up neatly and placed on the coffee table. Everyone seemed to have disappeared into their rooms, so she got dressed and packed up. She’d been wondering if Chaeyoung and Lisa might want to have a turn, but she figured they would contact her soon enough and she could just owe them one for the time being.

“Bye, see you guys soon!” she called as she let herself out. Fortunately, she didn’t live that far from the Blackpink dorms, so she was able to walk home while calling for delivery so it would arrive on time. Calling a greeting to her brother as she entered her home, she hastily went to take a quick shower and brush her teeth so he wouldn’t be able to smell what she’d been up to when he came to hug her, which was the way they usually greeted each other.

He had enough on his plate; he didn’t need to worry himself knowing about what his sister was getting up to to get the money for his treatment, she decided as she dropped her clothes in the hamper and got in the shower. Whatever happened, her brother must stay innocent.

[avengerofiron]

calls of guilty || self para

summary: there’s been a lot of times in tony’s life when he’s been advised to stop talking. these are two of those times. trigger warnings: child abuse, homophobia/biphobia, drugs, alcoholism, manipulative family relationships everywhere, cancer, death, grief

December 16, 1987

Edwin and Ana Jarvis were in the Maldives this Christmas. It was the first year in Tony’s considerable memory that they wouldn’t be there for the roast dinner — the year before Tony was born, three months before Maria said she was pregnant, was the last time they found themselves on a beach sipping margaritas as the world celebrated. That was eighteen years ago.

They deserved a holiday, Maria said. They deserved a break, deserved to go to a place with only the two of them, no responsibilities (her eyes flickered to Tony on the other side of the dining room table), no headaches (she didn’t dare to look at Howard, instead focused on the half eaten steak on her plate).

Jarvis gave Tony his present early. There was another one coming on Christmas Day, he said, because Howard wouldn’t have allowed Tony to open the gifts before the 25th of the month, and even at that only with his express permission. The butler wanted to see the look on Tony’s face, though, when he opened something. He said that was the best part of Christmas. Tony held himself back from asking why he would leave, if Tony was the glittering star on top of the tree.

He wasn’t a child anymore. He was seventeen, and expected to act like it.

The gift was brought out of the leather carry case as Tony rolled up to the Stark mansion, back from boarding school on holiday leave. He would’ve preferred to stay on campus — Tiberius was, along with some of the other boys that Tony didn’t find entirely grim to listen to, but Howard wanted them to have family time. Wife’s orders, he joked to the headmaster over the phone. Tony knew it before Mr. Barker told him. Howard made the same joke all the time.

It was a notebook. Leather bound, a buckle on the front like a belt. The pages were thick, yellowing around the corners. It was, for all intents and purposes, meant to look extremely old, even if Tony had been handed it with the barcode label still attached to the back. This was the kind of book we used in the war, Jarvis said, and Tony looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Your father always liked to write his ideas.

If Howard liked to write, it stood to reason Tony would too. Tony thanked Jarvis for the gift, held onto the older man so tightly he must’ve bruised a few ribs, and made the resolution never to look at the notebook again.

It was a good distraction tonight, though. As he picked through his food, appetite rarely there when he was away from the hustle and bustle of the school dining hall, Tony was sketching down schematics, eraser shavings from his pencil leaving a light dusting over the dark mahogany. His parents were talking at opposite ends of the table long enough for entertaining, that rarely saw parties when Tony was home.

Home.

“Howard, please.”

His mother’s voice was far away, light and lilting in the conscious way she performed as she swept through galas and charity balls. Tony erased the last formula, eyebrows furrowing as he tried out another.

“No, Maria, it’s ridiculous. All this money spent on sending him to that school, and it turns him into a goddamn mute.”

“Howard.”

“It’s true. Am I not allowed to say the truth now? Come on, speak.”

A few moments passed before Tony realised the underwater conversation halted. He looked up from his notebook and half eaten dinner to find two pairs of brown eyes looking back at him. No one could ever decide who Tony’s came from. Obie maintained it depended on the light.

He wished Obie was here now. His godfather had a unique way of diffusing the tension, of following Tony out after all was said and done and reassuring him that no matter how dramatically he left, someone would always come out after.

“He’ll speak when he wants to,” Maria said, as Tony met Howard’s hard gaze. “Won’t you, Anthony?”

