#going through and cleaning clips of older matches and found this one

[ink--theory]

i'm just tryna do my job man

[peachiecure]

Character introduction: Timpani

~Basic info~

Name: Lady Timpani

Age: ?

Birthday: ?

Hair color: White

Eye color: Green

Timpani, previously known as the Pixl Tippi, is the human who fell in love with Blumiere. She is a major side character in Project: SFA.

After the events of SPM, it is said that the two had found their ‘paradise’… but it appears that fate had more planned for them both. Now, when they realized they’ve been in another version of the hero’s world, she explores with curiosity and bright eyes. Outgoing and cheerful, but still with her reserved nature, she watches over the new young princess of the Mushroom Kingdom as a way to thank Mario for what he has done for her. Though she knows this Mario isn’t the one who helped her, she feels that deep down he would still appreciate the gesture. She seems to possess the ability of being able to change into her Pixl form even after the events of SPM.

She lives together with Blumiere in a small cottage. She used to do a lot of the housework at first until her beloved seemed to have taken over a lot of the duties. With him doing that, it has allowed her to explore the world they now reside in. She enjoys seeing how colorful everything is, thinking of spots to bring her Blumie to when he’s more open to going out again… Sometimes, she brings back a few mementos to decorate their home with, telling her husband how her travels went.

~Outfits/Appearances~

Timpani’s appearance has changed back to her human self since the events of SPM… though with a few exceptions. Blumiere mentions in the beginning how her once light brown hair that he remembers long ago seemed to have turned white, and her outfit was now a gorgeous white dress with rainbow accents and a matching butterfly hair clip, reminiscent of her Pixl form. She also had another more casual outfit that is similar to the outfit she used to wear when she first met Blumiere all those years ago.

~Power and abilities~

Even though Timpani is a human again, she seems to still retain the ability to change back into her Pixl form, being able to fully change back or simply putting her wings out like a fairy. She also appears to retain all her abundance of information and ability to see invisible objects… though it is currently useless because she hasn’t really ran into a situation when that was needed. Her knowledge, though expansive, also doesn’t seem to cover everything in the current world she’s in. When Timpani goes out, she takes the time to learn all the new details around her.

~Relationships~

Blumiere: “Being finally together with Blumiere after all we’ve been through… it’s a dream come true! Seeing him being the best person he can be, helping me out… developing hobbies for himself now with nothing stopping him… nothing brings more joy to me than seeing him genuinely enjoying life and being happy. But after discovering that this world is one where other version of Mario and the others reside… there’s been a shift in his behavior… he seems more jittery and jumpy… he often wakes up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily… and he’s been aggressively cleaning around the house. I’m worried for him… but he doesn’t seem to want to talk to me about it. I will question him soon, I cannot be left in the dark about what’s worrying him… he shouldn’t suffer alone.”

Sweetheart: “Sweetheart is such a wonderful child! I visit her ever so often, ever since she was a baby… seeing her grow over the years has really been an experience like no other. Now that she’s older, she’s seems to really enjoy my visits… she often plays little games of tea parties with her toys and me… of course, I’ve never really shown my human form to her, only my Pixl form… she calls me Ms. Butterfly, hehe… how cute. Though I guess Mrs. Butterfly would be more accurate, but I’ll correct her when the time comes. She appears to view me like I’m her guardian angel… I guess that does suit my role to her quite nicely….”

Mario: “Mario… to see you once again, being the hero that you are… I’m glad to see that you’re universally such a good man, no matter what world it is. From your heroic deeds, your kindness is infectious and spreads across the land… I’m so glad I was able to travel alongside another version of you all those years ago… and for all that was done, you have my thanks… when watching over your daughter, I’ll make sure no one will ever harm her…”

Peach: “Over these years, I’ve been able to see Peach trying her best in raising her daughter. The princess is very strong willed, but I can see that deep down she struggles on knowing if what she is doing is the best for Sweetheart… And as of lately, she’s busy preparing for her coronation… even if she doesn’t know, I’ll make sure that Sweetheart knows she’s loved and is cared for by her loved ones.”

