#glas H

[transvisions]

MAN. I need u otp promt generator from 2013…

[wally-b-feed]

Anthony Fineran (B 1981), Skirt GLA Nina H, 2023

[grugruel]

Save a Horse

Pairings: cowboy!bucky x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: Its girls night out, but when you see a handsome cowboy, you have no other option than to take him for a ride.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: fluff, Pet names (girl, ma'am, doll, sugar (once), darling), slight praise, body worship, cowgirl, pinv sex, southern Bucky, cockwarming, creampie, sundress kink.

AN: I lied, I was so excited to write cowboy!bucky so I posted it first.

The sounds of heels hitting pavement surrounded me as I held the door to the bar open, letting my girls pass me. We were out for our typical ladies night.

We sound like a gaggle of hens as we enter, giggling and gossiping as were already a bit drunk from dinner. The sound of music and crowded voices fill the gloomy, yet cozy lit bar.

Our group steps up to the counter, placing our orders when one of the girls nudges me, 'Honey, be descreet ok? That stud over there.' She says quietly, nodding her head to the right of us, 'Hes totally checking you out.'

I furrow my brows, doubting her words and all girls turn their heads at the same time, checking out this supposed stud.

And boy, was she right.

Sat by his lonesome, brooding and hunched over his drink, his gaze was observing me from under his hat. When he notices us all staring he chuckles and smirks, nodding to the empty seat next to him. The girls whisper to me in various terms of encouragement and surprise like 'Holy shit!' And 'Go get him, girl.'

I shake my head and laugh, mouthing "Later" to him. 'Lets just get a table.' I tell the girls with a bright smile.

The night goes on, but unable to keep my eyes to myself. They drift toward the handsome cowboy by the bar and more often than not, I find him already looking.

'Girl, if you dont want him, we'll take him.' They say, all agreeing with the statement.

I look at them with round eyes 'Oh my god, fine.' I snicker.

'Hurry!' They shout as I stand up.

'Im going, im going!' I assure them, and make my way to the bar. I look behind me, to find the girls giving me thumbs up and waving their hands in shooing motions.

I hear a low whistle coming from the pool table nearby, and turn to see a man looking at me up and down. Staring at my bare legs and slightly seathrough dress, it was the middle of summer after all.

I wink at him in good spirits as I turn back and saunter toward the bar, sidling up to the handsome cowboy. He observes his whiskey glas and says 'I was startin' to think you'd never come.' A charming smile on his lips.

I sat down, 'You doubtin' your abilities?'

He shook his head and met my eyes, 'No, ma'am. I just dont like being presumtious.'

'Confident, not boastful. I like that.' I told him truthfully.

'I was hopin' so.' He said, that charming smile making its way back to his lips, 'You seem to be a popular girl.' Eyeing the man who whistled at you.

I wave the bartender down, 'That bother you?' I ask, and give the bartender my order.

The cowboys eyes drift over my body, admiring what he sees. Nothing the way my leg is poking out of the slit in my sundress. 'No ma'am.' He jerks his head, then says under his breath, 'I can see why.' And smiles to himself.

'What was that?' I asked, the sound of a crowded bar dulling my hearing.

He points at the bartender, 'Told him to put it on my tab.' He lazily excuses. The bartenders nods hesitantly, looking at me for confirmation.

I hummed in agreeing, a smile tugging on my lips, 'I can pay for myself y'know.'

'I never doubted.' He said with a genuine smile, 'Please, let me be a gentleman miss.'

I put my hads up, 'Well, alright.'

He tipped his hat to me in gratitude. I observed his features as he did the same, 'You never told me your name.' I tilted my head to the side, looking deeply into his eyes as if I could tell the name from the hue of blue alone.

'My real names James, but they call me Buck out here.' a gleam of mischief appearing in his eyes. Making me eager to know why, I already had a few guesses. 'And yours, miss. . .?'

I shook my head, looking at him through my lashes in challenge 'Now, that. . . You'll have to earn.'

He nodded and pursed his lips, my answer seemed to humour him, 'Thats a challenge im willin' to accept.' He told me.

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, sipping our drinks. The tension hung in the air around us, and so did the origin of his name, acuriosity eventually got the better of me.

'So, why do they call you Buck anyway. If I may ask that is.'

He laid one arm on the bar, holding his glass and leaning against it for support 'You may guess, I'll tell you if its right. Scouts honor..' He answered, his voice cheeky.

I rolled my eyes, but a smile threatened my lips, 'S'pouse thats fair.' I studied him, his clothes were well worn, nicely fitted but roughed up and dirty. 'Farmer maybe-' I began and he was about to cut in, to answer for me, but I stopped him, 'Hold on, thats not my final guess.'

I reached for his hands, opening them to look at their state. Big and calloused, 'Hard worker, it seems. Your hands are at the very least.' I pointed out and met his eyes, looking at him through my lashes.

'Thats a promise darlin'.' He said earnestly, but with a hint mischief in his tone. And supposedly nothing ulterior behind his words. I took his chin between my fingers, moving his head so I could get a good look at his face. A few scrapes, same with his hat.

'Can I look at your hat?' I asked, and he obliged, taking it off of him.

He leaned forward, his eyes ruefull 'You can try it on if you want.' He said in a low voice, ment for my ears only.

'Is that right?' I teased, pleased expression on on face.

'I think it'd suit you.' He told me, shrugging.

'Could you roll your sleeves up for me?' I asked him, ignoring the latter. Nothing ulteiror behind my words either, supposedly.

But man, as he rolled them up and I saw those strong veiny arms? Something definitley set aflame inside me. But I also noticed a big bruise under his forearm, leading up to his elbow, as if he'd fallen on it.

'It wouldnt be my first time wearin' a cowboys hat, boy. Not my first rodeo either.' I said. A smile spreading across his face as he nodded, approvingly. 'Speaking of, you do rodeo dont you?'

'Yes, ma'am.' He said, impressed by my deduction.

'You strong in the saddle, that why they call you Buck?'

'I stay on, most of the time.' He admitted.

I hummed, 'Theres something more to it though, isnt there?' I asked, and he nodded. 'You got a reputiation for bucking cowgirls out of the saddle?' I joked.

He laughs, but doesnt deny it.

The bartender cuts in, 'Indeed, he does.' And winks at me, I return a flattered smile. He leans toward me, resning his forearms on the counter 'Next drink 's on the house, little lady.' He whispered, a flirtatious smile on his lips.

'Why, thank you.' I said politley, ignoring the bad flirting.

The cowboy looked between the two of you, chuckled, then settled his gaze on the bartender.

'Careful there Chief, I already had my eyes on this one.' He said and nodded his head in my direction.

The bartender, whos aparent name is Chief, smiled at Buck, 'Yeah well, you cant have em' all.' Chief said in a gruff voice and gave me a quick look, smiling confidently. When he looked back, the cowboy had raised his eyebrows in question, wordlessly comunicating something along the lines of "You sure you wanna do this?"

The bartender licked his lips, thoughts of regret circling his head.

'Boys, boys. . .' I tried, a bad attempt at calming them.

The bartender closed the distance between him and Buck in long pompous strides, leaning over the bar slowly, settled his head next to him in a calm and collected motion, then kept his voice low but hasty 'C'mon Buck, you can get any girl you want. Let me have this one, please.' He begged, his voice betraying him as its high-pitched nature shone through.

His bad attempt at a whisper made me giggle, and earned me a smirk from Buck.

'I believe that fine lady over there can hear just fine, bud.' He whispered back, making the bartender look at me in horror. Quickly rebuilding the facade of confidence over his face and the flirtatious smile to go with it. However, nervousity was making it crack. 'Besides.' Buck continued, 'Nothing says she'll chose either of us.'

I looked between the men, it was an obvious choice. 'Reputation or not, I'll accept that challenge.'

He met my eyes with a grin, grabbing the top of his hat and placed it on my head. He pulled my hair back from my face and laid it behind my shoulder so he could see my face better. I could hear chearing from our left, we both looked and saw the girls whooping and clapping.

The bartender backed off in defeat, but a smile clad his face.

'So you were a scout?' I teased, a humored expression on my face.

'Yes, ma'am.' He nodded, forgetting he didnt have his hat to tip. So I did it for him.

I laid my hand on the nape of his neck, burrying my hand in his hair, 'So, how about it cowboy. Wanna take me for a ride?'

He smiled and bit his lip, 'I thought you'd never ask.'

He took my hand and led me to his car in a hurry, we ran through the dim, rainy night and next thing I know im sitting on top of him in the backseat of his truck.

I kiss him fiercly, eager to taste him. Hes trying to slow me down, but im aching for more him. 'Girl.' He says, trying to grab my attention as I kiss his jaw. And when I dont stop, he cups my face and pushes me backward so that he can get a look at me, 'Slow down.' He whispers, stroking a strand of hair behind my ear as he studies my face. 'Theres no hurry. I want all of ya', not a second.' He says and smiles.

I wasnt used to this, I had one-night stands before for sure. But they we're always in a hurry, using me for my body and nothing else. Bucks comment made me blush, suddenly shy. I had to turn my face the other way as I realised that he was actually paying attention to me, and not just chasing his own pleasures. 'Sorry.' I said under my breath.

'No need to apologize girl.' He assured, hand reaching for my chin. Gently taking it between his fingers and turning my head to face him.

'Youre a real gentleman, arent you?' My smile was faint, as I thought about previous encounters. Memories making me appreciate his soft touch.

'I try.' He grins, not in an egotistical way, but rather proudly. 'Thats how I was raised.' He nodded, stroking a line over my lips with his thumb, 'Just, beautiful. . .' He mumbles, as his eyes follow his thumb, observing the movement of my lips.

'They did one hell of a job.' I say, kissing his cheek.

'They'd appreciate that, I was one hell of a gangster growing up.' He chuckled as his hands fell to my shoulders, and continued sliding down my arms, taking both straps of my dress with him.

'A gangster with manners, who treat women right.' I pointed out, a sigh leaving me as his touch aling with the cool air prickled my skin.

'Well.' He paused, his eyes flickering over my exposed skin as he squeezed his way down my arm in massaging motions. 'I would be nothing without the women in my life.' He says, kissing my shoulder 'Men would be nothing without women, to put it simply.'

His words caused me to bite my lip, a pulse settling deep in my uterus. I lean into him, unbuttoning his shirt and slide my hands underneath. Feeling his warm skin and strong muscles under my fingertips. His shirt catches on my wrists and I slide it off of his shoulders, then drape my arms around him and nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. 'Just when I thought you couldnt turn me on more.' I whisper and kiss him gently.

He grunts appreciatively, 'Oh how you'll take those words back when youre screamin' my name sugar.' He says and kisses his way along my neck. Stirring the butterflies in my stumache.

I kiss along his jaw as his lips reach my cheekbone and eventually we meet lip to lip, ghosting eachother as he leans his forehead against mine. 'You're perfect doll.' He says under his breath, his air alone tasting divine. I blush and close the final distance between us, kissing his lips.

Heat builds within us as our movements grow hungry. His hands roam my body, rubbing my thighs and grabbing my waist. 'Can I look at ya'?' He asks, desperation in his voice. Whimpering almost, but not quite.

'Mhmm.' I hum, and slide the straps down my arms. The dress falls down my torso and bunches at my hips. A sharp intake of breath comes from him as his eyes study me, the curve of my breasts, waist, and everything else. This time, however, I dont turn shy. Because I know that there is nothing but admiration behind his gaze, his eyes basically turning heart-shaped.

'May I?' He looks at me, pleading, begging.

'Yes, please.' I Whimper.

And in the flash of a second, hes on me. Hunching down to take my breasts into his mouth, hungerly sucking. I moan, my breaths heavy as the smacking and slurping sound of his mouth on my flesh symphonises. The windows begin fogging up, clouding the view of the parking lot, hiding our identities but showing our intentions.

His hands slide over my thighs and under my dress, toying with the hem of my panties. Pulling on them and then letting go, making them snap back and sting my skin. I yelp from the sudden sensation, he let's out a muffled laugh against my skin. I bite my lip and burry my hands in his hair to gently pull at my pleasure.

His hands move under my panties, holding my hips in place. I grind down on his lap and immidietly, my core touches his erection. We both freeze, he let's go of my breasts and pull back to look at me. Our eyes meet, gazes flickering between eachothers eyes in silent communication. Eventually, we both agree.

Under the sound of rain hitting the truck, we clash together in a feverish kiss as I unbuckle his belt and zipp down his jeans, he rips my panties apart and pulls his member out. Our movements are hasty and filled with want, needing the other so incredibly bad. I sit up as Buck lines himself up with my entrance, we lock eyes and I slide down onto him, his size filling me perfectly.

We gasp in unisome as the sensation sinks in, smiles chasing our lips.

I start moving and he grips my hips to help my movements. Soon, we have set a needy rhythm, both chasing our highs. He leans back to take in the sight, my breasts bouncing along with the rest of my body. I move my hands to take his hat off, but he shakes his head. 'That hat shows your mine, girl.' He says between the smacking of our skin, luring a smile onto my lips, 'And Id like to keep it that way.' Panting, a grin spreading over his face.

My knees grow weak as pressure builds within me and my movements grow irregular, a whimper manifesting in my throat. Buck circles his arms around me, pulling me close to him and suspends me above his lap as he begins thrusting into me roughly. 'I got ya', such a good girl.' He whispers, doing the all the work for me.

My stumache flitters from his words, 'Fuck.' I moan, 'Just like that, Buck.' My breathing becomes ragged as his strong arms hold me.

I rest my head on his shoulder, his thrusts rocking my body entire body. My gaze drifts to the condensation on the windows, observing how the water droplets bunch and grow bigger as they slide down the glas. My vision blurring, 'Im close, Buck.' I whisper, 'Fuck me.'

He lets out a breathy chuckle, 'Thats what I've been doin'.' I adjust my hips, so that I can grind my clit against his abdomen. I shut my eyes hard as I'm tipping over the edge.

'Let me hear you doll.' He moans.

I moan a string of curses, screaming his name as I topple over the edge. He's thrusts falter and he grunts as his own orgasm arrives right after mine. He comes deep inside of me and let's up on his hold around me. He moves his hand to my back, gently massaging circles while the other stokes hair from my sweaty forhead. I slide down onto his lap, member still inside me as we exchange exhausted breaths.

Suddnely-

A knock sounds on one of the windows, startling me terribly. I yelp, 'Holy shit!' pushing myself closer to Bucks chest in an attempt to cover some of my naked body.