His focus flickered back to his mother. “It’s Tony.”

Howard’s fork clattered off the plate. Tony didn’t startle, though he wanted to. Howard’s voice was still perfectly clear, his expression impassive. If he thought Tony was jumpy, he would get offended. Tony wasn’t trying to offend.

He still managed to regardless.

“Your mother gave you life,” Howard said. “She can call you whatever she damn well pleases.”

“He’s fine,” Maria interjected. “He doesn’t like the formality of Anthony, do you-”

“You coddle him.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is his problem. At that school, everyone bends over backwards, don’t they?”

Tony didn’t reply. Sometimes, Howard asked questions he didn’t want answers to. Maria never quite got that memo.

“I wouldn’t say they-”

“He’s never needed to work for anything in his life. He’s soft. I told you military school would turn him into something.”

“He already is something. He’s a Stark.”

“Banking off my good name, you mean.”

“Our good name.”

“Did you build the company, Maria? Stick to your pet projects, would you, and let me raise our son to be-”

Tony went back to his notebook. The dorm room he shared with Rhodes was too hot in summer, too cold in winter. They’d tried calling estates, to no avail. Even the Stark name his parents were bragging about didn’t swing for much, not when it was a seventeen year old kid and his slightly older roommate putting in the complaint, having no idea how exactly to complain. Tony had taken to pulling apart the air con and heating units himself. He fixed the issue, but now he wanted to make it better. He wanted their room to be the best. He wanted to leave his initials etched into the side of the radiator, so whoever occupied the dorm when he graduated would say boy, this T.S. guy really is something, look at what he left us, look at how he planned …

“For God’s sake!” The words came suddenly, and Howard’s fist was against the table. The maids glanced at each other on the other side of the room, and made the executive decision to duck out of the room. Maria was staring at him, wide eyed.

Tony jumped.

Howard’s attention was solely on him. “Will you speak?”

Tony set his pencil down, slowly. He looked down at the eraser shavings over the wood, and slowly began brushing it off onto the ground. He didn’t need to see Howard’s jaw clenching. “What would you like me to discuss, Howard?”

The plate rattled on the table. The cutlery dropped to the ground, and Maria’s hand went to Howard’s arm. He was up out of his seat now, and Tony’s heart picked up speed in his chest.

Tony lifted his own fork, stabbing a piece of the steak. “A little overdone,” Tony commented, chewing slowly, “don’t you think?”

“You little shit.”

“Howard.”

“This is what that Stone boy is putting in your head, isn’t it? Attitude.”

“He’s putting plenty in me,” Tony replied, evenly, “but the attitude is all my own.”

Maria’s head whipped around to look at her son, then. “Anthony.”

“Tony,” he corrected.

“Don’t talk back to your mother,” Howard said, and he was seething now. This was a new record. “And keep your perversions from the table.”

“You jealous?”

Howard actually spluttered at that. He wasn’t sitting down, but he wasn’t moving, either. Tony would have to push a little harder. “I have everything I need.”

“Oh I’m sure you do,” Tony replied, leaning over the table to take the glass of wine from its place beside Howard’s plate. It was overfilled, but it was never the flavor Howard drank for. He kicked back in his chair, taking a long gulp before adding, “With the maid.”

“Tony.”

“You are an ungrateful, spiteful-”

“And the nanny,” Tony mused, swirling the wine around the glass. It was a wonder, what with the slight tremor in his hands, the red liquid didn’t spill over and splash onto his new jeans. “That one from Brazil, Mom, you remember her? You used to go to yoga together. Then you went to the showers, and Dad decided to give her the good old Stark welcome-”

Maria opened her mouth, and closed it again. Howard was grinding his teeth so hard now that Tony could feel the shudder up his back.

“Oh! My therapist, back in the day. I always wondered, you know, what happened to her. Then I found out Dad fucked-”

That was it. That was enough, the moment of impact. Within an instant, the glass in Tony’s hand crashed to the ground, his shoes stained in red. He was pulled from his chair, and Howard’s arm was pressed against his chest, Tony’s back against the wall.