Flame & Aqua: “Sweetheart has these two interesting prince friends by the names of Flame and Aqua. Flame is a very cheerful boy, but has a bit of odd behavior around Sweetheart. I think he just wants to impress her, but he does everything she says without hesitation… it does concern me a bit. Aqua is… a certainly self centered boy. The way he makes sure all attention on him, having people praise him… I worry that perhaps his home life isn’t the greatest… I sure hope that isn’t the case.”

Larissa: “Seeing a new face around as if recently has gotten me very excited. I hear the princes say that she’s a relative of Mario’s, but I don’t think so. Perhaps an apprentice is more accurate term for her… she possesses an ability to transform into a ‘magical girl’… it’s quite a special power to have. I’m sure along with Mario’s guidance, she will become a great hero…”

Others: “Why, there’s so many colorful people here! Luigi and Bowser are still here, always nice to see some familiar faces… Luigi has a little ghost puppy! How cute… I’m glad to see that Mario and him still have such a strong brotherly bond… and Bowser, it’s so interesting to see him with his children!… he has quite a lot of them… from his own son to his adoptive children, I’m sure it’s very lively in his castle. There’s also a lot of faces I’ve never seen before, like Daisy, Rosalina, Toadsworth… why, the list goes on! Perhaps being in such an exciting world makes me want to learn more about everything…”

~Voice Claims~

Timpani’s voice claims are Lea from Dragalia Lost for JP and Gunnthrá from Fire Emblem Heroes for EN.

That’s it for Timpani’s dedicated intro. Next will be determined~

[meatmechapilot]

Rivaereri Spring 2024 - Day 6: Crime AU

Bonnie and Clyde

“Hands up in the air!” the- masked man shouted as he unloaded a clip into the ceiling of the bank lobby.

Screams rang out as bank patrons scrambled to look for cover all over the place, most ended up huddled against the wall. The bank teller was frozen in fear as the masked man got closer to the counter. She saw that there is an accomplice that is now going around collecting valuables from the bank patrons. They are both armed and the bank teller saw wallets, watches, jewelry and other valuables going into a bag.

“Hand them over,” the first man, who is now right up at the counter and aiming the gun straight at the poor, terrified employee. She saw now that the man with the gun isn’t really that tall, but he has an imposing aura that makes him terrifying all the same. She scrambled to comply with the demands by emptying the bank vault and laying stacks of money on the counter. The gunman’s accomplice is now also at the counter and is scooping the money into his bag with the other valuables.

The two criminals worked perfectly in sync and cleaned out the bank in no time. For a parting gift, the gunman reached into his pocket and pulled out a gas canister and unleashed its contents into the bank. Then they turned heel and left the bank full of people choking and gagging from the noxious gas.

Finally, when they were outside, they hopped into their getaway car and floored it, getting out of the crime scene in record time.

===

On the outskirts of the city, inside the criminals' lair, the TV is on with breaking news about the latest high profile bank robbery.

“Hey brat! Turn that infernal TV down!” The older of the two criminals groused, while sorting out the loot from their previous activity.

“Aw, Levi, you don’t want to see our body count?” The younger criminal answered, his voice a little too happy.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Eren?” Levi said, “the gas is way too easy and takes the fun out of killing. It’s much more satisfying to kill people with your bare hands, seeing the life leaving their eyes is a special kind of experience that no poison gas will come close to.”

Eren heard this spiel from Levi countless times, but since he values efficiency, he never really paid much attention. Levi was a serial killer before becoming a bank robber, so Eren supposed that he knew what he was talking about. “I wonder how much our bounty is now.” Eren flipped through the channel until he found the relevant one that gave him the information. “Thirty million dollars for the both of us! It’s increased by five million since the last time!” Eren exclaimed excitedly. He had a goal of bringing their bounty up to one hundred million. “Oh man, how come you are twenty million and I’m only ten million?” He pouted when he saw the individual bounties.

“Because I was a notorious serial killer with a ten million bounty before I even met you.” Levi said impatiently. “And don’t forget, Kenny Ackerman was at fifty million when he died, us two combined aren't even close to him yet.”

Kenny Ackerman was a legend among the criminal underworld and Eren never failed to be star struck when his name came up. In fact, Levi met Eren when the latter was bragging about surpassing Kenny as the most notorious criminal ever, and intervened before he got jumped by a bunch of hardened criminals. Levi then offered to take Eren under his wing, teaching him all there is to know about committing crimes.