'Sorry!' The man said, 'Didnt mean to scare ya' lady.' hastily turning his face away, profile cloudy through the window. He cleared his throat and continued, 'It's getting rowdy in there Buck, I could really use some backup.' His voice reminding me of the bartender.

'Fuck. . .' Buck sighs, 'I'll be right there chief.' And the bartender leaves. Hastily, but not rushing, he helps me dress, pulling up my dress straps and reaching into the passenger seat for his worker-jacket to wrap around my shoulders.

I smile, 'Thank you.' And pull my arms through the sleeves, 'You really don't have though.'

His eyebrows furrow, 'Of course I do.' He says matter of factly, sounding very confused.

'But you'll need your jacket.' I protest.

He grins, 'So? You'll be returnin' it tomorrow.' He grabs my waist and lifts me off of him, the sound of his member sliding out of me making a sick suctioning sound and he tucks himself away.

I tilt my head in question, my turn to be confused. 'Tomorrow?' I ask, as he opens the truck door and steps out, holding his hand out for me to take and looking at me expectantly. I give him a slanted smile, his kindness making me feel undeserving, I forget his earlier statement. I slide my hand into his and shake my head, almost in disbelief. 'You're too kind.'

'I'm not, and you'll learn that you're worth it.' He says, meeting my eyes and shutting the door behind me. I blush, and look away. But he grabs my face and turns me to face him, he smiles and strokes my cheek with his thumb. 'I was hoping you'd stay over, I'll take my jacket tomorrow when it's warmer.'

Warmth spreads inside me, partly because of Bucks seed still in me. I clamp my walls shut to avoid it leaking out while I'm standing. 'I'd love to cowboy, but I gotta tell my friends, and use the bathroom. . .'

He raises an eyebrow in confusion, then it hits him, 'Oh right.' He chuckles, grabbig his hat to ruffle my hair with it. 'Yes ma'am, of course.' He says and kisses my temple, then laces his fingers together with mine and lead me back towards the bar.

'Hey.' He says, stopping in his tracks 'Have I earned your name yet?' He gently yanks me back, snaking his arms around me.

'I'd say so.' I chuckle, standing on my tiptoes and leaning closer, whispering my name into his ear. Then stand back.

Buck grins, 'Just as beautiful as the rest of ya' he says, and pulls me into a kiss.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 128 }

sparkle.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ my feelings for you sparkle in my thoughts | i can't be honest with myself yet | even though i have realized the truth | my body is throbbing with the words i can't get out... }

jinwoo sung has always been in love with you-

and he's come to realize that as being a fact that would never change.

you may not know it, but he fell for you during a time where he first decided to become a hunter, being labeled as the weakest in the entire world and you had healed him from a grave wound with your immense healing power.

jinwoo recalls that moment as if it had happened yesterday... where he had first started out as a hunter, becoming so gravely injured that not even joohee could heal him, forcing the young woman to call for help. it was just so painful, losing so much blood while laying on the cold, stone floor of the dungeon.

his life was felt slipping away from him, and all jinwoo could feel was an immense regret at leaving his loved ones behind.

mom, sis... i'm so sorry, but i can't...

as he was close to losing all hope, he felt a warm embrace encircling him. his gasps for air were all that echoed throughout the dungeon, and that was the moment his silvery eyes met with your tranquil expression.

blood was felt bubbling in his throat, but the moment your hand touched at his chest, he felt all of his pain disappear. bathed in a gentle, golden glow, jinwoo suddenly felt the blood receding back into him along with the dissipating pain. your features were twisted in a look of concentration, never removing your hand from his chest until all of his wounds disappeared.

the newbie hunter could feel a blush dye his cheeks red, suddenly feeling alive once more when he sits back up. he looks at his hands, and touches at his chest, no longer feeling pain nor tasting the coppery bitterness of his blood within his mouth.

"h-how did you... that was..."

but all you did was give him a gentle smile before placing a finger upon your lips. "sssh, it's a secret."

he hears joohee's panicked voice, which was what prompted you to stand before disappearing from the dungeon. his throat felt dry, unable to answer joohee and the backup she had called, because all he could think about was you.

jinwoo wouldn't get to see you again until much later... after he became a bit stronger thanks to the system.

his thoughts were consumed with meeting you again; with becoming stronger for your sake as he hoped to protect you in return for you saving his life. he grew stronger, and more confident as he lost the prior meekness he once had when he first started out as a hunter.

so when he saw you again, entering a cafe while ordering your favorite drink, he knew he had to take this chance.

without even thinking about it, he pays for your coffee and pastries, quite literally forcing himself into your plans while hiding his anxiety behind a confident smile. you end up smiling at him, thanking him for paying while allowing him to join you. it was during your first conversation together that he learned of your work as an a-rank healer, where you were often called as backup if many dire injuries had occurred.

( jinwoo had to fight back the urge to ask if you remembered him. )

and after that first meeting and interaction... like a butterfly effect, it all just seemed to... fall perfectly in place.

jinwoo made sure to be a constant presence in your life. often going out with you on your days off ( with him making an effort not to explore the dungeons by himself during those times ). it was truly like all those romance movies and novels have said-

"when you fall in love, all you want to do is surround yourself with them."

because that was what jinwoo was doing at this very minute.

with you feeling lazy, you invited jinwoo over to hang out with you. you were currently settled on the couch, flipping through the pages of your novel with him sitting on the armchair settled across from you. as he was pretending to read, he kept sneaking glances at you.

his heart softens upon admiring you, seeing the sunlight shining through your hair, further accentuating your soft beauty. jinwoo could feel his heart beating rapidly from within his chest, and each time he opened his mouth to try and say something, no words would come out.

mentally berating himself, jinwoo lets out a sigh, unable to take this... distance between you and him any longer. even if he was unable to say anything, maybe he could do something to act on these festering emotions that was felt brewing within his heart.

settling off his own book to the side, jinwoo stands from his seat, purposely towering over you, casting shadows over you. you see him in your periphery and smile, "hey jinwoo-"

you gasp suddenly, watching as he flops down on the couch, resting his head against your lap. he listens to you, paying close attention to the way your sweet voice calls out his name with a bit of a tremor.

"sorry... just... give me this moment to relax with you." it was a struggle for jinwoo to try and keep his voice even, practically relishing within your warmth while breathing in the faint scent of your perfume and shampoo.

he doesn't dare open his eyes, for fear of blushing immensely once he sees you peering down at him. there was a silence permeating at the air when jinwoo feels you shifting in your seat. listening as your voice begins to hum, he shivers upon feeling your hands delve into his hair.

the hunter swore he could feel a purr vibrating with his throat, basking in the way your fingertips massaged at his scalp. he felt so relaxed... so calm and peaceful while laying beneath you-

yet all feelings of tranquility was lost the moment he feels your soft lips touching with his. within mere milliseconds, his eyes were open wide, only to see how your eyes were closed as you kissed him deeply. letting out a moan of your name, jinwoo happily accepts your kiss, pulling you toward him when he wraps an arm around your neck, bringing you oh so closer to him.

your lips continue to perfectly slot against his, making the shadow monarch shiver in response. pleasure was felt coursing through him, and he found himself thinking that if he died right now-

then he'd die happy.

you end up pulling away from jinwoo first, embarrassment painting your pretty features when you slowly admit to him.

"jin, i lo-"

but he interrupts your confession with a growl, meeting your lips once more in a hungry kiss.

jinwoo would be damned if you were the one to confess to him, so he supposes that he just needs to keep kissing you to help you forget-

so that he can tell you first.

{ maybe i was nonchalant, but you’re the only one my eyes were chasing | when i think about it, i might have already fallen for you | how far away did i hide my true self the day i decided to meet you? | when i think how much being hated scared me, i was in love }

a.n. - in celebration of my new URL change !! help, i have joined the jinwoo harem, that man has a chokehold on me bc wow... aleks le is perfect as jinwoo 😭🙏🏻

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[deutsche-bahn]

Bin vor kurzem in eine Gartenparty voller WDR-Journalisten gestolpert. Ich stach mit Wacken-Tshirt und viel zu großer Haremhose irgendwie aus der Masse der Blusenträger heraus. Ich würd's noch nicht mal als underdressed bezeichnen, ich bewegte mich nur auf einem ganz anderen Spektrum der Alltagskleidung.

Ich bekam einen Aperol in die Hand gedrückt und wurde neben eine Redaktionsassistentin gesetzt, die allem Anschein nach versuchte ihren Mangel an Eiern mit dem größten, klobigsten Paar Perlenohrringe zu kompensieren das ich je gesehen habe. Ich habe Musketenkugeln mit weniger Durchmesser gesehen, ernsthaft.

Aus dem Gespräch zwischen ihr und ihren Kolleginnen wurde mir schnell klar dass es sich um die Sorte Publikum handelte die die Shopping-Szene aus Pretty Woman für die Höhe der Gesellschaftskritik hielten. Unverschämt, wie man in Boutiquen manchmal behandelt werde, wenn die Verkäufer einen in die falsche Gehaltsklasse einordnen! Und was ein schöner Triumph wenn sie merken, dass man ja doch Geld hat, trotz Oberteil von H&M! Ich nicke verständnisvoll. Passiert mir auch andauernd, ja.

Meiner Sitznachbarin wird es jetzt zum Glück auch zu gehobene-mittelschichtig. Sie lugt zwischen ihren Perlohrringen hindurch und merkt an, dass es ja auch nicht schlimm sei wenn man tatsächlich nicht so viel verdient. Ich möchte hier kurz betonen dass das ein echtes Gespräch war, was ich wirklich, wirklich so mitbekommen habe. Nein, sagt sie. Sie hätte ja auch Freunde, die nicht so viel Geld hätten. Aber das wäre ja auch nicht schlimm, da könnte sie sich genauso mit treffen! Und dann würden sie sogar Bier aus Flaschen trinken. Ich zerbeiße fast mein Glas vor gesprächlicher Überforderung. Wild, Bier aus Flaschen.

Würde man dieser Frau einen echten, leibhaftigen Bürgergeldempfänger vorsetzen würde sie wahrscheinlich anfangen, langsamer und deutlicher zu reden. Ich verschlucke einen der Eiswürfel in meinem Aperol und ersticke augenblicklich.

[sgiandubh]

Pants on fire

Y'all pretty much stopped -actively- following Sarah H, right?

Well, let's see what she did post last Monday:

For our distinguished Spanish Mafia representatives, here is the gist of it:

During an anonymous Q&A session on Insta, she was asked if she would allow the person she currently dates meet her son. Question was formulated as a possibility only, by the way.

Her answer was crystal clear, despite her terrible, terrible English grammar, and I am going to translate it in Spanish, for once:

'Gracias. Hace 5 años, me separé del padre de K y nunca le he presentado a Kayson a nadie con quien haya salido en estos últimos 5 años. Solo lo haría si estuviera segura de que estaré con este hombre para siempre. No estoy de acuerdo con personas entrando y saliendo de su vida, esto no es justo. Enrollarse resulta más difícil, ya que K está conmigo la mayor parte del tiempo, pero está bien.'

This goes to show two important, yet predictable things:

a) the Traditional Troll lied through her teeth. She always does. People never learn, just because obsession blurs all the damn lines between what is reasonable speculation and what is dingbat lying.

b) the other Sad Mythomaniac insinuating she spoke to Steve the Climber, who allegedly confirmed S was spotted in that GLA park with K was well... just a sad (and desperate) mythomaniac:

I am sorry, pumpkins. Park Anon was correct. I did not invent it, no matter how hard you'd pretend. You should also know by now I never send Anons. I also happen to think both of these cheap pretexts spoil the fandom experience entirely, something I have no wish to do. For me or anyone else - and yes, that includes Mordor, too. When I say something, I sign and own it loud and clear. And I take no prisoners.

Thank you for the tip - you know who you are and you always, always deliver 😘💖.

I am back, biatches 🤣🤣🤣.

[Later edit]: updated for exact reference of Sad Mythomaniac (not the only one). And pumpkin, don't fret: I am Romanian. Also, what about Frosty the Snowman @ Cawdermill and those sets of two different handprints, huh? #Hogmanay

[jazeswhbvault]

I actually love both of them but honestly as kinda semi dubious Glas’s H-scene was, it was actually better than Foras’ by a long shot and I’ve had it down bad for Foras since he was revealed. I’m pretty disappointed. They did play into his philia but it was was just 90% putting up with mc dialogue which I’ve noticed the majority aren’t a fan of them since day 1 and I’m really not either

idk im me i would drag myself out of bed or use the phone satan is to get someone i dont care. Blow up the messages see who runs in first. I didnt need the whole touching oneself part smh. Maybe im too basic bitch lol. I mean Im definitely jealous because I could fall asleep to foras voice alone, but maybe that’ll make the hades boys look this way

Also though if you did message foras and his phone did went off while he was in the room with you that’r be a hilarious jumpscre

I REALLY want to stress anon, that Foras really should have gone first.

Because ONE why have Glas state that he wanted to be picked next after Levi and Foras but we're seeing his H-scene first??? That threw me off.

And second....yeah most of that was just MC self-pleasing themselves and honestly I would have been fine with that if we were reading from Foras' point of view. In fact maybe one time they SHOULD do that. It works with him being invisible and that he likes watching.

And third.....where the hell is MC's phone? lmao

I swore Satan gave them a phone. The chats indicate they should have a phone and yet...this entire time they ain't got it and it would have solved a lot of their problems. But also like??? callin' up Foras to come bang them and it rings somewhere in the room would of had me on the floor because he'd be so focused on watching MC he forgot to put his phone on silent.

Also like....I kept trying to visualize what MC looks like with just Foras ghost-fucking them and it makes me laugh. I'd probably request to wear a blind fold or something so I don't have to see how ridiculous I look. It's already canon Levi spies on MC using Foras so who's to say that he wasn't doing that again? Lol

[sweeter-than-teafood]

Shit, I was gonna send spoilers for the Glas H-Scene after I had food, but I had the biggest food sleep of all time, after committing hella gluttony.