He could see everything, here. The vein popping out on the side of his father’s head, the sweat appearing on his upper lip just at the sides of his moustache, the clench in his jaw, the high color creeping up his neck. Tony’s feet were on the ground but only barely, his heart was flying so fast in his chest that he knew Howard had to be able to feel it against his strong arm, and all he could think was keep going. Keep going, let it happen, let it be over.

It always ended with a bang. It always ended with a crack, or a sudden moment of impact, a second of splintering pain and then the room would be empty and it would be over. The build up was always the worst. He expected this, coming home. He expected it every single time, and he was right. There wasn’t an equation out there with the reliability Howard Stark showed in his reactions.

Maria was crying, now. Tony can hear her screaming, vacantly, in the same distant way as he always heard his mother yelling. Howard. Howard, please. Put him down. He didn’t mean it, he’s just a-

The phone rang in the kitchen. Immediately, air rushed into Tony’s lungs again, and he was dropped to the ground. Howard cast one more sharp glance in his direction before making his way towards the other room.

“Carter,” his voice echoed through, jovial and friendly. “You’re interrupting our family dinner.”

The rest of the conversation was blocked out as Howard hooked his foot around the door, pulling it closed behind him.

With that barrier in place, Maria crossed the dining room, by Tony’s side in an instant. He was shaking. He noticed that, first. He was shaking so hard he couldn’t stop, and his teeth were chattering, and all he wanted was that brief, sharp moment. He was still waiting for it, even now. He didn’t know what it would be, and it was easier to deal with a bruise he could see. It was the waiting, the anticipation, that was the worst.

He was on the ground. His mother’s hands were in his hair, on the side of his face, running down as she pressed kisses that would leave lipstick stains over his cheeks and forehead. “Oh bambino,” she whispered, her voice desperate and thready, a shadow of her former mask. “Tua mamma ha te. Your mom has you, you’re okay.”

He’s crying. He doesn’t feel it, but he is. There is salt on his lips, and he can feel his mother’s hands getting wet.

“You used to be best friends, il mio cuore,” Maria whispered, her mouth going to the top of Tony’s head, her words muffled by his thick curls — those, at least, he inherited from her. All the good parts of him, all the parts that were worth it, came from her. “What happened, my darling?”

“He got to know me?” Tony offered, and Maria huffed a laugh, wet and thick and nothing like her normal. “Hey, Mom. It’s okay.”

She shifted, and instinctively, Tony moved until they were both leaning against the wall, his mother curling into his shoulder, head on his chest, his hands going to stroke through her hair, instead. “I’m okay. Nothing happened,” Tony said.

“He misses you when you’re gone, you know. He misses you more than you could ever know.”

Tony didn’t doubt that. He knew what went through Howard’s mind at that moment, in that second before the impact hit, before the meteor tore apart what they’d built. He knew how that power sat on his shoulders.

“You can be so difficult, Tony.”

A wave of something foreign goes through him. “I wasn’t-”

“He’s just trying to relate to you, to talk to you. Why don’t you try?”

He did try. He tried all the time. He came to his office with toy planes when he was six years old, and had them thrown onto the ground because they’d been invented before. He came to him in the kitchen and told him he kissed a boy, and spent the week in gym class trying to hide the hand shaped bruise on his wrist.

“He is so busy, and he’s so tired, Anthony. He misses you when you’re gone.”

You said that. She kept saying that. Tony’s hand didn’t still in her hair.

“I can’t stay here, Mom,” Tony whispered.

She moved, then, pushed herself up and looked him in the eye with sudden, devastating clarity. “You can’t leave me,” she said. Her hands went to his face, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe as she turned his head to face her properly. “Please. Just … just apologise, and it’ll be alright. He’s a reasonable man.”

Reasonable.

“You have no idea how much he does for you, Anthony. How much he protects you.”

“I know he does,” Tony said, because he was still shaking, now, and the last thing he wanted was for his mother to pull back from him, to be left sitting on the hardwood floor alone until Jarvis came to scrape him up — it would be three weeks of waiting for that, this time. “I’ll apologise, okay? I shouldn’t have … I was a dick.”

“Language,” Maria said, and there was a hint of teasing to her voice that made Tony huff a humorless laugh. “You’re my amazing boy, you know that?” She leaned in, pressing a long, lingering kiss to his cheek. Tony’s hand went to settle over hers as she did. “You are so good, Anthony. You are the best boy I’ve ever met.”