Of course, Levi had ulterior motives in saving Eren. The brat was gorgeous with long legs and tanned skin and the most vivid greens eyes Levi had ever seen. He was an exact match for Levi’s type. The best thing about Eren that Levi discovered was he was extremely groomable, and it took less than a year for Levi to train him to his exacting standards for pretty much everything from housework to cooking to being the perfect whore in bed.

Speaking of bed, Eren came over with a perfectly brewed pot of tea and some tea cakes he made himself, a perfect pre bedtime snack. Levi was nowhere near ready to sleep, he’s always a bit heated after one of their heists and Eren understands him perfectly. Neither of them will get much sleep tonight.

The criminal duo ate their snacks in record time and made a beeline for bed, and not a wink of sleep was to be had until dawn.

[love-all-tmnt-equally]

Please ignore the colors on most of the main picture. Also ignore how bad those stripes look on her bicep. I originally forgot them.

The shell is bad but I like the plastron, I like the markings but not the shade of green I chose. The gray shell on the side is the final color design as well as the shell pattern. The little angry Jen in the corner is final design for when she first starts living with the guys.

She starts wearing the bottom half of the Hamato ninja clothes the boys wore for the end of season 1. But only for a little while. She eventually will change the wraps and sash out for a dark gray. She gets the yellow mask from April (it’s an old silk scarfs she grew out of) and bonds more with Her, Cassandra, and Casey Jr at first.

Yes I ascribe to her being Big Mamas assistant. This would be after she stops working for Big Mama but before she starts clipping her nails and using Tekkō-kagi.

She meets the boys after escaping Big Mama, who decided to put her assistant to better use. She had trouble finding warriors for her Battle Nexus after the invasion after all. So, well, needs must and all that.

Jennika tries to feel honored to be Big Mama’s new Champion but eventually realizes she won’t be getting her old position back. Big Mama has already found a new assistant.

She ends up turning to stealing from places on the surface. This is how she ends up meeting the boys. They don’t catch her because they are too surprised to see another mutant turtle. They ask Splinter but he doesn’t remember seeing any others in the lab, so they ask Draxum. He’s surprised to know any of the others survived the lab collapse.

He tells the boys that there was actually 2 others. He didn’t know if they were male or female though. You couldn’t really tell on turtles that young after all. They were a bit older, since they were acquired first, then Raphael, then Leonardo and Donatello were a two for one deal, and then Michelangelo. He does remember one of them being another red-eared slider.

They go looking for her, find her, and she begrudgingly gos with them. For the free food and bed, of corse. Not because she’s not used to being alone, no, not at all.

She doesn’t tell them she was Big Mama’s assistant at first. She doesn’t use her claw caps (the gold claws). She doesn’t want to be turned away when they seem so willing to feed and shelter her. She’s going to get all she can out of these way too trusting idiots before she tries to skip town to the next Yokai settlement. (Yeah right)

She’ll obviously go through a character arc where she begins to see the boys as her little brothers and starts seeing Splinter as her dad. She comes clean about being Big Mama’s assistant, and how she knew of them but didn’t really put it together that they were like her.

Big Mama had always told her she was just a half-Kappa and so didn’t have the same drawbacks as a full Kappa. But now she sees that was a lie to keep her under control. Big Mama was never really a parent but Jen does feel like she still owes her for keeping her alive for so long.

The boys and Draxum of all people, help her see that she doesn’t really own Big Mama. She was basically property to her, more like a pet than a person. She decides to confront Big Mama, about how she came to be with her, and maybe find out what happened to their other missing sibling.

Draxum, Splinter, and the boys go with her to get answers. They enlist Momo the Kitsune Priest(ess) to trap Big Mama in a deal that makes it so she can not Lie. In exchange, the Turtles (not including Jen) will have an exhibition match showing off their mystic powers and drumming up business for the Battle Nexus. (Jenny hasn’t unlocked her Hamato Ninpo yet)

A bunch of stuff happens, they find out that Big Mama’s goons weren’t the only ones to go rooting through Draxums downed lab. She tells them she’s heard of a turtle apprentice at an apothecary in Witch Town. Run by a sweet old Panda lady. She knows the Old Panda’s son was seen digging for survivors at the Lab, there to genuinely help anyone trapped.