If anyone is up for it, I could screen record the H-Scene and try to send it via DM, but it may be half a day later (Work and stuff)

I have failed the Glas-gang 😭

[chaoticfuryfest]

Hallo liebe Leute,

da der Sommer nicht so richtig in die Gänge kommt, hatte ich viel Zeit, um an der Stalker FF zu schreiben. (Bin fast fertig!) In einer Version hatte ich als Epilog H&Ms Kennenlerngeschichte verarbeitet, habe diese Idee allerdings aus diversen Gründen wieder verworfen und den Epilog gestrichen. Ich möchte Euch die kleine Story aber nicht vorenthalten, daher werde ich sie hier posten. Bin gespannt, ob ihr sie als plausibel erachtet...🤔

Wie alles begann....

Malediven, 2014

Hanna winkte dem Shuttleboot hinterher und seufzte. Sie hatte sich gerade schweren Herzens von ihrem Freund Achim verabschiedet. Seit einem halben Jahr waren sie ein Paar, allerdings lebte und arbeitete sie auf den Malediven und er in Deutschland. Er hatte in dem Hotel, welches sie leitete, Urlaub gemacht und sie hatten sich Hals über Kopf ineinander verliebt. Seitdem versuchten sie, eine Beziehung auf Distanz zu führen. Achim war sehr engagiert und in den sechs Monaten schon das dritte Mal auf den Malediven gewesen. Jetzt stand ihnen eine längere Durststrecke bevor, denn Hanna konnte erst in vier Monaten Urlaub nehmen und würde dann nach Deutschland fliegen.

Hanna versuchte die Gedanken an Achim abzuschütteln und stürzte sich in die Arbeit. Sie ging an die Rezeption zurück und sah die kommenden Reservierungen durch. Zwei Paare, die zum Flittern herkamen und zwei Crewmitglieder des Kreuzfahrtschiffs MS Amera. Kapitän Schuster kam regelmäßig, den anderen Namen kannte sie nicht. Schien ein neuer Kollege zu sein. Die Zimmer waren soweit hergerichtet, sie sah auf die Uhr. Jeden Moment müsste der Shuttle eintreffen. Kaum hatte sie den Gedanken zu Ende geführt, öffnete sich die Tür und die neuen Gäste betraten das Hotel.

"Herzlich Willkommen auf den Malediven Kapitän Schuster! Auch mal wieder im Lande?”, begrüßte Hanna den Kapitän der MS Amera freundlich. Ich sehe, Sie haben einen neuen Kollegen dabei?” 

Sie musterte neugierig Schusters Begleiter. Er hatte braune Augen, die sie freundlich und interessiert anschauten, grau-braun-melierte Haare und einen ebenso farbigen Bart. War er ein Offizier oder auch ein Kapitän? Sie kannte sich mit den Rängen in der Seefahrt nicht aus, er hatte jedenfalls dreieinhalb Streifen auf seinen Epauletten. 

“Darf ich bekannt machen? Das ist mein neuer Staff-Kapitän Martin Grimm”, stellte Kapitän Schuster seinen Kollegen vor. “Herr Grimm, das ist Hanna Liebhold, sie leitet das Hotel hier. Immer wenn wir auf den Malediven halt machen, steigen wir hier ab. Die Betreuung ist exzellent und äußerst charmant”, sagte Schuster mit einem Augenzwinkern.

Hanna errötete kurz. “Danke für das Kompliment und herzlich Willkommen, Herr Grimm”. Sie lächelte Martin an und gab ihm die Hand. 

“Vielen Dank, Frau Liebhold”, antwortete Martin freundlich, “es freut mich, Sie kennenzulernen.” Er ergriff Ihre Hand und erwiderte den Händedruck. 

“Waren Sie schon einmal auf den Malediven?”, erkundigte sich Hanna.

“Nein, das ist mein erstes Mal, ich freue mich schon darauf, die Gegend zu erkunden, auch wenn wir nur einen Tag bleiben”, antwortete Martin gut gelaunt. "Können Sie mir später sagen, wo ich ein Segelboot mieten kann?” 

“Natürlich, kommen Sie einfach gleich nochmal zu mir. Ich wünsche Ihnen einen schönen Aufenthalt." Sie übergab Martin und Kapitän Schuster lächelnd die Zimmerkarten.

“Zimmer 301 und 305, dritter Stock. Herr Schuster, Sie kennen sich ja aus und können Herrn Grimm den Weg zeigen.”

Die beiden Männer bedankten sich, nahmen ihre Taschen und gingen zum Aufzug. Hanna sah ihnen noch nach. Ein netter Mann, dieser Martin Grimm, befand sie und begrüßte die nächsten Hotelgäste.

Am späten Abend beschloss Hanna, sich noch ein Glas Wein an der Hotelbar zu gönnen. Sie hatte gerade noch mit Achim telefoniert, danach war ihre Sehnsucht immer besonders stark und ihre Laune entsprechend im Keller. Sie traf auf Kapitän Schuster und Martin, die die letzten beiden Gäste an der Bar waren. “Guten Abend, die Herren”, begrüßte sie die beiden mit einem aufgesetzten Lächeln. “Ich hoffe, Sie hatten einen angenehmen Tag!” 

“Guten Abend Frau Liebhold!”, erwiderte der Kapitän den Gruß. “Ich war gerade dabei, mich von Herrn Grimm zu verabschieden, ich gehe jetzt nämlich ins Bett. Ich wünsche eine gute Nacht!” Schuster zog sich zurück.

"Vielleicht mögen Sie mit mir noch etwas trinken?”, fragte Martin. “Ich bin noch nicht müde und ohne Ihnen zu Nahe treten zu wollen, Sie sehen so aus, als könnten Sie noch etwas Gesellschaft vertragen.”

Hanna schmunzelte. Der Seemann hatte ihre Gefühlslage genau erfasst. “Gerne”, antwortete sie. 

“John, Sie können Feierabend machen, ich erledige das hier schon”, sagte sie zum Barkeeper und nickte ihm freundlich zu. “Was darf ich Ihnen denn anbieten, Herr Grimm. Ein Bier?”  “Nein danke, lieber einen Orangensaft.”

Hanna wunderte sich über die außergewöhnliche Getränkewahl, goss aber kommentarlos ein Glas ein und stellte es vor Martin auf den Tresen.

“Ich habe das Bedürfnis nach etwas stärkerem. Ich hoffe es ist OK für Sie, wenn ich ein Glas Wein trinke.”

“Aber natürlich.”

Hanna servierte sich selbst ein Glas Rotwein und nahm neben Martin Platz. “Zum Wohl”, sagte sie und stieß mit Martin an. “Schlechten Tag gehabt?”, erkundigte sich Martin vorsichtig.

Hanna betrachtete Martins Gesicht. Sie konnte nicht sagen warum, aber sie hatte sofort Vertrauen zu diesem Mann gefasst.

“Ich musste heute meinen Freund, der in Deutschland lebt, verabschieden. Er war kurz zu Besuch und jetzt sehen wir uns eine ganze Zeit lang nicht”, sprudelte es aus Hanna heraus.

Martin nickte verständnisvoll. “Das Dilemma, wenn man in der Reisebranche tätig ist. Auf Kreuzfahrtschiffen haben wir das gleiche Problem. Heute hier, morgen dort und monatelang auf See unterwegs. Das macht es schwierig, Beziehungen zu führen. Wer möchte schon ein halbes Jahr zu Hause auf seinen Partner warten?”

“Ja, es ist nicht leicht. Dafür hat man aber einen tollen Job”, sagte Hanna. “Haben Sie denn jemanden, der auf Sie wartet?”

Martin zögerte mit der Antwort. Er kannte sie schließlich selbst nicht genau. Sophia auf den Bahamas war zwar irgendwie seine Freundin, aber letztendlich war es viel zu unverbindlich und er konnte sich nicht vorstellen, wegen ihr seine Karriere aufzugeben. So plätscherte ihre sogenannte Beziehung vor sich hin und würde vermutlich bald im Sande verlaufen.

“Entschuldigung, ich wollte nicht neugierig sein”, beeilte sich Hanna zu sagen. “Das geht mich schließlich auch nichts an.”

“Nein, schon in Ordnung”, antwortete Martin. Er hatte das Gefühl, mit ihr über alles reden zu können, obwohl er sie erst seit ein paar Stunden kannte.

“Ja, es gibt jemanden, aber ob sie ewig auf mich wartet, kann ich mir nicht vorstellen. Es ist einfach nicht ernst genug zwischen uns”, ließ er Hanna an seinen Gedanken teilhaben. Außerdem bin ich zu sehr mit dem Meer verheiratet, das hat wohl seinen Preis.” 

Hanna nippte an ihrem Wein. “Das hört sich ja schrecklich deprimierend an. Vielleicht ist sie einfach nicht die Richtige? Ich wette, Sie finden eines Tages jemanden, der Ihnen die Welt bedeutet.” Sie lachte. “Entschuldigen Sie, aber ich bin eine hoffnungslose Romantikerin.”

Martin musste schmunzeln. “Darauf würde ich nicht wetten, aber ich trinke trotzdem gerne auf die Romantik und auf die Welt mit Ihnen.” Er hob sein Glas. “Prost!” 

Sie stießen lachend an. 

“Wollen wir nicht “du” sagen?”, fragte Hanna. “Ich hab das Gefühl, als würden wir uns schon ewig kennen.” 

“Das geht mir genauso”, antwortete Martin. “Verrückt, oder? Ich heiße Martin.”

“Hanna.”

Sie lächelten sich an und prosteten sich erneut zu.

“OK Martin, dann erkläre mir doch bitte mal den Unterschied zwischen Kapitän und Staff-Kapitän. Da kenne ich mich überhaupt nicht aus.”

Martin erklärte ihr die unterschiedlichen Ränge und seine Aufgaben. Sie kamen von einen Thema zum anderen und unterhielten sich lange Zeit angeregt. Martin schaute irgendwann auf die Uhr und erschrak. Zwei Uhr morgens!

“Hanna, es tut mir leid, aber ich muss jetzt ins Bett, ich brauche dringend noch etwas Schlaf. Morgen reisen wir ja schon wieder ab!” 

“Oh ja, ich habe gar nicht bemerkt, wie die Zeit verflogen ist. Es war ein schöner Abend!” Hanna lächelte ihn an.

Martin erwiderte das Lächeln. “Ja, das war es.” 

In den folgenden Jahren hielten Hanna und Martin Kontakt. Sie telefonierten gelegentlich und immer wenn Martin auf den Malediven war, stieg er in ihrem Hotel ab. Das abendliche Getränk an der Bar war zu einer Art Ritual geworden. Dort erzählten sie sich alles, was sie bewegte. Hanna erfuhr von Martins Alkoholproblem. Sie schüttete ihm ihr Herz aus, wenn sie mal wieder vor Liebeskummer verging und verkündete ihm dort schließlich freudestrahlend ihre Verlobung mit Achim. Eine innige Freundschaft war zwischen ihnen entstanden.

2018

Martin war seit langem mal wieder auf den Malediven und auf dem Weg zum Hotel. Er freute sich darauf, Hanna wiederzusehen. Sie hatten schon länger nicht mehr miteinander gesprochen.

Er betrat das Hotel und traf allerdings nicht Hanna an der Rezeption an, sondern ihre Kollegin Mary.

“Hallo Herr Grimm, herzlich willkommen!”, wurde er freundlich begrüßt. 

"Hallo Mary”, erwiderte Martin den Gruß. “Ist Hanna nicht da?”

Mary schaute ihn betreten an. “Haben Sie es nicht gehört?” Martin guckte verständnislos. "Was gehört?”

“Na das mit dem Unfall!”

“Was für ein Unfall? Ist Hanna etwas zugestoßen?", fragte Martin besorgt

“Ihr nicht, aber Achim, ihrem Verlobten. Er ist mit dem Flugzeug abgestürzt und gestorben. Hanna hat daraufhin einen Nervenzusammenbruch erlitten und ist seitdem in einer Klinik. 

“Oh mein Gott, das ist ja schrecklich!”, entfuhr es Martin. "Deshalb habe ich wohl so lange nichts mehr von ihr gehört. Sie ist in letzter Zeit nie ans Telefon gegangen, wenn ich sie angerufen habe. Haben Sie Kontakt zu ihr?”, fragte er Mary.

“Selten. Das letzte was ich weiß ist, dass sie bald aus der Klinik entlassen wird.”

“Falls Sie mit ihr sprechen, richten Sie ihr bitte Grüße von mir aus. Sie soll mich anrufen, wenn ihr danach ist.”

Martin ging schockiert auf sein Zimmer. Was für eine Katastrophe! Hanna tat ihm furchtbar leid, er wusste, wie sehr sie Achim geliebt hatte. Er konnte sich gar nicht vorstellen wie schrecklich sich ein derartiger Verlust anfühlen musste. Er hoffte, dass sie bald miteinander sprechen würden.

Ein paar Wochen später klingelte sein Telefon. Ohne auf das Display zu schauen meldete er sich: 

Grimm!

Hallo Martin, hier ist Hanna.

Hanna! Endlich höre ich was von dir. Ich habe gehört, was passiert ist, ich kann dir gar nicht sagen, wie leid es mir tut. Wie es dir geht, brauche ich wohl nicht zu fragen, hm? 

Hannas Stimme zitterte. Nicht gut, aber besser. Ich war eine Zeit lang in einer Klinik, das hat mir auf jeden Fall geholfen. Wie geht es dir?

Alles wie gewohnt, danke. Heute hier, morgen dort, du weißt ja…

Ich habe Neuigkeiten. Ich werde die Malediven verlassen. Alles erinnert mich an Achim, das ertrage ich einfach nicht. Ich brauche eine neue Herausforderung.

Das kann ich verstehen. Weißt du schon, was du machen wirst?

Ja, stell’ dir vor, ich heuere auf einem Kreuzfahrtschiff an! 

Nicht dein Ernst!

Doch! In zwei Monaten werde ich die neue Hoteldirektorin auf der MS Amadea. Kennst du das Schiff? 

Martin fing an zu lachen. Das ist unser Schwesterschiff, dann sind wir ja bald Kollegen! 

Hanna stimmte in das Lachen ein. Zum ersten Mal seit vielen Wochen war sie dazu wieder in der Lage. 

Ich bin jetzt für vier Wochen in Hamburg bei der Reederei und bekomme eine Einführung in die Welt der Seefahrt. Dann kehre ich auf die Malediven zurück, um alles mit meiner Nachfolge zu regeln. Von dort startet dann mein Abenteuer.

Ich bin nächste Woche auch für ein paar Tage in Hamburg, lass uns treffen, Frau Kollegin! Ich bin mir sicher, dass dir das Leben auf dem Schiff gefallen wird. Gut, dass du wieder nach vorne schaust.