They lapsed into a moment of silence, and then Tony disentangled himself from his mother, feeling like he was coming off a high and living in anticipation of one all at the same time. This wasn’t the end. It wouldn’t be, ever. He moved over to the table, picking up his notebook that had splatters of wine across the pages.

“Do you want to show me what you’re working on?” Maria asked. Tony didn’t turn to the sound of her voice. He shook his head.

“Not tonight,” he replied. He knew she wouldn’t ask again. She was always so busy.

Maria moved up beside him, her hand going to squeeze his shoulder. He flinched, but she didn’t notice. She never did. “Just …” She took a long, deep breath. “Just promise me you’ll learn when to say quiet, Anthony.”

Tony looked down at the schematics, then up at his mother. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Staying quiet meant living in the in between. Speaking up, speaking out … that meant having one hand on the wheel of a car destined to go over the edge of the cliff.

His mother was better at silence. She didn’t talk to him for the three weeks he spent in the mansion, not after that night.

(The next morning, he called Ty and cancelled their plans to meet for coffee. He had the flu, he said — and Ty said he didn’t care, that he’d look just as good as he always did, frustrating bastard that you are. Tony laughed, then, but he remained firm. Apologies weren’t meant to end with purple splotches Ray Bans couldn’t cover. Tony figured he must be really bad at them, because this happened every time.)

--

April 4, 2020

Ultron hadn’t murdered him. Small blessings Tony supposed as he glanced down at the interface of his smart watch, the floors of Stark Tower (Avengers Tower, legally speaking, even if the ‘A’ was more of a kick in the teeth than a comfort at this point) whirring past as the elevator moved. The good Secretary had been avoiding his calls. Tony expected it was down to the little show he put on for Christine Everhart, a woman who always knew just how to get under his skin and make him say what he was really thinking. It was an uncanny ability, endlessly irritating, but he had to admit that something in his chest had lifted the second those words left his lips on the air.

After all, it was one thing to say the truth when it was just Steve standing in front of him, or when he was divulging his movements and intelligence shifting to Sharon or Jessica. It was another to bring the world in on those secrets, the things that Tony managed to hide with a sarcastic disposition and a cavalier demeanour. Oh, what the world didn’t know about him.

They knew a lot more now.

It was better, he mused to himself as he stepped out of the elevator, the heels of his leather shoes clacking on the polished concrete as he walked towards the conference hall. It was better to get it all out in the open like that, better to poke the bear and let the battle commence. It was better to burn his company to the ground in 2009 and rebuild from the ashes than try to cling to what had always been his father’s legacy and not his own, allowing the blood to continue to run. Really, Tony was doing what he always did. Mass impact, minimal casualties (or at least, minimal timespan for the casualties. The greatest damage was done immediately after the fact, and from what he could see, as had been the truth when he was a child, the only damage done was to his own fine self).

“General,” Tony said, breezing into the conference room with his hands neatly tucked into the pockets of his open suit jacket. The General was alone. Usually he came accompanied by several lackeys, even if one of them seemed to do nothing but pass over pages and keep his pencil sharpened. “Oh,” he commented, eyes drifting over the table before returning to the rapidly ageing man before him, “I guess I’m getting a real dressing down today. Should I prepare a nice hot bubble bath to salve the wounds of my fractured ego?”

The moustache became even straighter as the lips underneath it tightened. A miniscule twitch, barely enough for poker players to pick up on, but Tony knew how to get under people’s skin. It was why he and Christine got on so swimmingly.

“Sit down, Stark.”

Tony sniffed. “I’ve sat all day,” he replied. “Board meetings are killer for the old knees. I’d prefer to stand.”

“Just because you prefer something,” Ross began, reaching for the cup of coffee sitting on the table, “doesn’t mean that’s what has to happen, Stark.”

“Really? See, I grew up an only child, and private school didn’t exactly get me in the habit of not getting what-”

“The interview was sloppy.”

Tony looked back out at the skyline. “I don’t think it was my worst.”

“It was far from your best. You’re not just representing your own interests now. You’re representing ours.”

“Funny,” Tony commented, shifting his weight. “You say ‘ours’ like that’s supposed to endear me to this little teamworking endeavour. It doesn’t really.”