Thus ending what I’m calling the “Sibling Adrift” arcs 1 & 2.

Did NOT mean for this to get so long. Next up! Venus/Mei.

[ginwhitlock]

summary: human!JASPER/ human!BELLA. Bella is called to deliver day supplies to a very tired and mostly lost 1st Regiment Calvary, headed by no other than Major Jasper Whitlock. What will the two do once left alone to go over maps of the Tennessee hills?

fic type: oneshot, SMUT 18+

warnings: is set in the civil war, which means Jasper is a soldier in the confederacy literally only because he’s from Texas I promise, it would’ve been weird to make him union and apart of the Texas Calvary as that wasnt a union regiment, I do not support the confederacy or any of its beliefs, its just part of his backstory and this fic is centered directly in his human life (the confederacy itself is not mentioned in detail, it is just alluded to the fact). This is a smut fic but not hardcore in anyway so be warned. Oh also I made Bella and Emmett siblings. Of course. 

She almost broke his nose kissing him.

She almost shattered bone and cartilage clicking their teeth together, enamel scraping enamel.

She almost caved in the center of his face so she could lick the insides of his molars, separate his jaws to find the pit of his throat, dangle her self righteousness by his uvula.

And to think she almost didn’t go out that morning.

Isabella Marie was the kind of pretty you didn’t see right away. The layers of fine muscle and fragile skin hiding the richness of her blood-red cheeks, crisp even in the horrible heat of August. And with that heat came hot headed Calvary men with unlined coat pockets and a hunger for pretty little girls.

She met Major Whitlock three miles outside of town, the local preacher sending her out to their camp with as many baskets as her daddy’s two mules could hold on their hips. She was flushed, the slot of her breastbone slick with afternoon sweat— her riding boots did nothing but slosh around with her pale feet inside, leather no match for Tennessee mountain hidin weather.

Maybe she should’ve dropped ice down her shift. Maybe she should’ve played dead and waited for God to put her on her ass.

The thin brunette was graced with the presence of an even skinner red head the moment Stubborn Ass’s (as she affectionally called her steed in private) hooves entered the temporary camp. The mans hair fell limply in front of his eyes which were slightly sunken, the blue of his irises molting into a starved shade of dust. His lips were worse. Once pink and slightly plump, now skinny and cracked with the less than dusty air.

“Is this the 1st Regiment Calvary? From Texas?” Her voice was strained and feverish, salt dripping off her Cupid’s bow.

The man nodded and offered a hand, “Names Sargent Henry Arquette. Nice to see you Miss, the boys haven’t been able to get any supplies up here for days,” Bella grasped his hand tightly, afraid her unskilled balance would come into play, and forced her weight down to the ground ungracefully, “you’re the sheriffs daughter, right miss?” His smile seemed correct handing off his skinny face, his teeth crooked and off centered, but sweet. She quirked her lip in return.

“Yes Sargent, I seem to be your supply wagon today. There’s more back in town but I was told you wouldn’t be in for a day or so.” Flushed and overdressed, that’s how she felt. Every second.

Henry took in the view of the well fed half breeds and gestured off handedly, something she would come to learn was an action he didn’t even notice he performed. “Day. Days. Who knows until we ration it. These trails are less trails and more raccoon paths. I’m just waiting to see why the hell we’ve been sent so far east to begin with.” He had no recognition what was proper to say in front of the young lady at his side, the year had been sucked dry of any feminine… life, to say lightly. A piece of his brain nudged him for speaking so plainly, but Bella never once looked offended and twitched her head in both sympathy and understanding. She had been raised in these hills. She knew their damnation like the back of her hand. Maybe even the back of her skull.

“I’ve heard about raids up in McMinnville. Bases and such lining up and down the mountain. My brother’s part of the 16th Regiment Calvary up there actually, you know. Things are heating up in our little slice of the world.” The little thing spoke like a sparrow, her nose pointed and soft, the bottom of her front teeth pillowing into her bottom lip. At the age of seventeen she seemed somehow both grounded and unsure.

The south was ripping itself apart. And she— and the Sargent, knew it.