Danke Martin. Melde dich, wenn du hier bist. Ich freue mich, dich dann zu sehen!

Ich mich auch. Mach's gut Hanna, wir sehen uns! 

2019

Sambia war das neue Ziel der MS Amadea. Kapitän Burger hatte den Dienst quittiert und von seinem unbekannten Nachfolger gab es bisher keine Spur. Hanna, Doc Sander und Kreuzfahrtdirektor Oskar Schifferle standen nervös auf der Brücke.

Hanna sah auf die Uhr. “In dreißig Minuten müssen wir uns fertig machen zum Ablegen."

“Sonst kostet uns jede Minute ein kleines Vermögen!”, fiel Schifferle panisch ein. 

“Wie soll das gehen ohne Kapitän?”, fragte Sander aufgeregt. 

In der Aufregung hatten sie nicht bemerkt, dass jemand hinter ihnen die Brücke betreten hatte.

“Als Staff-Kapitän bin ich dafür qualifiziert, das Schiff zu übernehmen," ertönte eine dunkle Stimme.

Die Crew-Mitglieder drehten sich um. Hannas Gesicht erstrahlte, als sie den ihr bekannten Mann erblickte.

“Martin! Dich schickt der Himmel!”

[wonbokkies]

☆ my muse.

pairing. artist hwang hyunjin x gn reader.

genre. non-idol au, established relationship, fluff fluff fluffy.

word count. 814.

synopsis. you look through hyunjin's sketchbooks as he paints, sweetness ensues.

★ chus note. one four three i love hwang hyunjin ꒰✿ˊᗜˋ ꒱ ‹3

how could someone look so pretty sitting in the midst of painting?

there he was, the hwang hyunjin sitting in front of his canvas. the way his half tied up blonde hair frames his face so perfectly, his facial structure seemingly more defined under the dimmer light of the room, his full lips forming into a concentrated pout. god, the way he held a palette in one hand and his paintbrush in another.

you could only dreamily sigh, laying on hyunjin’s mattress while you watch as the blonde man moves his paintbrush along the blank canvas. eyes locked on his graceful strokes, following the stripe of colour appearing and bleeding onto the empty slate of a canvas. 

a song that you couldn’t quite place a finger on the title was quietly playing in the background and you hummed along, filling the comfortable silence between you and him.

glancing around hyunjin’s scattered but somehow organized room, walls covered with various posters of either his favourite musical artists or artworks he’s made in the past. you roll onto your stomach, propping your elbow upon his pillow and getting a better look of him.

“hyunjin-ah.” your voice was barely over a whisper, floating through the air and mixing in with the music.

he doesn’t turn away from his canvas, only speaking in that fond tone you hold dear. “yes, my flower?” 

“could i look through your artworks?”

hyunjin hummed, turning his head away from his artwork to properly look at you with a smile on his lips. “of course.” he takes a moment to point at the storage cubes beside him, “right over here, love.”

hopping off his mattress in delight and walking over to his side, getting a quick peek at his canvas. you were able to make out the various splashes of colour and your expression turns into awe, the talent his man has always brings you into a state of fascination, you adored everything he does. 

bending down beside hyunjin, extending your arms and taking a few of his sketchbooks into your arms. you wander back to his bed before taking the time to admire him once more. you could only wonder how you were able to catch someone like him.

hyunjin takes occasional glances towards your direction with adorning eyes, watching while your own sparkle as you looked through his drawings. his smile subconsciously widening the longer he stares.. until a familiar cover caught his eye, starting to panic internally.

“h.. hold��� hold on! dont look through that one!” hyunjin squeaks out, but daring not to force it out of your hands.

you turn to hyunjin, curious in his sudden change of mood. “..ah?”

“my love..” a faint shade of pink was now apparent on hyunjins cheeks in embarrassment as he could only bashfully look away.

“oh..” you pause, fingers already looking at the sketchbook and recognizing a face that was appearing frequently while you flip through the pages. “hyune, is this.. me?” 

“well yes, you’re.. my muse.” he sheepishly rubs the nape of his neck with his free hand, looking awfully shy and quietly sighing. “as cheesy as it sounds, you’re just so perfect to draw.. the sweetest face i’ve ever seen.” hyunjin turns back to look at you, the prettiest smile gracing his features. “you’re like a red rose, my pretty.”

now, it was your turn for your cheeks to flush, shyly covering the lower half of your reddening face. you found him absolutely adorable, so charming.. endearing. how could he say these things and expect you not to swoon? 

tranquility soon falls between you and him again, not wanting to disturb him as hyunjin keeps painting. his song playlist continues to play along in the background and you don’t know how much time has passed before he beckons you over.

“my love, please come here.” hyunjin fully turning his body to properly glance at you, signaling he’s finished with his painting.

walking over to his side and you could only gape when seeing his newest artwork leaning closer to get a better look, realizing something. “is this us?”

hyunjin chuckles, it makes your heart skip a beat. “it’s based off us.”

you slowly nod your head, staring at the painted canvas then back at him, breaking into a smile and placing your hand onto his shoulder. “well, let me just..”

before the blonde man could say anything, you’ve already pulled him into a sweet kiss you could feel him suck in a breath against your mouth. his plump, pillowy lips perfectly mold with yours, as if two puzzle pieces connecting together.

his hand reaches up and his fingers curl around the nape of your neck, wanting to keep you close, needing you closer. wanting to keep his lips pressed against yours, relishing in the feeling as he releases a contented sigh.

he is your artist and you are his muse.

© wonbokkies on tumblr. please do not copy, repost, or plagiarize any of our works.

[skyetenshi]

Ich glaub, das hier ist Teil 7, der längste, der noch nicht mal vollständig ist? Lets go?

Oh und... 👉Teil 6

15:17 Uhr, Großraumbüro, Polizeirevier, Rocky Beach

Gerade dachte Smyth mal die Ruhe genießen zu können, während man Shaw mit anderen Aufgaben betraut hatte, da kam jemand Bekanntes zur Tür des Reviers rein: Skinner „Skinny“ Norris.

Er sah absolut unpassend in dieser Umgebung aus – zumindest ohne Handschellen und Polizeibegleitung. Ihm war das wohl auch bewusst, und er streckte trotzig das Kinn vor, während er betont lässig am Empfang lehnte. Die leise Frage der Kollegin konnte Smyth nicht hören, wohl aber die Antwort: „Ich will zum Supercop Shaw.“

Smyth, bereits dabei näher zu treten, hörte die Kollegin fragen: „Wie ist Ihr Name?“. Skinny zögerte merklich, schien dann aber zu denken, dass ihn schon genügend Polizisten kannten und das auch keinen Unterschied mehr machte: „Skinner Norris. Ist Shaw nicht da?“

„Worum geht es denn?“, fragte die Polizistin unbeirrbar.

„I c h m ö c h t e g e r n e m i t P e t e r S h a w s p r e c h e n.“, sagte Skinny langsam und deutlich, als hätte er es mit einem besonders begriffsstutzigen Kind zu tun. Smyth entschied sich dafür, sich selbst zu opfern: „Guten Tag, Mr Norris. Ich bin Officer Smyth. Viellicht erinnern Sie sich, dass ich dabei war als Officer Shaw Sie befragt hat.“

„Ja, ich weiß.“, sagte Skinny halbwegs höflich und scheinbar froh, dass jemand verstanden hatte, worum es ihm ging.

„Der Kollege Shaw hat gerade noch zu tun. Wenn Sie möchten können Sie gerne warten, oder ich kann Ihnen vielleicht helfen.“ Smyth ließ den abschätzenden Blick über sich ergehen. Schließlich seufzte Skinny: „Ich würde gerne warten.“

„Kommen Sie mit. Mr Norris.“, sagte Smyth. „Möchten Sie etwas trinken? Kaffee, Wasser?“

„Whisky habt ihr wohl nicht, was?“, fragte der junge Mann flappsig. Als aber keine Reaktion kam, sagte er: „Wasser bitte.“ Smyth lächelte leicht. So großmäulig er sich gab, so schnell verlor er den Wind aus den Segeln. Kaum hatte er das Glas Wasser und saß vor Shaws Schreibtisch erklang das ungleichmäßige Klicken, seiner Metallringe und schwarz lackierten Fingernägel gegen das Glas, als er nervös damit herum spielte.

„Wenn es etwas Dringendes ist, könnten Sie mich schon ins Bild setzten.“, bot Smyth an, hinterm eigenen Schreibtisch sitzend.

„Ich bin mir nicht sicher, ob das was für die Polizei ist.“, gestand Skinny.

„Warum sind Sie dann hier?“, fragte Smyth direkt.

„Sie wissen doch wie Peter ist.“, sagte Skinny Augen rollend. „Kein Rätsel kann er ignorieren, keine Damsel in Distress, die er nicht retten will.“ Smyth war etwas überrascht von dieser Einschätzung. Vor allem weil Skinny Shaw sonst so kritisch gegenüberstand. Das mit den Rästeln war auch neu, nicht aber der offensichtliche Heldenkomplex, den hatte Smyth bereits oft genug in Aktion gesehen.

„Wer muss denn gerettet werden?“, fragte Smyth. Skinny verzog das Gesicht. „Ich weiß nicht mal, ob es so ist. Ich hab nur ein mieses Gefühl. Da ist dieses Mädel, sie ist 14 und eine Ausreißerin, wenn sich denn ihre Eltern scheren würden, wo sie ist.“

„Und was ist mit ihr?“, fragte Smyth.

„Verschwunden is sie.“, sagte Skinner. „Sonst ist sie immer zu uns gekommen, wenn was war. Anfang der Woche war sie mal wieder da. Stress mit den Alten dachte ich erst. Bis sie dann angefangen hat zu heulen und mir erzählt hat, dass sie schwanger is.“

„Von dir?“, fragte Smyth ernst nach.

„Sach mal hackts bei Ihnen? Ich hab doch schon gesagt, dass sie 14 ist.“, echauffierte sich Skinner. Fair enough, dachte sich Smyth. Aber Nachfragen musste trotzdem sein.

„Ziemlich jung für eine Schwangerschaft.“, meinte Smyth.

„Soll aber vorkommen.“, sagte Skinny düster. „Ihre Eltern könne sie das nicht sagen, die würden sie steinigen. Gläubige Menschen scheinbar. Oder einfach nur Arschlöcher...“

„Skinny, was machst du denn hier?", fragte Shaw plötzlich von der Seite. Smyth bemerkte, dass Skinny ordentlich zusammen gezuckt war, sich aber schnell wieder im Griff hatte. Er lümmelte in dem Stuhl und sah Shaw schief und trotzig an: „Hast doch gesagt, ich soll mich an dich wenden, wenn was ist.“

Shaw lächelte zustimmend und nickte: „Natürlich. Was ist los?“

Skinny seufzte und sagte dann schnell: „Hier die Kurzfassung: 14-jähriges Mädchen verschwunden, schwanger und ihre Eltern werden sich nicht darum scheren, wo sie ist. Nein, ich weiß nicht wer ihr Macker ist oder wie weit sie ist. Alle bekannten Freunde habe ich schon gefragt. Keine Spur. Nur ein ganz mieses Gefühl.“

Shaw setzte sich nachdenklich vor Skinny auf die Tischkante: „Warum hast du mich nicht angerufen, sondern bist direkt hier her gekommen?“

Skinny verzog das Gesicht: „Warum ist das wichtig? Mein Schrottteil von Handy ist mal wieder kaputt.“

Shaw lehnte sich vor und zog mit zwei Fingern den Kragen von Skinnys Lederjacke auf: „Und hat dein kaputtes Handy irgendwas mit dem Hämatom hier zu tun?" Smyth konnte überrascht einen Blick auf einen fast schwarzen Fleck auf Skinners Brust werden. Wie hatte Shaw das so schnell gesehen?

Skinny schlug Shaws Hand zur Seite: „Nein, das war mein Privatvergnügen.“

„Skinny.“, sagte Peter vorwurfsvoll. „Das sieht mir so aus, als hätte man dein Schlüsselbein angeknackst. Und das zu einer Zeit, in der du ratlos genug bist dich an mich zu wenden? Komm schon, Skinny, das kannst du doch besser.“ Shaw schien tatsächlich den richtigen Ton mit Skinner zu treffen, denn er knirschte mit den Zähnen: „Das Mädchen war bei uns in der Bauwagenkolonie. Eines Abends fangen die Hunde an zu kläffen und bevor wir wissen, was los ist, zerren irgendwelche dunklen Gestalten Nelly aus dem Bauwagen. Ich bin hinterher und habt mir eine gefangen.“

Peter nickte verstehend: „Hast du schon eine Ahnung, wer das war?"

„Ne, aber es war kein Teenie wie Nelly.", sagte Skinny düster. Auch Shaws Miene verdunkelte sich gleich: „Hat Nelly gesagt, dass etwa gegen ihren Willen geschah?“

„Nicht direkt. Sie wurde wohl gedrängt aber nicht gezwungen. Nicht dass das einen wirklichen Unterschied machen würde. Aber jetzt mit dem Baby, muss der baldige Vater wohl etwas unternehmen.“

„Glauben Sie, man wird ihr was an tun?“, fragte nun Smyth.

„Wer weiß. Wenn Nelly tot wär, kann man sie keine Aussage mehr machen, wobei dann wahrscheinlich immer noch DNA Spuren zu finden wären – solange es eine Leiche gibt. Wenn man sie hingegen dazu bringt das Kind zu verlieren und sie so sehr einschüchtert, dass sie nie wieder was sagt, wäre es für alle Beteiligten von Vorteil.“

„Außer für Nelly.“, merkte Shaw trocken an.

Skinny verzog unwillig den Mund: „Kannst du mir helfen?“

Shaw seufzte: „Ich schätze mal, du kommst zu mir, weil es keinen offiziellen Anlass gibt das Mädchen zu suchen.“

„Niemand außer mir und den Kids vermisst sie. Ihre Eltern wissen wahrscheinlich noch nicht mal, dass etwas passiert ist. Mir egal, ob du daraus eine offizielle Suche nach Nelly machen willst, oder deine beiden Schatten anrufst und ihr auf eigene Faust los zieht.“ Shaw nickte nachdenklich.

„Mir ist egal wer etwas unternimmt, ich weiß nur, dass Nellys Chancen um ein vielfaches besser stehen, je mehr Leute nach ihr suchen.“ Skinner hatte die Sache sich bereits gut überlegt. Und scheinbar gab es zwei Personen, die er zu Shaws engen Bekanntenkreis zählte und vielleicht auch helfen konnten.