“Fury was of the opinion that you’d changed, that the Avengers made you a team player,” Ross continued. “I told him old dogs couldn’t learn new tricks.”

“Hm,” Tony murmured. “Harsh. I thought the dye was working wonders on the grey. You see, the Avengers taught me a little something about teamwork, i.e. you can’t be in a team if you don’t tell that team what’s going down.”

Ross didn’t speak for a long moment. Tony didn’t take his eyes off the cityscape in front of him. There was a vigilante - someone in black, perhaps with hints of green - fighting a ninja on a rooftop. Good for him.

“Ultron came to visit,” Tony said. “You can imagine my surprise when my lunch plans were interrupted by a genocidal robot I had a personal hand in killing.”

“And creating.”

“Because all of my creations are something I am proud of, undoubtedly.”

“You still put him in the universe, Stark.”

“Not alone.”

“Is this accountability?”

“I think you’ll find it’s the very definition,” Tony replied. “Ultron was my idea. I didn’t execute him alone. His programming was altered by something that we can’t hope to understand, and that’s why he belonged buried under the rubble of the country he dropped from the sky.”

“Everything has a purpose,” Ross continued, “and he wasn’t my idea.”

Tony turned, then, to meet Ross’s eye. The man didn’t squirm in his seat, but he never had before. Iron will, that’s what they said. Starks were made of iron too. Tony could rise to the challenge.

“Sorry if I doubt that.”

Ross shrugged, then. An honest to God, hand on heart, shrug. Interesting. “Believe what you want,” he said, “but Ultron’s presence doesn’t follow through on my views for the Accords.”

“Because you want your finger in every pie?” Tony offered, and Ross’s eyes moved up to meet his gaze.

Slowly, the older man stood up from his seat. Tony didn’t falter, didn’t move from the spot he was standing. Suddenly, he wished he’d brought a drink, just to hold in his hand. Things always went better when he had some whiskey and ice rocking around in glass, when the sound could soothe him, when he could appear entirely at ease, when he had something in his hand that could get him there.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” Ross said, voice low. “I’m in charge here, Stark. You’re the face of this thing because while you were flying around in a flashy metal suit, I was serving in the military. I was changing this country before you were born. If you ever put the reputation of this Panel in jeopardy again, there will be consequences.”

Tony tilted his head, pretending to ponder this over. “Huh,” he said, before inclining his head towards Ross. “I thought I was the one dealing out the consequences, hm? Or do my figures not match up?”

“They match up to the letter, which you know. Barely enough won’t be good enough, soon. Not to mention your other … indiscretions.”

Indiscretions was hardly a word that shocked Tony at this point, but he stopped then. There was something in Ross’s gaze that made his blood go cold, and suddenly he thought of blond hair and bright blue eyes that were nothing like the steel going through him now, and a shield and information passed regularly with a kiss pressed to his forehead.

“You operate that armor under the influence,” Ross continued, barely loud enough to be heard, “whether that’s an undisclosed medical condition or you taking matters into your own hands-” Ross’s attention flickered over Tony’s shoulder to the empty whiskey cabinet. “And you’re not only endangering yourself. You’re endangering the lives of civilians, of fellow enforcers, of United States soldiers. I won’t stand for that.”

Ross’s hand came down on Tony’s shoulder. He didn’t jump. He knew better than to give a reaction, even if he could feel his heart in his throat, growing larger.

“Keep yourself useful, Stark,” Ross whispered, “or you can find yourself on the other side very quickly. Your choice.”

Of course, choices were so rarely as simple as they sounded. Choices were so rarely choices, even to someone like Tony.

Perhaps especially to someone like Tony.

[toloveawarlord]

At Your Service (Ch. 1)

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

My first Ikevamp post! This isn’t even one of the 13 ocs that I talked about before. She’s completely new but is anyone really surprised?

Tagging @plumpblueberry for supporting Ophelia and all her future fun times with the vampires.

This entire series is going to come with a big NSFW warning!

Warnings: Smut toward the end! (It’s Arthot, what else did you expect?)

The door closed firmly in her face by the butler had just barely missed her nose. One minute, maybe not even that long. She had been turned away before getting more than a few sentences out. The master of the house refused to see her, instead sending his attendant to kick her out. Ophelia blinked, hand lingering on the doorknob to the main entrance. Leaving without even being heard left her wounded.