Bella could see the redhead start to comment on her brothers hand me down gossip when a giant of a man— boy? Man? Definitely man, by the looks of his muscled shoulders and high jaw, the darkened cast shifting just under the skin of his cheeks, the low dip of a scar just below his brow— a brow which furrowed, twisted, and arched back up into his tanned forehead when he noticed the mules waiting restlessly, tails swinging behind a girl in a kinder man's idea of a dress and interrupted the lower soldiers train of thought.

“You must be Miss Isabella McCarty. I spoke to your father when we arrived last night.” Clipped and forward were his words, his hand outstretched in front of him, decorated in mis-matched freckles and calluses she could feel pressing into the column of her throat as she placed her small palm in his. “Major Jasper Whitlock, at your assistance.”

No smile graced his face but by God she would witness his lips stretch over his teeth if it was the last thing she ever did.

Still with her hand in his she whispered “You can call me Bella. Or Bella Marie. Or Isabella Marie oh or my mother calls me Belle or sometimes when my father is upset with me he calls me Marie McCarty like my grandmother used to and um..” her tongue had to have swelled to the size of a watermelon in the three seconds it took to look him in the eyes— the swamp green eyes in fact. Eyes the color of duckweed and marigold stems and whatever leaves would stick to the blackberries in the spring.

He laughed. And it sounded like a white flag waving in her insides. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Maybe the preacher was a righteous man after all.

“I like Isabella Marie. Miss Isabella Marie.” Like rain drops on a tin ceiling.

The Arquette boy looked between the two before edging towards the black mules “Any orders where to put these, Major?” Skinny lips. Skinny spine.

Jasper had finally looked up from the strawberry cheeked girl in front of him, released their hands, and knocked his head backwards, towards the other soldiers checking tents and cleaning their own horses.

“Just take em back to the storage tent. Not like it’ll be competing for space.” The Major looked back at his men “Calhoun, Jennings, help Arquette move these rations will you? Make yourself useful for once.” His voice didn’t have to boom and condense like a rung out air horn, the cool of his vocal cords carried and personally plucked the not yet men from their activities and dragged them towards the group of three. Like some sort of magic act.

Bella was far from resigned. “So Major Whitlock, what would you like me to do?” Hopeful eyes, always searching to please. Or to piss off— as Emmett always scorned.

An upturn of lips flashed through Jaspers face and he looked to the sky for a mere moment “Mind helping me sort out some of my maps back in camp? My backwoods knowledge ain’t as sharp as my Houston kind and you seem like an expert in this area, getting yourself up to us all alone.” Bella’s feet started to move on instinct towards the felted wool tent covering a hundred or so feet behind the large man, but his hand stopped her at the shoulder, “And, if you don’t mind, would you be my guide back to town this evening? I’ve got to scout the path for the boys to pull through by the end of this week.”

She should’ve thought longer about it, linger over his words, the way his tongue flicked over his canines and brushed noticeably at the edge of his front teeth. But she didn’t. Not now. Not when the time it would’ve taken could pick at the carefully constructed wall built specifically for boys with serpent tongues. And lion hands. And bear teeth and… he still waiting for her response.

A shake to her head “Of course Major. If you’ll help me bring the mules back home, you’d be more help to me than I think I’d ever be to you.”

He could taste her self doubt. And he didn’t like it.

A jut of his brow led them through the ragged campsite, broken down cinders coating the bottom of her unusually worn boots, the lace of her dress clashing horribly with the scent of charred flesh and resting wounds. If only she knew a doctor. If only the town still had one.

His tent was one of the stronger ones, every inch placated with the spine of a book or a map binder or a drape of letters. He needed a desk and a real bed and maybe someone to make sure he stayed warm during the mountain nights.

Jaspers hands found a tiny stack of drawn maps and laid them over his now folded lap on the ground. Bella swiftly found her place at his bended knee and ran a finger over the torn edge. “These look older than my father. It doesn’t even mark the trail you follow to town.” The squishy flesh of her thumb traced an invisible oil line through the mountain and deposited itself in a town with seemingly no name, according to the parchment. “That’s home. If you’re following these maps I don’t quite understand how you ever got here.” Her eyes were full, engorged on road markers and faded city names.