„Da hast du recht.“, stimmte Peter zu. „Kennst du Nellys Nachnamen? Wenn nämlich nicht und du nur gesehen hast, wie ein Unbekannter ein junges Mädchen mit Gewalt entführt hat, dann ist das durchaus ein Grund Ermittlungen zu beginnen. Wir können ja ohne den Namen nicht einfach bei den Eltern nachfragen.“

Skinny zog die Augenbrauen hoch: „Ihr echter Name muss mir entfallen sein. Überhaupt nannte jeder sie nur bei ihrem Spitznamen Nelly.“

„Ich spreche mit Cotta.“, sagte Shaw. „Können Sie bitte die Aussage ins Protokoll aufnehmen?!“

„Ja klar.“, sagte Smyth bereitwillig. In diesem Fall hatte das entführte Mädchen eindeutig Vorrang. Und vielleicht verriet Skinner noch etwas mehr über die gemeinsame Vergangenheit.

„Alles noch mal von vorne erzählen?“, fragte Skinny ernüchtert nach.

„Jep.“, sagte Smyth. „Doch ein Kaffee?“

„Bitte.“, sagte Skinny.

„Möchten Sie auch eine Anzeige wegen dem Angriff stellen?“, fragte Smyth.

„Bringt ja nichts.“, murmelte Skinny.

Smyth rollte mit den Augen: „Wenn wir denjenigen finden, aber Nelly nicht aussagebereit ist, könnte es nützlich werden.“

„Fick mein Leben.“, murmelte Skinny besonders leise. „Ja gut ich möchte eine Anzeige aufgeben. Gegen unbekannt.“

Als Shaw wieder zu Ihnen stieß und erzählte, dass er bei Inspektor Cotta erreicht hatte eine umfassende Ermittlung zu beginnen, schien es für Smyth fast so, als wäre Skinny überrascht wie sehr man sich für Nelly ins Zeug legte. Oder das Shaw ihm tatsächlich half.

„Hallo Skinny.“, sagte Cotta, als er ebenfalls zu ihnen trat. Sogar der Inspektor schien Skinny von Früher zu kennen. Vermutlich aber nicht als Hilfesuchenden.

„Hallo, Inspector Cotta.“, sagte Skinny neutral.

„Wir müssen möglichst alle Kontakte von dem Mädchen haben.“, erklärte der Inspektor.

Skinny nickte und kramte in seiner Lederjacke. Er zog ein kleines Smartphone in einer golden glitzernden Hülle hervor. „Das ist im Bauwagen liegen geblieben. Ich kann es nicht entsperren, aber zu wem auch immer sie Kontakt hatte, sollte darin zu finden sein.“

„Das ist super.“, sagte Shaw. „Da haben wir eine gute Chance, Beweise zu finden.“

Skinny lächelte halbherzig: „Aber leider wird es uns nicht verraten wo sie ist.“

„Wir werden Sie finden.“, sagte Shaw aufmunternd und ganz und gar nicht dem folgend, was man in der Ausbildung lernte. Leere Versprechen zu machen konnte nämlich auch nach hinten losgehen. Skinny nickte verbissen.

Nachdem sie alles zu der Anzeige aufgenommen hatten und eine Durchsuchung der Daten auf dem Telefon angeordnet wurde, hatte sich Skinny verabschiedet in dem Versprechen Kontakte zu befragen, die für die Polizei zu lichtscheu waren. Shaw begleitete ihn noch zur Tür und kaum dass Skinny weg war tippte er eine Nachricht auf seinem Handy.

Smyth runzelte die Stirn. Einen Informanten vielleicht?

19:32 Uhr, vor dem Polizeirevier, Rocky Beach.

Bis zum Feierabend, dachte Smyth nicht mehr an all die ungeklärten Fragen um Shaw. Er machte seine Arbeit gewissenhaft und schnell wie immer und machte sich dann wie üblich Feierabend. Das einzige, das Smyth auffiel war, dass er vor dem Revier von Skinny erwartet wurde. Aber sie blieben nicht lange allein, denn ein weiterer junger Mann gestellte sich zu ihnen, der junge Mann von Schrottplatz. Just. Neffe von Titus Jonas.

Smyth hätte weitergehen sollen, nach Hause, ein Fertiggericht in die Mikrowelle schieben, einen alten Film streamen und gut wärs gewesen. Aber da stand das Rätsel in Form von einem Kollegen mit seinem mysteriösen Jugendfeind und einer weiteren Person, die Smyth soweit noch nicht einschätze konnte.

„Gibt es schon etwas Neues?“, fragte Smyth sich mental in den Arsch beißend.

Skinny rümpfte die Nase: „Nee. Nur ein Haufen Leute, die schwören, dass sie nichts wissen.“

„Wir sollten uns den Tatort ansehen.“, fragte der junge Mann namens Just.

„Da waren Kollegen schon“, sagte Shaw. „Aber wir können bestimmt einen zweiten Blick riskieren.“ Das sahen die Vorschriften bestimmt anders, andererseits war der Tatort, das Freeman-Gelände fast so etwas wie öffentlicher Raum.

„Wenn jemand noch eine Spur findet, dann die Superspürnasen:“, sagte Skinny ironisch. „Wo ist eigentlich mein alter Kumpel Stan Silver?“

„Arbeiten.“, sagte Just sehr kurz angebunden. „Aber er weiß auch Bescheid und hält die Augen auf.“ Smyth runzelte die Stirn. Wer zu Hölle war Stan Silver? Der Name war bisher noch nie vorgekommen im Zusammenhang mit Shaw. Vielleicht bestand der Zusammenhang auch nur zwischen Just und Skinny. Schwer zu sagen.

„Dann machen wir uns mal auf den Weg.“, sagte Shaw. Smyth fand sich selbst sagen: „Melden Sie sich, wenn sie was herausfinden:“ So viel zum wohl verdienten, ungestörten Feierband. Aber natürlich gingen verschwundene Kinder vor.

Smyth hörte am Abend aber nichts mehr von Shaw. Stunde um Stunde verstrichen, aber niemand meldete sich.

7:28 Uhr, Polizeipräsidium, Rocky Beach

Als Smyth am nächsten Tag zur Arbeit erschien, saß Shaw bereits über eine Akte gebeugt an seinem Platz. Seine Kaffeetasse war bereits wieder leer. Er war wohl schon länger hier. Frühaufsteher waren Smyth schon immer suspekt gewesen.

„Guten Morgen.“, sagte Smyth und warf einen Blick auf die Akte.

„Morgen.“, sagte Shaw kurzangebunden.

„Ist die Forensik schon fertig mit dem Handy?“, fragte Smyth überrascht.

„Nein. Ich habe einen Externen damit betraut, das Handy zu analysieren. Er ist wesentlich schneller. Mehrere Chats mit Schulfreunden und Internetbekanntschaften.“, erklärte Shaw.

„Keine Spur?“, hinterfragte Smyth. Shaw brummte: „Einer ist unter >Love< eingespeichert. Und die Chats lesen sich... naja sagen wir mal so etwas habe ich nicht mit 14 geschrieben, geschweige denn geschickt bekommen.“

Smyth hing die Uniformjacke über den Bürostuhl: „Was haben Sie dann mit 14 gemacht?“

„Hauptsächlich um mein Leben rennen und um Waffen kämpfen.“, sagte Shaw nebenbei in der Akte blätternd.

„Soll das eine Hunger-Games-Referenz sein?“

Shaw sah fragend auf: „Nein, wieso?“

„Äh schon gut.“ Smyth deutete auf die Akte. „Unanständige Texte?“

Shaw verzog das Gesicht: „Oh ja. Der Verfasser wollte Nelly immer wieder dazu drängen, sich heimlich mit ihm zu treffen. Keiner sollte davon wissen. Sie würden es nicht verstehen und nicht sehen wie reif Nelly doch schon ist. Alles Textbuch getreues Grooming. Liebesbekundungen und Geheimhaltungsschwüre. Nelly war aber nicht so auf den Kopf gefallen. Sie traf ihn nie allein, sondern hat sich nur an öffentlichen Orten mit ihm getroffen und klar gemacht, dass sie die Gespräche schätzt aber noch nicht bereit für Sex ist.“

„Das scheint sich ja geändert zu haben.“, bemerkte Smyth.

„Besser wäre es.“, sagte Shaw düster. „Wenn nicht... Die letzten Nachrichten lesen sich wie ein Thriller. Wo bist du? Warum meldest du dich nicht? Du bist nicht zu unserem Treffen erschienen. Betrügst du mich? Du warst nicht in der Schule, ich habe auf dich gewartet. Dann hat Nelly ihm geschrieben, dass sie schwanger ist und ab da wird es richtig krank. Lauter Anschuldigungen, dass sie nicht richtig verhütet hat. Und dann das Drängen zu einer Abtreibung.“

Smyth schluckte eine Welle von Übelkeit hinunter: „Wow, ich glaube, ich brauche keinen Kaffee mehr.“ Wenn Smyth das genauer betrachtete wirkte Shaw tatsächlich auch etwas blass: „Seien Sie froh nur die Zusammenfassung von mir bekommen zu haben. Es geht aber noch weiter. Nelly wollte nicht mitspielen und auch keine Abtreibung. Erst versucht der Typ sie zu überreden, dass sie noch zu jung sei und sich nicht mit einem Baby belasten wolle und als sie sich dann Nelly abmeldete mit der Nachricht, dass sie nachdenken müsse, gingen wüste Beschimpfungen und Bedrohungen los. Das Mädchen ist nicht zu Beneiden.“

Smyth sah sich die Protokolle des Chatverlaufs an. „Zeitlich kommt es ihn, dass sie nach ihrer Nachricht bald zu Skinner Norris gekommen ist.“

„Sogar ziemlich direkt, denn sie kommt eigentlich aus Santa Monica. Mit dem Bus oder oder Anhalter dauert es in etwa genau so lange wie sie gebracht hat, um bei Skinny aufzutauchen.“, sagte Shaw.

„Wissen Sie denn schon wer Nelly ist? Und ihre Eltern?“, fragte Smyth. Shaw sah mit einem unbewegten Blick auf: „Nein, sonst hätte ich die Eltern ja verständigen müssen. Ich weiß lediglich durch die Funkzellenabfrage, dass sie sich in den Wochen zu vor in Santa Monica aufgehalten hat. Bis ein genauer Name und ihre Familie gefunden wurde, wird es wohl noch etwas dauern.“

Smyth zog eine Augenbraue hoch. Shaw hatte keinen Tell, dass er log, außer dass er dermaßen gelangweilt aussah, als hätte er diese Frage schon tausendfach beantwortet.

„Glauben Sie, der Mann – der werdende Vater ��� kommt auch aus Santa Monica?“, fragte Smyth.

Shaw wog den Kopf hin und her: „Wahrscheinlich. Mein... externer Ermittler hat ein Täterprofil erstellt. Der Mann hat mehrfach versucht spontane Treffen einzuleiten, also weit können sie nicht von einander entfernt sein. Außerdem würde sie wohl kaum dort bleiben, wo sie ihm jederzeit über den Weg laufen könnte.“

Smyth warf einen Blick auf ein Handschriftlich verfasstes Täterprofil, das scheinbar mehrere Seiten umfasste mit Querverweisen zu den entsprechenden Chatstellen. Saubere Arbeit. „Dann sollten wir auch die Kollegen aus Santa Monica verständigen. Nicht, dass das Mädchen in seinem Keller sitzt und wir uns in Rocky Beach dumm und dämlich suchen.“, sagte Smyth.

„Das glaube ich nicht. Aus den Gesprächen geht hervor, dass er wohl noch bei seinem Eltern lebt und da wohl immer jemand Zuhause ist. Ein fremdes Mädchen würde denen wohl auffallen.“ Shaw rieb sich über die Augen. „Aber mit den Kollegen haben sie natürlich recht.“

„Dann schicke ich gleich ein Schreiben rüber.“, sagte Smyth. Wurde Zeit Shaw nicht alles alleine machen zu lassen.

„Skinny hat noch etwas gesagt, über dass ich nachdenke.“ Shaw lehnte sich in seinem Stuhl zurück: „Der Typ, der ihn angegriffen hat, war verdammt schnell und gut koordiniert. Und so wie Skinny Brust aussah, habe ich den Verdacht, dass er das professionell macht. Vielleicht ist es nur der Handlanger vom werdenden Vater, vielleicht der Vater selbst, aber vielleicht können wir die Suche damit eingrenzen.“

„Wie stellen Sie sich das vor?“, fragte Smyth ratlos. „Alle Männer, die irgendwann mal Kampfsport gemacht haben zu überprüfen. In Kalifornien?“

„Ein bisschen mehr haben wir schon. Es gibt verschiedene kleine Hinweise in den Chats. Der werdende Vater ist vorbestraft und geht nicht mehr zur Schule, scheint aber auch noch nicht zu Arbeiten. Selbst wenn der Kampfsporttyp nur ein Handlanger ist, ist er vermutlich im ähnlichen Alter.“, sagte Shaw. Smyth zeigte sich nicht beeindruckt: „Trotzdem ziemlich dürftig.“

Shaw runzelte unzufrieden die Stirn und griff nach seinem Handy. Während er jemanden anrief, stand er auf und ging in richtig Hinterausgang, wohin die meisten Raucher für die Zigarettenpause gingen. Smyth konnte gerade noch hören: „Hey Dritter, ich bräuchte deine Hilfe...“

War Shaw jetzt sauer? Oder hatte er irgendeinen Informanten? Aber welchen Informanten nannte man Dritter?

16:23 Uhr, am Rande des Einkaufsviertels, Rocky Beach.

Smyth starrte durch die Windschutzscheibe auf das Haus: „Okay, was machen wir hier?“

„Nachschauen, ob hier vielleicht Nelly ist.“, sagte Shaw.

„Wieso?“, fragte Smyth.

„Brauchen Sie jetzt nen Grund nach einem verschwunden Kind zu suchen?“, fragte Skinner Norris vom Rücksitz, wo er breitbeinig in der Mitte saß und sich natürlich nicht angeschnallt hatte. Smyth wusste nicht, ob man das als Mut oder Dummheit bewerten sollte.