Her qualifications were most impressive. It should have given her the edge, despite the ad specifying a male for the position. All attempts to find a new job had come to a screeching halt. Her previous employer having blacklisted her for wishing to leave him. If she could get someone to listen to her side and give her a solid chance…

“Well, hello there, little bird,” A voice called out to her, approaching from the main gate. The moon illuminated his silhouette in silver light. He strode up to her, seemingly going to walk straight into her.

Ophelia hit the wooden door with her back, golden eyes gazing up at the sparkling blue eyes curiously inspecting her features with a wicked grin. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a switch flickered with danger, yet she could not bring herself to move her legs. The girl completely enthralled in him.

Arthur peered down at her, thoughtfully wondering how long she could last before bolting for the front gate. “You smell utterly delicious, dear maid,” he continued, sliding a gloved finger up her throat to lift her chin higher. “Hair pinned perfectly away, exposing your lovely neck.”

His manner of speaking threw her off guard.

“Are you going to be our new little toy?”

Ophelia found herself gaining back control of her senses at his question. Dejection pouring over her like a cold bucket of water. “No, Monsieur. It seems I am ill qualified to work here. The Master of the house would not even speak directly to me.” If she’d met him, shown him what her capabilities were, then he would have most certainly changed his mind.

“How unfortunate,” He mused, finger still stroking her neck affectionately. Her blood calling to him, though he’d already fed earlier in the evening. Arthur held her captive with his inquisitive gaze, a thrilling idea coming to his lips. “How would you fancy working for me? I would gladly take a personal little maid like yourself. I vow to take very good care of you.”

His offer took a moment to sink in. “Are you making fun of me?” She couldn’t fathom him being the master of the house, so would it be in his realm of power to give her a position like that? Could this man be so cruel as to tug at her soul with those words only to tear it away from her?

Arthur twisted a curl of her black hair between his index finger and thumb, bringing the lock up to his lips to kiss it. “Oh, not at all. It is the sincerest of offers to you, miss maid.” The amount of fun he could have with this one washed him in anxious anticipation. She must say yes. The craving in her golden irises was utterly delectable.

The girl clasped both her hands around his, the lock falling from his grasp. “Yes, please, allow me to take the position. I will do anything that asked of me.”

His lips quirked upward. “That’s what I like to hear.” Carefully lifting her trembling hands up, he brushed a kiss across her knuckles. It would be such a shame not to get a taste of her after how desperately she had been silently begging for it. Her repertoire must have included being a service maid. The clear longing for someone to serve etched deep within her being.

The interior of the mansion nearly took her breath away. Immaculately clean and polished to the brim. Ophelia kept pace just behind him, slightly to the right. “May I ask you a question?” She pipped up, inspecting the grandeur around her.

“Whatever is on your mind, little maid.” Arthur took a key from his breast pocket to unlock his quarters.

Ophelia stood in the open doorway, quizzically inspecting the room that he’d entered. A large enough room that cleaning it would take a least a day from top to bottom. An agenda forming in her head of what she could do to spruce up the space. “What would you like me to call you?” Calling him a general title didn’t feel right to her.

Master and maid was an intimate relationship.

“Ah yes, Arthur is perfectly acceptable,” he answered, taking her hand to lead her in so the door could be firmly shut. It would be quite disappointing if anyone where to interrupt his fun. “And your name?” While nicknames could prove to be effective in earning her loyalty, slipping in her real name at precise moments would be useful.

“Ophelia, Maître Arthur.” The girl gave a slight curtsey yet never broke eye contact.

The sound of her calling him master brought him intense joy. How easily it had fallen from her lips, no hesitation in admitting that she was submitting herself to him. His tongue trailed over his fangs, the thirst for her growing exponentially stronger.

“A fetching name for a lovely bird.” Arthur restrained his intent to devour her for the moment. Playing with his meal made it all the more appetizing. Gesturing a hand out to the stack of papers and books strewn across the room, he gave her the first task. “I’ll be working at my desk, but you can start by replacing these books on the shelf and steadying these papers, yes?”