Jasper softly nodded, their heads just inches from each other as she leaned in to scour the map. He had barely gotten to the camp they were in, his right hand Henry doing nearly all of the sight work. He’d be a hell of a tracker if he was a bloodhound. The blond almost chucked at the thought of Henry with big floppy mutt ears, yelping at the pretty girl almost in Jasper’s lap.

Her hair was like a chocolate waterfall. The good chocolate that mama got sent to her from her sister up north, the kind that was broken off continuously, piece after piece fed to him and his sisters until nothing was left.

Part of him wanted to see if she tasted as sweet.

He’d blame it on how damn long it’s been since he’s smelled anything other than soured sores and gunpowder. Even if Miss Isabella Marie smelled good enough to eat. Good enough to take like a man starved. And God— Jasper hungered like no other.

“There’s a river through the valley here, if you can find yourself through the woods.” Bella had found a piece of graphite and drawn in the harsh line of a hidden waterway just a mile or so from camp. She looked up at him as she spoke, her eyes warmly whiskey colored through her lashes.

His mouth clenched. “How old are you Miss McCarty?”

She blinked rapidly, like coming out of a daze. “Seventeen.”

Her hand dropped the instrument to the paper and draw up to his knee, the covered bone sharp under her knuckles.

“Do you have a boy at home waiting for you, Miss McCarty?” Hot air blew from his mouth to hers like a heatwave. Like a curse.

Bella’s lips formed a small “No” as she slid her small hand up the Major’s thigh, her singular ring gliding like margarine inch my inch as the seconds ticked by, each breath marking the two closer.

“Do you have a wife, Major?” Only whisper escaped her rosebud mouth, his face turning downwards, noses only separated by spirit.

“I was too busy waiting for you, it seems, Miss Bella.”

Her heart thumped her chest hard enough to make her ears ring.

Bella’s fist jumped from Jasper’s thigh to his army issued button up and crushed his chest to her own, her lips finding purchase slotted against his, the force clinking their front teeth together without care. His hands were gripping the roots of her soft waves, their skulls as close as their skin would let them. She wanted more, more, the heat suffocating the tent from more than the August sun. Her thin fingers slipped easily through the button gaps as his tongue invaded the privacy of her mouth. A horrible demented part of her brain screamed ‘Take, Take, Take. Mark me down and climb into the spaces that were meant to fit just us.’ Her brother had always called her too much of a dreamer. Too much of a poet and a believer and an artist. But God. This man was in her hands and she felt like a masterpiece.

A man she hardly knew.

But somehow, the scrape of his knuckles against her soon to be bare thighs felt like they had known each other at birth. Like Texas and Tennessee were just minutes from each other. As if they were the only bodies in the whole entire war.

Jasper’s hands were of no gentleman’s when he unfastened the ribbons holding her skirt to her waist, the under coat used for riding coming off like silk in his calloused palms. She was moaning into his mouth, the world outside the tent becoming buttery soft and not to be worried about. All there was was Jasper and his fucking mouth moving to her neck and his teeth toying around her jaw.

“Jesus, Major” He chuckled at her swear and rid her completely of every layer but her shift and the wool of her stockings, the small corset she wore becoming just cannon fodder for the mouth and hands of the Cavalryman.

“I love when you call me that, darlin. Wanna hear you scream it.” She had barely gotten open a single button on his shirt before he brushed the maps out of the way and flipped her on her back underneath him, the sway of his curled mane teasing her, the golden wheat just barely out of the reach of her teeth or fingers.

She wanted to use it like reins.

She’d especially like calling him by his rank then.

“You know I—“ her breathing caught the better of her as he lifted her by her thighs and dragged her ass to his kneeled position, his fingers running up her stockings with particular care, each inch another layer to her growing wetness. She didn’t let go of her breath until he had reached the skirting of her underdress, the white cotton nearly see through with the sweat sticking to every inch of her skin. His watery eyes devoured the sight with an indescribable hunger. Like a wolf hanging over a bleeding lamb.

What a happy sacrifice she’d be.

“Are you a good little southern girl, Isabella?” His fingertips brushed just under the fabric, his intent not easily hidden behind his hardened brow.