„Einen Grund nicht aber sachdienliche Anhaltspunkte.“ Smyth war einen eisigen Blick nach hinten. Skinny rollte mit den Augen und stieg aus. Shaw versuchte es versöhnlicher: „Die Recherchen von einem Freund haben ergeben, dass diesem Haus verschiedene Kampfsportarten unterrichtet werden, aber gerade Sommerpause ist. Also sollte niemand hier sein.“

„Was das verschlossene Tor erklärt.“, sagte Smyth trocken. Shaw steig aus: „Wir können ja mal schauen, ob uns etwas auffällt.“ Etwas unwillig bei einer so nonexistenten Hinweislage stieg Smyth auch aus dem Auto aus und besah sich Haus, Zaun und Boden. Nichts was hier auffällig war.

Skinny scharrte ungeduldig mit den Schuhen im Staub: „Gehen wir jetzt rein?“

Smyth schüttelte den Kopf: „Ohne Durchsuchungsbefehl dürfen wir nicht auf das Gelände.“ Skinny verzog das Gesicht und sah zu Shaw, als würde er erwarten, dass dieser widersprach. Als das nicht passierte, stöhnte er genervt auf und starrte böse auf das Haus. Nach einem Moment hob er fragend den Kopf: „Aber wenn ihr eine verdächtige Person über den Zaun steigen sehen würdest, solltet ihr doch hinterher, oder?“

„Ja, schon.“, sagte Shaw. „Aber mit deinem Hämatom bei der Höhe-“ Skinny unterbrach ihn: „Ja, ja, sei mal Freund und Helfer und stell dich hierher. Leicht in die Knie gehen die Hände miteinander verschränken, festen Stand suchen. Gaaaanz toll. Und jetzt hop.“ Shaw hatte natürlich verstanden, was Skinny wollte sonst wäre das alles nach hinten losgegangen. Aber so machte er Skinny eine astreine Räuberleiter, sodass sich Skinny ohne Problem über den Zaun schwingen könnte. Und ohne seine verletzte Brust überanstrengen zu müssen.

Smyth blinzelte drei mal: „Kollege, ich glaube, Sie haben gerade bei einem Einbruch geholfen.“

„Da weiß ich nichts von.“, sagte Shaw ruhig. „Aber wir sollten der verdächtigen Person folgen.“'

„Sie meinen Ihrem Freund, der gerade eingebrochen ist?“, harkte Smyth noch mal nach. Shaw schüttelte den Kopf: „Als Freunde kann man uns wirklich nicht bezeichnen.“ Einsehend, dass nicht mehr Informationen kommen würden, betrachtete Smyth den hohen Zaun. Smyth selbst war bei Weitem nicht so groß wie Shaw und so kam die leise Frage: „....machen Sie mir auch ne Räuberleiter?“

Shaw grinste und stellte sich sofort in Position: „Sicher... allez hopp.“

„Wenn Sie mich fallen lassen, Shaw, verlassen Sie wieder den Innendienst.“ Smyth zeigte den besten drohenden Blick, der Kadetten und Verbrecher gleichermaßen einschüchterte. Shaw aber verdrehte nur die Augen: „Weniger quatschen, mehr hopp.“

Hopp.

Smyth stieg ergebend in die dargebotenen Hände und wurde überraschend sicher hoch gehoben. Gekonnt schwang Smyth ein Bein über den Zaun und sah runter: „Wie kommen Sie jetzt hoch?“

„Springen Sie erst mal runter.“ Shaw lächelte leicht, und als Smyth unten war, ging er zwei Schritte zurück und sprang mit einem einzigen Satz so hoch, dass er die Zaunkante erreichte.

„Angeber.“, murmelte Smyth.

Skinny lachte gehässig: „Sie haben ja keine Ahnung.“

„Könnten wir jetzt bitte ein Kind suchen gehen?“, fragte Shaw.

Smyth nickte kurz. Alles was passiert war und alle neuen Informationen müssten später sortiert werden. Vielleicht klärte sich ja schon etwas aus, sobald bekannt war wer Dritter war und wie der wiederum dieses Haus gefunden hatte. Und wer hatte das Täterprofil erstellt?

_____

tbc. Teil 8

(Weiter bin ich nicht gekommen, obwohl meine Ideen ein bisschen wild geworden sind. Wie man an diesem ziemlich langen Teil sehen kann.)

[unfug-bilder]

(C) Katja Berlin

Morgen 20.15 h ARD-Brennpunkt Uschi Glas!

[the-hexfiles]

Grace (Crosshair x AFAB!)

Chapter One: Dive Bar

Rating: Explicit

Content: Fluff, smut, little angst. First-Person Narrative, with nameless narrator (can be read as x reader) Post-empire Crosshair. Mentions of self-harm by the narrator because I H/C Cross couldn’t fall in love post-empire, unless it was with someone who understood trauma and healing.

Wordcount: 4.7k

A/N: This is my first fan-fic and my first attempt at smut.

Soundtrack: Sleepover by Hayley Kiyoko

Next...

Smack.

           “Fuck, Crosshair! You don't have to go that hard!” I said, trying to shake the stinging sensation off the back of my hand. The boys in the booth on the opposite side of the bar snickered to themselves when Wrecker whispered “That’s what she said.” Crosshair rolled the toothpick to the other side of his smirk, as I tucked the pile of cards into the bottom of my hand. Omega peeked her head over the bar next to Crosshair, with a bright little smile on her face.

           “Cross, you pay her,” I said, taking another swig of my cocktail, not looking at either clone in front of me.

           “I'm not the one cursing in front of kids.”

I flashed him a dirty look before I dipped into my tip jar and tossed her five credits.

           “Why is there a child in my bar anyways, Bouncer?” I joked as Crosshair and I tossed cards on the bar simultaneously.

           “Do you want me to kick her out?” Crosshair replied, slapping the pile of cards as fast as he tossed the jack down.

           “Damn you and your fast hands.”

           “They’ll go as fast or slow as you like,” he whispered with a small smirk. I rolled my eyes with a smile.

                                                       ***

           I had never met any of The Batch until Crosshair walked in alone late one night. I saw the first four of them around the square and docks when Phee first brought them to Pabu, then they were gone for a while. When they came back, they looked like they’d trekked through hell, with Crosshair in tow. He showed up within his first few days on the island, coming in alone late one night, sipping on Corellian whiskey until I made the last call. This went on for a week before I got tired of him staring into his glass in silence when it was dead. I started handing him my data pad to play music.

           Over a few weeks, he moved from the table in the furthest corner of the room, to sitting at the end of the bar, leaning across to grab the card deck or data pad when he was bored and I was busy with customers. The first time he leaned over the bar to grab the data pad himself he spied the blaster sitting behind my purse.

           “What are you afraid of?”

           “I live, work, and walk home, alone,” I said, lifting boxes and rotating bottles in the cooler.

           He gave a low hum, and punched in one of the bar playlists I premade. That night he stayed until I finished closing to walk me home. He learned my schedule and walked me home every morning, even on days he hadn't been sitting at the bar. I had started tossing his tips back at him and made a playlist of his favorite songs. He waited patiently, listening to me hum along to the music as I cleaned, stocked, and took inventory. Our general conversations were short, but consistent, and enough was always said. I learned about him and his brothers' time with the GAR, knew about a stint with the Empire before he defected, but that was all. No real details, just his scars on the side of his head and neck, and an agonized look in his eyes as he stared down at his drink, or stared off at the ocean when he walked me home.

           A few more weeks went by: the playful flirting started, his brothers and sister started coming along for a couple hours here and there to play darts or cards. Crosshair always sat with them when they came along, with a more tense and quiet demeanor. A particularly busy night a lightweight local felt bold enough to grab my ass as I leaned over the table to collect the boys' glasses. Before I could whip around to push him off, Crosshair had him by the shirt collar and was walking him out the front door. The bar owner, Joy, who was helping me behind the bar, laughed “Cross if you're gonna be here all the time and so damn protective anyways, I could use a bouncer. Not much pay, but the work is steady.”

           So, after working together for a couple months, slapjack became our game of choice on slow nights. I tried taking him on once at darts; absolutely never again. Billiards? Even worse. Sabacc was fun until he started using the mirror behind the bar to cheat. Slapjack and War I at least stood a chance.

                                                       ***

           “Last call boys, let's let them go home,” Joy said as she came out of her office. “I'll close up, enjoy your day tomorrow.” She said, looking at me. Crosshair took the cards from my hand “What’s tomorrow?”

           “Just took the day off,” I said, dancing around his question as I grabbed his siblings' glasses off the bar. Lost in thought and moving on autopilot, I didn't realize he had come behind the bar and was trying to walk behind me as I bent down to grab sanitizer tablets from under the sink. My ass knocked directly into his crotch, nearly toppling him over, so he grabbed my hips to steady himself. Both of us froze briefly until I started laughing and winked over my shoulder at him, “Hey there handsome,”

           “We're in public, dear, control yourself,” he said, smiling and squeezing out from between my ass and the back counter to get to my things.

           “Alright! Cross is finally getting some action!” Wrecker's laugh filled the empty bar.

           “Finally?” I looked to Wrecker then to Crosshair who was facing away from everyone, shoulders tensed.

           “Nice, Wrecker,” Hunter said, nudging Omega towards the door.

           “This is a conversation we should not be here for,” Tech said and nodded to Joy as he followed the group out.

           Outside of the bar, I looked over at him as we walked. The moonlight highlighted his sharp profile. “So, what have you been telling them about us?” I bumped him with my elbow playfully.

He looked down at me briefly before looking back at the lit walkway, “There's nothing to tell,” he said seemingly annoyed, “You never answered my question from earlier.”

           “I didn't know I had to.”

           “You don't.”

I let silence fill the space between us for a moment.

           “My birthday.”

           “So it's special,” he said looking down at me. He was tall, I barely came up to his shoulder.

           “I guess. More like Joy just insisted I take a day to enjoy myself instead of dealing with Saturday night locals.”

            “What's the plan for tomorrow then?”

            “Nothing. Maybe laundry while I listen to a movie.”

That quiet hum again passed his lips, then nothing until he walked me to the door and said goodnight.

            Morning invaded my bedroom too soon. Light creeped across the floor and onto my pillow waking me before I was ready to face the world. When I rolled over and adjusted my pillow, I was almost comfortable enough to fall back to sleep when there was a timid knock at my front door. Annoyed and half asleep, I clipped up my hair, put on a cami and boxers I found on the floor and walked into the living room. I opened the door to a blinding sunrise and a lightly blushing Crosshair holding two to-go cups of caf.

           “Is that for me?” I said pointing to one of the cups, “Why are you blushing? Why are you here?” I said, stepping aside to let him in. As he stepped into the living room I was rudely awakened by the realization I hadn't cleaned all week. My house was small enough, you could see everything from the front door. Living room area to the left had a chair, caf table, and loveseat. A full laundry basket covered half the loveseat, 2 empty mugs and half a glass of water sat on the table. The chair had a rumpled blanket tossed across the arm. To the right was an open kitchen with a little island and a 2 person dining table. Ration bars and instant soup sat in grocery bags on the kitchen counter, while the dining table was covered in notes, and my dumped-out-purse-contents. My bedroom door was wide open to reveal the dirty laundry thrown across the floor, and a stack of books, 2 water bottles, 2 mugs, and my blaster on the nightstand. The refresher had cosmetics littered across the counter and last night's outfit and a damp towel on the floor.

           “Happy birthday. I was going to take you to breakfast but I see you've opted to skip wearing clothes today?” He said, handing me a cup and glancing down at my mostly bare legs and obviously braless chest under the cami. Unlike his brothers, he wore dark civilian clothes most days; but this day he looked particularly nice. He was wearing a black button up with dark pants and his GAR boots. The top two buttons were undone on his shirt, letting a few lines of a tattoo on his chest peek out.

           “I just woke up. Um, pants are probably in the basket. Sorry about the mess,” I said, taking a sip of caf and setting it down before making a panicked search in the laundry basket.

            “What happened?”

            “I don't like sleeping with clothes on, and I wasn't expecting company. If you give me a few minutes I can get ready to go–"

             “No. Your scars.”

I looked down at my thighs. Sure enough, just below the hem of the boxers, visible through dark tattoos, were the deliberate, straight marks across the tops of my thighs. All of my scars and stretch marks usually blended pretty well into my skin or were covered by tattoos, but they were still there, still visible to staring eyes. I pulled on a pair of sweats before I tried to busy myself with picking up the stuff off the caf table: “Not everyone heals from trauma gracefully,” I gestured to the chaos around my small house, “I still struggle, but at least my house I can clean.” Hands full, I turned towards the kitchen and tried to hurry by him, “Thanks for the caf. You remembered how I–”

        He stepped in front of me and reached to my hands, briefly tracing my knuckles with his long fingers before grabbing the dishes from me: “Need some help? Or company?”

I froze at the sudden and gentle contact, but held his eyes as I felt a warmth creep into my cheeks.

        “You, Crosshair, skilled marksman for the GAR and Imperial convict, are going to help me fold my panties?”

        “How else am I supposed to get a look?” He said with a smirk and light blush, turning into the kitchen. “You could always ask nicely,” I smiled and rushed to the dining table to condense the clutter. “Wait, what about breakfast?” 

“We’ll make it lunch,” He said as he kicked off his boots by the front door.

       I cut up some fruit and brought it to the living room. He’d sat on the free section of the loveseat, briefly glancing over a novel I had on the side table. I put the laundry basket on the floor between us and sat on the other end of the sofa. He put the book down and grabbed a piece of red fabric sticking out of the basket, pulling out a little red dress. I started a movie and watched him hold up the dress and stare at it confused.

           “You don't fold those, if you were wondering.”

           “It's short…”

           “A friend bought it for me, but it's tight and my scars show. Not sure what occasion I’ll have for it, but it's cute. I'll let it sit in my closet for a while.”

He draped the dress on the arm of the loveseat and picked through the basket until he found something he knew how to fold.

        The movie carried on while I put the clean clothes away and picked up the dirty clothes off the bedroom and refresher floor. When I was done, Crosshair was settled into the loveseat, feet up on the table and one arm draped across the back. He seemed relaxed until I sat down and saw he was grinding down on his toothpick.

           “I'm still not used to being all domestic.” He answered before I could ask, feeling my stare on his profile.

I curled up into myself on the loveseat, but even being on the opposite side, his long arm could reach completely across and he brushed the back of my neck with his thumb.

           “You didn't have to–” I said sheepishly.