Her expression lit up with anticipation, eager to start before he’d barely finished speaking. “Of course! I won’t disturb you.” Waiting patiently for him to settle at the large desk, the girl set to work. The books were categorized by author making it a simple job to replace them to their proper spot upon the shelf.

The stacks of papers had drawn her attention. Some crumpled up in the floor, having not quite made it to the trashcan. Ophelia couldn’t stop herself from scanning the top page of the largest stack. Scanning the words hastily written across with elegant script, the name scribbled across the very bottom caught her attention. “Curious,” she muttered.

The name read as Arthur Conan Doyle. A famous novelist from Britain if her memory served her. He’d gained quite the ground in literature, especially the mystery ones with that strange Holmes detective. She’d mused the question before realizing, “Are you a fan of the novelist?”

These were hand written, so could it be that he could be trying to immolate the writer?

“Something to that effect,” Arthur answered, hunched over at the desk. How did she know that? A question that he would pursue at another time. Pushing up his glasses with his index finger, watchful blue eyes were trained on her. He couldn’t break the news in this moment. He couldn’t judge how she would react, and that would put a damper on his plans should she want to leave.

Ophelia had become transfixed on the work in her hands, carefully reading over each word and engrossing herself in the story. Her honest expressions drew him in, the last of Arthur’s self-control fizzling out. Something so delicious innocently awaiting to be caught.

Snatching the paper from her, Arthur reveled in her surprised reaction. “I’m terribly thirsty,” he admitted, hands on her waist to guide her up against the dresser nearest them. With her back to him, the mirror atop would give her a full view of what was to come.

Her stillness with bated breaths only pushed her further into his grasp.

Arthur dipped his head down, tracing his tongue over her exposed neck. He had waited long enough to get a taste. Their eyes met, equally mirroring anticipation for his next move. The girl had yet to pull away, either out of obedience or curiosity.

A soft gasp fell from her lips as his fangs sank down into her tender skin. Her hands gripped the edge of the dresser, steadying her swaying body. Ophelia watched through half lidded eyes. The pain dull, replaced by a warm euphoria spreading over.

With one arm securely around her waist, Arthur licked the blood off the bite marks. “Even sweeter than I imagined.” Worth waiting for after all.

Ophelia blinked slowly, eyes hazed over with a fog of pleasure. Her mind unable to wrap around what had happened to her. In an awkward turn, she twisted in his arms, hands wrapped in the lapels of his jacket. The words couldn’t form in her mouth. Questions stacked upon questions. Instead of any of those, she whispered a plea so soft that Arthur barely heard her. “Do that again.”

The heat that had overtaken her began to fade, and she craved to have it back.

“Again? Needy little bird, aren’t we?” Despite his words, Arthur would gladly take another sip from her. Emotions can fuel the taste of human blood to be sweet or bitter, and the more she wanted it, the sweeter her taste would become.

Her strength waning, she leaned her forehead against his chest. “It’s all very unclear,” she muttered, dazed from the event to the point of nothing making any sense to her. Still, gathering her desire as best she could, Ophelia found a coherent sentence. “If you wish me to be your maid, then proper training is required.” The words hardly felt like her own, coming from a part of her that she was unfamiliar with.

How could he argue? A willing participant handing over their entire being. The temptation too much for him to resist. And how he would enjoy bringing her to the edge of oblivion over and over again. Her days at the mansion would be indefinite.

Easily lifting her to sit atop the dresser, Arthur stripped off his gloves. “A pleaser, I see.”

“Isn’t that my main purpose? Serving a master with delight?”

Lightly chuckling, the novelist didn’t have a counter argument. He pushed her torso back against the mirror, pulling her hips forward to the edge of the dresser. A human so eager to have him play with her. The strange turn of events bringing the vampire the excitement he had been missing. “I suppose.”

A shiver tingled up her body at his touch.

“But in this household, you’ll serve with your entire being.”

Golden eyes locked onto the demanding blue ones, seeking absolute attention.

“Mind.” He lifted her leg to place a delicate kiss on her knee.

“Soul.” Trailing his free hand up her thigh, her skirt crinkled up around her waist, baring her skin.

Arthur traced his fingertips over her warm skin, enjoying the show of the girl unraveling before him. Her palms flat on the dresser, submission to his whims written across her. No attempts to stop the actions. His little bird openly accepting his touch without any hints of fear.