She came out trembling, she couldn’t tell over excitement or fear. “Yes Sir. No ones ever…” even her mother would blush saying those words.

Jasper finally smiled, sharp and soul quenching, like a mist of rain before a hurricane.

“I’m going to ruin you.” He couldn’t tell her about the wedding playing out behind his eyes or the static electric resonance he felt thinking about how another man would never get to lay a hand on his pretty Isabella.

His fingers slipped over her cunt, the soft curling hair tickling his fingertips. The moist warmth wet his fingers before skirting over her lips. He almost groaned. She was soaked. He had to see what his little Belle looked like in the light.

Jasper’s eyes met Bella’s giant blown out doe ones, her elbows holding up her upper body, trying to anticipate his very next move.

If they were playing chess, he was going to win. And she had always been a sore loser.

The skirt of the shift creased with the heat of his palms against her stomach, the slightly cooler air blowing across her pussy, making Bella suck in a breath through her teeth, her bottom lip becoming stuck under them with practiced strength.

Her knees knocked against Jasper’s hips as he watched the pink of her pussy clench around nothing, her wet little hole puckering and buzzing with the want of something under his trousers. He licked his lips as he had a gathered two fingers at her slit and traced upwards, her breath coming out in pants as he reached her clit, the engorged nub nearly ringing in her ears. A small circle over it make her moan from her throat. Bella had never felt someone else’s touch, she had never realized how much she wanted for it. She never knew how much she wanted Jasper to touch her.

The solider took his time as he brought the pads of his fingers back down to her achingly small hole and gathered some of her slick, the smell of sweat and Bella nearly driving him half insane as he brought a finger to his mouth, his tongue licking her clean off.

If Bella could speak to God directly and have him reply, she’d thank him for the creation of Major Jasper Whitlock.

But all she could do was cry out for more. And more he silently promised to give.

Maybe too much.

He had to stretch her out, the head of his cock wouldn’t fit into her without an orgasm in her, not now at least. Jasper slowly brought his hand back a third time and entered a single finger, her hips nearly bucking against his wrist as he slowly sat himself. A bead of sweat ran off his brow. A second finger partnered with the first after a few pumps, in and out, in and out. The near wetness coated on those fingers alone could bring him to release in his cot. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Isabella I have to—“ “Please Major I need—“

The two looked at each other, their mouths in sync as they sat, their souls intertwining and bundling up into a bramble of wonderful thorns, coy smiles gracing both their faces.

Bella sat up slowly and draped a hand over Jasper’s belt buckle. “May I, Major?” The shorty craftsmanship of the iron buckle became putty under her unskilled hands as he nodded, now without words for the angel in front of him. The belt was off before the two noticed and Jasper brought his issued pants down to his ankles and off with his shoes to rest with the scraps of her dress he had taken off so quickly.

“Do you… always go bare?” The squeak of Bella’s voice made Jasper snicker like the teenage boy he technically still was, the nineteen year old clicking his teeth together and grinning. “Miss McCarty, sometimes underpinnings only get in the way of an army man.” A deep blush settled into her cheeks as she slapped at his chest, his shirt hanging open just slightly as he pushed her back to the floor.

“Shush, Whitlock.”

His smile turned feral as the head of his cock graced the hood of her clit, bouncing just slightly with the breath of their bodies. Jasper marked in his head that this should be a sight to see on their wedding night, not their first night together, but by God was it a beautiful one.

He looked at her as he grasped one of her hips with his right hand and the base of his cock with his left. “Breathe, Belle. Breathe with me, alright?” She nodded her head slowly and brought her own hand to the tent floor, grasping tightly.

Jasper’s hand guided the head carefully over her lips and to her quivering entrance. One buck and he’d tear her to badly to bear. No matter how long it had been… he’d never rush with his Isabella. Not now.

He slowly pushed in, the stretch a burn like no other, Bella’s voice turning from a quick steal of breath to a long sigh, the air being pushed out as he took her in. Inch by inch she devoured him, the heat marking his cock in emotional third degree burns. The sky burned brighter, the colors in his eyes turned clearer. Her hips and her fragile skin and the slip of her cunt was the end of the world and the birth of something entirely new. She grasped his shoulders as he mumbled a slew of impressive praise as he allowed her to adjust and seated himself at the very base of her cervix. Her throat screamed out to him as her nails dug in his back.