           “Relax. You're not the problem. I offered to help. I'm still…”

           “Trying to make this place a home?”

           He stopped clenching his jaw and looked over at me for a moment before looking back at the movie. He continued the gentle touch on the back of my neck, tickling little the curls that slipped from my bun. I let the movie play for a few moments, to see if he had more to say. But he just continued rubbing the back of my neck with his thumb for a while longer before I spoke:

           “I know that no matter how welcoming a place or person can be, after being fucked with for so damn long its hard to feel safe. But I want you to feel safe here, because you've made me feel safe for the first time in so long,” I looked over at him. His eyes were flicking back and forth across the holo, trying to find something to say. Catching sight of the near tears in his eyes I added: “Even when you startle me by dropping by at the ass crack of dawn without warning.”

He gave my curls a gentle tug with a snicker and I laughed.

            “I don't have your comm frequency” He said with a smirk.

           I playfully made a shocked face, “Don't have my frequency, but now you've folded my intimates.”

           “And rubbed my crotch into your ass.” He said bluntly, looking back over at me.

           “Look at you, getting all this action,” I said as I pinched his side playfully, catching a good spot on his waist that made him flinch.

           “Wrecker doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut about other people's business.” He whipped his head back to the movie.

           “Never known the company of a fairer kind?” I said playfully, still looking at him. He let a few moments pass, blush creeping into ears and cheeks, clamping down on his toothpick.

           “Is that a problem?” He finally said, still avoiding my face.

           “No. And not shocking either. Can't imagine you really had that much time to enjoy R&R during the odd times you got it.” I looked back at the movie.

           “Never had any interest before now anyways,” He said.

           I felt him shift on the loveseat, felt his hand creep up into my hair and gently take out the clip. I looked over right as he took the toothpick out of his mouth with his free hand and set it on the lid of his empty caf cup. His eyes met mine as I shifted my body to face him and reached over towards his waist again, “Before now, huh?” I said with a smile pulling on his shirt. I heard the clip clatter to the floor.

           He leaned into my reach, crawling fully up on the loveseat to lay his body between my legs, one hand still in my hair as he held himself up with the other one. I gripped onto his shirt with both hands, until he stopped leaning towards me, hovering close, flicking his eyes back and forth to study my face. My left hand cupped his face and my thumb caressed his cheekbone, tracing the bottom line of his tattoo. His body weight pressed into my hips, bringing my attention to my dampening set of boxers and a warmth radiating off both of us.

           “Sit up, or kiss me dammit.” I said, breaking the staring contest we seemed to have started. He let out a low huff and pressed his smile to mine. I giggled against his lips.

           “What's so funny?” He said pulling back enough to answer and pinch my side.

           “This has become a very nice birthday.”

He pressed his lips back to mine, more passionately, giving a gentle tug on my hair, and creeping his other hand under my cami to grip my waist. His hands were warm against my stomach but my hands made him shiver as I slid my hand under his shirt and over his abs. I moved to pull away but he leaned in further, holding tight. I slipped my hands back out and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Once undone, my hands traced up and down his upper body, feeling out every muscle line and scar, while his hand alternated between squeezing my waist and sliding up and down my thigh.

        He pulled away to catch his breath and tucked his face into the curve of my neck. After a moment he slid his fingers into the waistband of my sweats, breathing becoming heavy and slow, kissing behind my ear. I grabbed his arm to make him look at me. He freed his hand from behind my head to hold himself up.

        “You don't have to take this further than you want, you know. I’m perfectly fine with waiting as long as you want.”

He smirked slightly, then in almost one fluid motion lifted me up into his arms as he pushed himself up off the loveseat. He carried me into my bedroom and threw me onto the unmade bed and climbed back over top of me, an obvious tightness in the front of his pants pressing into my soaking boxers. He brought his lips back to my neck, corners of his lips tugging into a gentle smile. A soft sigh escaped me as he kissed down my neck towards my collar bone, making him grind into my hips playfully. 

           I tugged at his unbuttoned shirt to try to pull it off. Without moving his lips from my skin he pulled it off and tossed it aside, then continued teasing at my waistband. I pushed against him to sit up, pushing him off long enough to pull my shirt off and toss it onto the floor. He looked down at my bare chest, flushed. His hands ghosted across my stomach and waist as he brought his hands to my breasts. I started working at his pants while his eyes and hands explored my bare skin. He traced the tattoo along my right rib cage before bringing his hand back to cup my breasts.

           When I managed to undo his belt and buttons, he began tugging down my sweats. I let him slide off my pants and boxers but froze as he eyed up my entirely naked body, feeling myself dripping on the bed with anticipation. Feeling suddenly self conscious remembering the scars and stretchmarks that patterned my thighs and hips I reached for his pants again, this time he relented to back off the bed long enough to pull them all the way off, his hard cock freed of any restraint and his eyes never stopping their roam about my body.

        He climbed back over top of me, starting his kisses again from behind my ear, down my neck, across my collar bone, trailing all the way down to my thighs. My legs draped across his shoulders, hands squeezing my thighs, he flicked his gaze between my eyes and my dripping folds.

           “May I?”

           “You know what to do?” I said teasing.

He nipped at my thigh, leaving a mark. “I’m a virgin, not a nun,” he started kissing my inner thighs, trailing up to my hips.

           “A visual learner then–” I ended in a gasp, as he licked from my entrance to my clit, stopping and teasing my clit with his tongue with just a slight amount of pressure.

           “I’ll shut up now,” I sighed.

           He chuckled against me, then looked up, “Don't do that,” he licked me again, “how will I know what you like if you're quiet?”

           He devoured me, exploring every possible sigh and moan I could make and focusing his tongue on the movements that made me squirm the most. He played with my clit intensely while his eyes were trained on my face, listening to my panted instructions. As I got closer and closer to my peak, I instinctively grasped onto his hands, still curled around my thighs, holding onto each other like one of us might get washed away.

           “Fuck,” I moaned as my back arched off the bed slightly. I felt the vibrations of his moan against my clit, and he picked up his pace just enough to push me over into my orgasm, thighs squeezing his shoulders, letting go of one of his hands to grab onto the headboard.

           He brought me through my orgasm, still teasing my clit until it bordered overstimulation. I released the headboard to caress his cheek between my legs. He lifted his head away from my soaked pussy, smiling with my arousal all over his chin. With both hands I went to wipe his face but he just kissed my palms before he got up and dipped into the refresher. When he came back, he hovered in the threshold, wiping his smug face with a washcloth with one hand, stroking himself with the other, admiring the sprawled out and puddled mess I was on the bed.

           “You look proud,” I said chuckling. He tossed the washcloth in the hamper and crawled back into bed between my legs, he hovered above my lips for a beat before kissing me. I could taste myself on his tongue before he trailed his kisses across my jaw and back down to my neck, his erection pressing into my pubic. “What would you like from me?” I whispered as I kissed his ear teasingly. He gave a short scoff before shifting his hips so his length moved to grind between my wet folds. One hand slid up my thigh as I bent my legs to wrap them around his waist, while his other hand cupped my face as he continued his kisses on my neck and collar bone. He shifted his hips as I reached for his length to line it up, both of us moaning deeply as he pushed himself inside me. I held onto his biceps, as he paused for a moment, head buried in the curve of my neck. “Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned into my skin, before slowly rutting into me.

           It wasn’t long before he was fucking me hard and groaning unabashedly. The hand that was cupping my face, gripped onto the sheets beside my head, while he held himself deep inside me holding onto my hip. My knuckles were white, switching between holding onto his arms and digging into his waist, leaving small red scratches down his sides. His orgasm came hard and fast, slamming his hips into me, resting his forehead on mine as he came.

           He lifted his flushed face away from mine, not looking at me as he started to pull out and back off the bed. “Wait, Cross,” I said trying to hang onto his arm but he gently pulled away and slipped into the refresher.

           I waited a few minutes before I got up and knocked on the door. When there was no response, I tested the door and found it unlocked. He was facing away from me, staring at the shower but made no move to turn it on. “What’s wrong?” I asked, closing the refresher door behind me. He glanced over his shoulder at me, then back at the shower. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my head into his back, his body oddly tense. “Can we shower together, or do you want space?” I let silence fill the room for a moment. After a pause, he took one of my hands and kissed it, “Stay,” was his only response.

           He avoided looking at face until we were curled up on the dry side of the bed. I rested my head on his shoulder, my leg draped across his hips, tracing the outline of the skull and 99 tattoos on his chest. I listened to his heartbeat, smelling my soap on his skin, feeling his right arm wrapped around me, thumb rubbing circles around my own tattoo. I was starting to doze off when he spoke:

           “You didn’t…” He kept staring up at the ceiling, “...finish, a second time.”

           “And?”

           He looked at me as I sat up on my elbow to look down at him. “If that’s what you’re upset over, don’t be. Once is plenty to start. Come on, take me to lunch.” I pinched his side, making him flinch and briefly frown at me. “We’ll worry about round two later,” I said, starting to roll over him to get off the bed, but he held me over him, my legs straddling his naked waist.

           “Round two?” he asked. Maker, he was adorable when he was confused.

           “Only if you want to,” I kissed his forehead and continued off the bed to get dressed.

           “Only if you wear that red dress,” he smiled. He laid on the bed, with his hands behind his head and propped up on my pillows, as he watched me get ready before he got up to pick his own clothes up off the floor.

                                                       ***

           “How was it?” Hunter asked when he came up to buy another round. 

           "How was what?” I said smiling to myself and yawning as I grabbed him another cider.

           “Yesterday,” he said, giving a suggestive smile and glancing over at Crosshair – who never did go back to the Marauder that night, opting to just wash his clothes before work.

           Crosshair sat at the opposite end of the bar, watching a particularly rowdy group of women enjoying their phattro a little too much.

           “It was quite lovely. He makes for good company.”

           “Thanks for being good to him. And let us know if he fucks up, we'll straighten him out.”

           “Oh I don’t think he’ll be a problem,” I said as I popped the top off the cider and handed it to him with a smile. “She is, though,” I said nodding to Omega standing next to Hunter with her hand out.

           “Don’t I get a favorite brother pass or something?”

           “You do, but you used it earlier today.”

           “This is all your fault,” he said playfully scowling at me.

           Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the women walk up to Crosshair and put her hand on his shoulder, whispering something in his ear. I looked at Hunter who was clearly eavesdropping, smiling. When I looked over, Crosshair was pointing at me. She pouted then waved me over, asking for another phattro. When she walked back over to her group, I leaned against the bar beside Crosshair, grabbing my cards from my bag, “What did she want?”

           “Jealous?” he said smirking, taking the cards from my hand and shuffling them.

           “You pointed at me, I have a right to know what excuse you used me for,” I said yawning again.

           “Not an excuse. She asked if I had someone,” he said flatly, dealing cards between the two of us. “I kept you up too late last night,” he said as I yawned for a third time and finished my caff, soaking the mug in the sink.

           “Please do it again,” I said with a sleepy smile, picking up my cards. “But not tonight. Let’s just cuddle tonight.”

           “Who said I was spending another night?” He said with a smirk, playing with the edge of the top card.

           “Me. Pick up clean clothes from the Marauder before we go back to my place.”

           “I need to wear clothes?”

           I gave him a playful wink and we started tossing cards onto the bartop.

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

Next...

[jazeswhbhaven]

The Most Profane & The Most Beautiful | Leviathan Torture Card | React | Spoilers

So, from my understanding the week of all Saints Day (after Halloween) the devils get weak and the angels are stronger (this lasts for seven days)

Prior to MC being summoned Levi was having hallucinations of his old peers that were with him in the Devil Camps in heaven

Levi's condition is getting worse, and the nobles talk about it. A funny thing is Glas assuming Foras tends to Levi's bed (meaning he's instigating that they bump uglies) and I was like….Glas pls. It's almost like you're jealous

So his final dream before his disappearance, is of Orias and the other devil children from the past during the fire at the camps, Orias doubting that Levi would save them and Levi is convinced he can

A note I wanted to add is maybe MC forgot or this story is different from the Bloodshed Card lore, because if ya'll remember Barbatos explained that each devil would hang themselves if something happened to Levi and I'm sure this is mentioned in other cards too (his Bath one iirc) but them being thrown off by Glas reminding them of that and why they can't reveal he's not in Hades atm had me shaking my head but yeah I guess the devs don't carry over certain details from the other cards for MC to remember and treats each card story as if MC is hearing it for the first time.

Us finding out Levi doesn't sleep well because he's too busy thinking about who MC is fucking is wild. Pls sleep Levi.

SO we get some Selaphiel content! He went after Orias to lure Levi to Heaven. Odd, since I figured Orias could handle a cherubim but I guess not.

Oh he's hot.  (sry, Levi)

So Selaphiel here is literally getting off on the thought of tormenting Levi. His strategy is to keep him there and eventually Hell will crumble due to his absence. Why? Because Levi is the most strict when it comes to the rules of Hell, without that structure everyone else is doomed. (Huh. Never thought of it that way but I guess Levi is in fact the glue that holds everyone together strategy wise. He did train Sitri after all)

Beleth calls Foras "Cotton Candy boy" btw and I think that's funny as hell

So we're in Niflheim meeting up with Beleth because MC and Foras need his help. They're discussing the details in Belphie's room is knocked the fuck out lmao. Ofc they are nervous that he'd overhear but yeah nah he out out. Ni ni.

Two things: Beleth likes snacks if you come to him with something to do, Second…apparently he claims Lucifer wouldn't of been able to help. Now that's interesting. The fact that Foras and MC didn't go to Lucifer either was probably for "avoiding the kings" reason. But this leans into my "Lucifer is an anti-hero" theory. Stayed in Hell because he didn't agree with his brother's methods, but doesn't go out of his way to mess up Heaven either. Some of us saw this in the preview for the new area of Dark Sanctuary where the Kings were explaining that Lucifer wouldn't show up to help them take care of the Seraphim.

Now with Beleth's help, MC can learn how to act like an angel and infiltrate Heaven to rescue Levi. He is unable to do it himself and any other devil for that matter because of their weakened powers. Apparently MC ain't getting' no sleep either.

Important thing to mentioned about what I said about certain lore carrying over. They did in fact mention Levi's bath story and that MC remembers that. I guess it slipped their mind about the other details. This leads me to believe that this Torture card happens right after his Bath Card > Bloodshed > Torture. I say Bloodshed because that event happens on Halloween.

????????!!!!!!??!?!??!!?!??!??!?!?!??!