“And especially…body.” Feather light traces of his fingertips across her thigh slid up to the band of her panties. He hooked his index finger under the band, snapping it against her skin, causing her to jump in surprise. “You’ll come to see that we require special services that you aren’t familiar with. But, don’t fret, little one, I’ll patiently and thoroughly teach you each and every detail that you need to know. Until you’re only reacting on pure instinct.”

Ophelia’s breath caught in her throat as Arthur peppered kisses against her inner thigh. Fangs scraping lightly on the skin but not piercing. “Yes.”

“Stay still,” Arthur ordered, spiraling into his own state of bliss. He couldn’t fathom how the girl had been turned away. It would be messy if their secret were to be revealed but with the right amount of attention and training, she could be incredibly useful.

His fangs sank down into the sensitive skin. Blue eyes flickered up to observe her melt into the abyss of sheer pleasure. Her hips wiggled, aching for more.

Ophelia knew what role maid’s played with men like him. They were all the same. Nothing mattered in their world, consequences did not exist. Whether married or single, their wealth placed them above all others. Maids were made to be played with when the whim arose.

Many times, it came with pain and misery, but the girl sought a place to belong.

She craved the attention that serving a household could give her.

Arthur could have drunk every last drop of her, and he believed she might have let him. But where was the fun in that? Gently pushing her knees apart as far as they could go, he placed sloppy kisses up to her clothed core. “Are you still with me, little maid?”

His question returned with a whimper of desperation.

Ophelia could not process any thoughts. Her consciousness under a deep fog of desire, like having a drug coursing through her.

Lapping his tongue over her clit, he chuckled at her impatient whine. Arthur could have held her there for hours, playing with her until she was a quivering mess. “We’ve got plenty of time for that,” He muttered to himself, hooking his index fingers under the band of her panties.

Without any instructions, her hips lifted high enough to allow him to slide them off and toss them somewhere haphazardly behind them.

Arthur stroked three fingers down her slick folds testing her wetness before dipping them into her core. The girl rocked her hips forward searching for more stimulation. “Hold your skirt up. It’s blocking my lovely view.”

Shaky hands crumpled the material within her fists, pulling it up to expose all of her lower body.

“That’s a good girl,” He said, tongue tracing over his lips. Her promise to do anything at all echoed in his mind, feeding so many delicious ideas. Arthur used his free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, the strands that had slipped out of her clip.

Her cheeks were flushed with crimson red, mouth slightly parted, begging for his lips to touch hers. Golden eyes casting needy desire from under her fluttering lashes.

Arthur leaned forward, close enough to feel her breaths on his lips. “Sing for me, little bird,” he whispered, swiping his thumb across her sensitive clit, bringing a jolt up her body. "Work for it. Make yourself cum on my fingers," he said, curling his fingers within her core with each slow menstruation. Ophelia rocked her hips forward, losing all control of her existence outside of this moment. The dresser creaked under her, matching in time with her gaspy breaths. The closer she came to her release, the sloppier her movements became. "Please-" Her first coherent word since he'd drawn her into a state of need for pleasure. It fell from her lips softly, pleading for his assistance. No matter how much she tried, nothing was enough. "Sing for me, Ophelia," Arthur demanded, picking up the slack in movements by pumping his fingers quickly and rubbing her clit hard with his other hand. Hearing her name for the first time in tandem with his loving voice sent her spiraling. Moans spilled from her mouth, legs trembling as her orgasm overtook her. "Maître Arthur-" over and over she breathlessly muttered his name like a prayer. Arthur chuckled, soaking up the satisfied expression on her features. "I'm going to have so much fun with you." A wicked smirk grew on his lips as she tugged his hand up to her mouth. Ophelia slid her tongue over his wet fingers, tasting her own juices. Her warm mouth sucking tenderly on his digits, eyes focused up on him. She slid her tongue over her lips, swiping the last bit of sweetness into her mouth. "What else can I do for you, Maître Arthur?" "I've got some ideas, little maid." Arthur could keep her all to himself after the night he had planned for her. Although, it would be most entertaining to watch her succumb to the others. A thought for another time. For tonight, he had her entirely to himself.

Another Oc in the books! Next will be Ophelia facing the real master of the house [Insert smirk emoji here]