I would so be down to swallow Foras cock and take backshots from Beleth a n y d a y (Foras ofc is very possessive he ain't sharing it seems. Not nicely anyway)

B e l e t h

*screams, throws something, punches the air* S TO PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP he call me sugar.

So sweet.

(that is a reference to a song…a song probably I only listen to in this fandom lmaoooo)

Something is purring, and it ain't Beleth.

So after some training, dang it MC you and your one track brain memorizing porn stars…(idk what that's for tbh but if Beleth said it's good enough it is) we meet one of the 72 which I can't wait to get a formal introduction to him. Zepar! He's going to turn MC into an angel as a disguise

Zepar has rules: Don't take off the talisman on his forehead. Don't ask questions about where he's from. Don't use the word master around him. Don't touch any joints on his body. He has more rules but it's too long to recite them lmaoooo I hope we get the full list later cause I wanna know the rules of interacting with him.

Funny thing again: Beleth cut open his skin to give angel's blood for the ritual needed for MC's disguise. Zepar said one drop was enough and Beleth is like "damn you should have said that" and then Foras does the same, knowing a drop is enough but he just wanted to one up Beleth. (he's been acting catty this entire time lmaooooo he really is such a diva when it comes to impressing MC)

It took goddamn 14 hours to complete the ritual with Zepar and he made Beleth and Foras stick around. Not because they were needed but because he didn't want to be alone. I would kick his ass lmaoooooo (Beleth was about to)

So they mentioned MC's skintone changing…..I don't like that LMAO ya'll ain't taking my melanin hell nah. It better stay there during the transformation.

Damn. Hold up let me slide in your DMs….

This angel's name is Jophiel. Due to the sprite placement next to Beleth it was assumed that he's either floating or flying but in the CG he looks shorter than Beleth so idk what his height is. I just know he's fine too like hey hey quick threesome before I go? Yeah? In the open is fineeeee

No threesome though. Apparently there's a thin barrier between Heaven and Hell where either can't cross. Sitri explained it to MC  once.

MC is rank 9, the lowest angel that no one remembers. I wonder if that means the little creature lookin' ones are part of that lowest rank or just familiars that help the humanoid angels

And Jophiel caught MC btw fucking up already. They walked instead of using their wings. Angels don't make a sound when they walk, ONLY using their wings. The fact that he let it slide and whispered this to MC means that he knows what's up and is doing Beleth a solid. It's intriguing how Heaven bends rules like that. This would be considered double-crossing. But I mean he came down to Hell to speak to Beleth anyway so….YOLO

MC manages to find Levi before the execution ceremony but seeing him in anguish and hung up by chains on display as he replayed his traumatic past in his head made them rage with jealousy. Their disguise drops, feathers and all. All Saint's Day is over…so devil powers are back in full throttle! But it's not enough….Michael shows up.

But it's Orias to the rescue! Yeah the path to Heaven for him wasn't easy but he got two angel souls out of it so let's go.

Orias attacking Michael wasn't enough though, it takes MC enticing Levi to snap him out of his state. Ya'll…this part was just me being like "Ah classic MC." Nothing too out of the ordinary just them being themselves as per usual.

So a personal thing for me is the transition from deep angst lore to horny. I was in the zone seeing action and thrill and then suddenly "Damn I'm getting wet from looking at that outfit Levi is in." Which…idk to me maybe that transition makes sense for MC but for me since I was in the moment I was like ?????? Why are we horny? Oh yeah this is a 18+ game okay ._. LOL

All this damn commotion and MC just lickin' and suckin' on Levi.  I'm not sure if I'm allowed to show his nips on here full monty but phew they were something else….it's because of the chain and nip rings not sure if that would trigger anything for the flagging bot.

I'm sorry ya'll but something throbbed.

Anyways.

A new monster Levi can summon btw. New to us but most likely not new to the powers he has. I hope we get more lore on this monster in the future.

Yay Levi is saved, takes MC home and fucks them for hours. Let me tell ya'll a little secret about my thing with Levi….

I like it when he gets mad and puts us through the mattress asking if we're going to do things with other men and being possessive during. Because antagonizing him makes him more rough and I personally call myself a theoretical brat. The way I'd tell him "Yeah I'm gonna shake my tits and ass for everyone even if you've fucked me to mush" and see what he does. That's when I don't mind that envious attitude of his.

BUT YEAH that's it ya'll. For the story. Those are the summarized parts without giving the entire thing away. These were the important points for me. Personally the story being 90% angst, training, and lore with a dab of sex at the end was really what I personally think is worth paying $60-$75 dollars for in terms of a exclusive card. Yes, it's the Kings…and it sucks that good stuff like this is paywalled…but at least they gave us something different other than 5% story and sex sex sex sex. I know ya'll were here for that but phew does it get tiring after it being so one dimensional, ya know what I mean?

MC does a thing for X King, they meet, they fuck, MC is either dominating or dominants at first then switches. Cum everywhere. End. I'm sorry LMAO that's how I've been seeing most of the sex with the L cards so far…like at least with this card I had plot with porn. Finally…

Story rating: 9.5/10!!!

I didn't give a full 10 because the abrupt transition to horny and the mention of MC's skintone changing to what I assume is a paler tone when there's literally Beleth and Jophiel that have at least some melanin to them.

 I'm now wanting Satan's Torture card story to see how they write that one. Which I am HOPING TO FUCKING ALL IS GOOD IN THE UNIVERSE that we get some more in depth Satan lore. Like please. 

Small tidbits from his chats and date story btw:

Levi kept the disguise outfit that MC wore to heaven, MC is only allowed to wear it for him, vise versa with his outfit he got from Heaven

Levi was upset that he was "lied to" because MC told him they'd sleep in the other kings beds and he's been waiting for them to do that (okay??? LMAO)

Foras reports everything to him.  E v e r y t h I n g. You can't even take a piss without Foras reporting it.

There's dildoes weren't originally called that in Hell/Heaven which is why no one knew what MC meant by the word dildo (HA I WAS RIGHT)

109+ is considered an adult in Hell and is a valid age restriction apparently for sex websites in hell….

I think Levi's threats are mostly empty based on how he speaks with everyone. Because if he truly wanted to kill anyone for sleeping with MC he would have done by now. Lol

He actually thanks MC and made them custom sex toys to remember the event by…we got a whole thank you from him. Praise be.

MC and Levi discuss jealousy, especially when they are particularly jealous of how whenever someone looks at them they see Solomon, their ancestral grandfather instead of them. They feel Levi is amongst the few who truly see them separate from that. Also, apparently MC can't even look at the ceiling without Levi accusing them of thinking about someone else. I find that hilarious.

And fin~

Now if Levi isn't your fave, I think Satan is next? So I'd stay tuned and expect the story format to be the same! I ofc didn't share the full story here as per PB's warning so there are things I intentionally didn't bring up that someone else may reveal or share. (shoutout to my mootie moot for sharing this story with me!!)

As always, thank you for reading, stay awesome and lovely. -your lovely adminnn ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Oh to be taken to pound town by these two.

[vhscorp]

Pour qu’un amour dure, les amants doivent absolument savoir être seuls et apprécier leur solitude : s’ils en sont incapables, alors ils basculeront immanquablement dans la dépendance, le manque de confiance et le désir de possession, ce qui sonnera, un jour, le glas de leur amour…

V. H. SCORP

[logi1974]

Südengland / Cornwall 2024 - Tag 14

Ladies and Gentlemen!

Heute haben wir wieder einmal Dreckswetter, deswegen streichen wir die ursprüngliche Planung Isle of Portland und entscheiden uns statt dessen für ein Ziel, das in der näheren Umgebung liegt: Montacute House in der Grafschaft Somerset.

Zusätzlicher Nutzen: auch diese Sehenswürdigkeit wird von unserer National Trust Karte abgedeckt.

Das honigfarbene Montacute House ist ein Glanzstück der späten elisabethanischen Architektur und des Designs der elisabethanischen Renaissance.

Mit seinen hoch aufragenden Glaswänden, der Fassade aus Hamstone und der umliegenden Garten- und Parklandschaft ist es ein überwältigender Anblick, selbst bei miesem Wetter, wie heute.

Schon während der Durchfahrt durch das Dorf Montacute mit seinen hübschen Häusern und malerischen Gasthäusern, die alle ebenfalls aus dem gleichen Hamstone, wie das Schloss, erbaut wurden, weiß man gar nicht wohin man zuerst schauen soll.

Dann erhascht man Blicke, durch das imposante zweiflügelige Tor, auf das beeindruckende Gebäude am Ende der ehemaligen offiziellen Zufahrt.

Dies ist das Montacute House, das von Sir Edward Phelips, einem wohlhabenden Anwalt und Mitglied des Parlaments von Elizabeth I., erbaut wurde - ein Ausdruck von Reichtum, Ehrgeiz und Schaustellung.

Als Sprecher des Unterhauses war Phelips ein einflussreicher Mann, der am Prozess gegen Guy Fawkes und die Gunpowder Plotters beteiligt war.

Das Haus wird William Arnold zugeschrieben, einem der talentiertesten Maurerarchitekten der Provinz seiner Zeit. Der Grundriss von Montacute besteht aus der orthodoxen H-Form, die in vielen Häusern dieser Zeit verwendet wurde.

Arnolds Verwendung von Renaissance-Motiven an der Außenseite – darunter klassische Gebälke, die die drei Stockwerke trennen, Segmentgiebel, die die vorspringenden Erker überragen, und die Nischen mit Muschelköpfen unter den Fenstern im Erdgeschoss – zeigen, dass Arnold das neue Haus mit Elementen verschönern wollte, die in der zweiten Hälfte des 16. Jahrhunderts aus Frankreich und Flandern nach England strömten.

Die Innenräume sind mit ausnehmend schönen Kaminen im Tudor-Stil und im darauf folgenden elisabethanischen Stil ausgestattet, sowie einer Reihe heraldischer Fenster aus der Zeit des Baus des Hauses.

Das Haus wurde um 1598 erbaut. Sir Edward Phelips war die visionäre Kraft und das Geld, die hinter der Schaffung dieses Meisterwerks steckten, das 1601 fertiggestellt wurde.

Das Haus war jahrhundertelang das Zuhause der Familie Phelips und bewohnt, bis es 1911 vermietet wurde.

Als man es 1929 zum Verkauf und Verschrottung anbot, wurde es 1931 vom Enkel von Thomas Cook, dem Gründer des bekannten Reisebüros, gerettet.

Er verfügte über die nötigen finanziellen Mittel und erklärte sich bereit, das Haus zu kaufen, um es dem National Trust zu übergeben.

Dieses denkmalgeschützte Gebäude ist eines der wenigen Häuser, die seit der elisabethanischen Zeit praktisch unverändert geblieben sind.

Die beeindruckende Ostfront mit ihren großen Sprossenfenstern vermittelt den Eindruck, dass die gesamte Fassade aus Glas besteht. Die Tudor-Westfassade wurde vom nahegelegenen Clifton Maybank House entfernt und 1786 in Montacute wieder aufgebaut.

Im Erdgeschoss befinden sich die Große Halle und die Küchen. Im ersten Stock lagen die Große Kammer zur Bewirtung sowie einige Schlafzimmer und andere Räume, die von der Familie und ihren Gästen genutzt werden.

Eines der Schlafzimmer im ersten Stock, die Gartenkammer, beherbergt eine einzigartige Einrichtung: ein Sanitärbad, raffiniert in einem Kleiderschrank versteckt!

Es wurde von Lord Curzon, Vizekönig von Indien, der von 1915 bis 1925 in dem Haus lebte, in seinem Schlafzimmer installiert.

Fun Fact: nach seiner Gattin, Lady Curzon, wurde die berühmte Schildkrötensuppe benannt - wahrscheinlich für alle Zeiten DAS! Aushängeschild der englischen Kochkunst.

Im zweiten Stock ist die 172 Fuß lange Long Gallery die längste ihrer Art in England. Neben der Sammlung von Porträts der Familie Phelips befindet sich eine herausragende Sammlung von Tudor- und frühen Stuart-Gemälden, die von der National Portrait Gallery ausgeliehen wurden.

Ganz besonders beeindruckt hat uns allerdings der abgedunkelte Raum im Erdgeschoss, in dem der Wandteppich, mit dem etwas sperrigen Namen: Knight with the Arms of Jean de Daillon, ausgestellt ist.

Der Ritter-Wandteppich ist der einzige aus dem 15. Jahrhundert, von dem bekannt ist, dass er bis heute überlebt hat. Es wurde 1480 fertiggestellt, als die Stadt Tournai den Wandteppich als Geschenk an Daillon „als Belohnung für zahlreiche Gefälligkeiten und freundliche Gesten, die er dieser Stadt erwiesen hat“ bezahlte.

Nach vier Jahren der Konservierung und Reinigung, unter anderem durch Spezialisten in Belgien, wird der älteste Wandteppich in der Obhut des National Trust wieder im Montacute House ausgestellt.

Allerdings nur limitiert und unter strengen Auflagen, ähnlich wie bei der "Blauen Mauritius": Licht, Wärme und Feuchtigkeit würden der kostbaren Antiquität schlichtweg zu sehr zusetzen.

Außergewöhnlich schöne Gärten umgeben das Montacute House und umfassen eine Sammlung von Rosen, gemischten Rabatten und die berühmten Wackelhecken (wibbly wobbly).

Es gibt zwei schöne Gartenpavillons, eine Orangerie, ein Eishaus, ummauerte Gärten und natürlich eine Teestube des National Trust.

Der Landschaftspark drumherum eignet sich hervorragend zum Spazierengehen und Picknicken. Markierte Wanderwege führen rund um das weitere Anwesen, zu dem auch der St. Michael's Hill gehört.

Das Montacute House hat natürlich auch schon in mehreren Filmen und Fernsehproduktionen mitgewirkt, darunter in der 1995er Version von Jane Austens „Sense and Sensibility“, im Film „The Libertine“ von 2004 und in der BBC-Adaption von „Wolf Hall“.

Wir waren wirklich zu tiefst beeindruckt und begeistert und haben diesen Notfall-Tag keine Sekunde bereut.

Den Nachmittag verbringen wir wieder mit Packen, denn es steht der Wechsel nach Cornwall an.

Unsere langohrigen Nachbarn beobachten unser Tun äußerst aufmerksam.

Good Night!

Angie, Micha und Mister Bunnybear (Hasenbär)