A wonderful, wonderful burn.

Bella slipped a hand to Jasper’s hip to push him back, to set any and all pace so that the fire would keep burning. He quickly slotted his face in the clench of her neck and began to move his pale hips, beginning to push and pull within her very tight walls.

The tent was full of grunts and moans and breathy screams he was sure the entirely camp heard. But Jesus Christ he didn’t give a single damn at that very moment. His boys knew to stay out of his shit and they be proven that every second until his angel’s orgasm.

God he wanted to fill her up. Wanted to take all of his cum and bury it deep where the lord intended, leave her leaking and exhausted and full of everything he had. He’d empty his balls in her again and again if it meant the Tennessee flower in his arms would keep him forever.

He wanted her forever.

“Major, deeper, please God please yes YES.” Jasper’s hips were snapping at a rapid pace, his balls slapping against her ass as he drove her into the hard ground. He could feel her tighten up the way he felt the air change around him before a fight broke out, the way a horse steps on a snake without jumping. There was an electricity in the air and the moment Bella tore his head out from her and pulled him into a jaw crushing kiss, he was crumbling at her feet, her pussy clenching and spasming around his cock with enough force to take out a grizzly bear.

She locked her legs around his hips as he all but collapsed into her, his hair sweaty between her fingers as she combed through it as his dick twitched it’s last time inside her belly. Jasper’s own hands found repentance under her ass and stayed there, too tired to remove himself from her heat.

“That ride home is gonna be sweaty, isn’t it?” Her whisper made her snort and bite into the side of her neck as she giggled.

[moonloredraws]

House of Blood

A story about an overworked and stressed out individual who goes to a vampire brothel for some consensual hypnosis to start off her holiday off work.

M Vampire x F Human (NSFW, tw hypnosis , tw vampire biting ) 4277 words

---  Life had been a cycle of stress and problems, and things had been spiralling for you recently. Your job had become too much to handle, your co-workers had once again proven to be unreliable and your boss had been more unreasonable than usual. Things had been hectic.

Your holiday had come up, fortunately. A couple of weeks away from the incessant stream of issues was a welcome reprieve. You had planned on enjoying yourself, treating yourself to some new clothes and other goodies. 

You had even decided to go to the local smut bookshop. The Moonlore Bookstore had always piqued your interest, but you'd never really had any reason to go in. The interior was surprising, the inside seemed much older than the modern facade of the building led you to believe, but the atmosphere was cozy and welcoming. The front was a cafe, with the back half of the space hiding the books behind some discreet dividers. It had an unusual vibe for a place to buy erotic books.

The thing that most had stood out was an extensive board of flyers, business cards and other advertisements of all kinds.

This was clearly a busy place that many supernatural beings frequented, but that made sense, given how the owner seemed of elven descent and her husband was a werewolf. Much of the ads were specific services for the variety of creatures that shared the human world, though much of the ads were for different places that you hadn't even heard of. Why would there be adverts for services in Amsterdam, Chicago, London and some other notable cities all in one place? It boggled your mind.

However, as you scanned the board with curiosity, you noticed a stack of discreet ash grey cards with a bright red embellished pair of lips. They stood out, and you looked a bit closer.

“Are you stressed? Want to have your worried sucked away?Come to the House of Blood for a fresh reset.”

It was in your area, too. 

  You had never heard of such a place before. You unpinned one of the cards, and took a closer look. It seemed like some kind of establishment run by vampires. Brothels run by the supernatural community was nothing new, but you had never frequented something like it before. Your gut twisted with excitement. You had never really cared for such things, but something about having your stress relieved fast and possibly having fun on the side tickled your fancy.

With your new treats and purchases, you went home, and did some more digging on the House of Blood. It had a discreet website, and it was definitely a brothel of some kind, as you had suspected. It seemed legit, had a small gallery of some incredibly well dressed vampires, some information on the workers and the owner, and you gave a sigh of relief at it being legit.

It did have a appointment form, but encouraged people to go there in person to have a chat about the different options they offered and what would be most appropriate for the client. 

  So you got yourself hyped up. This was all new and exciting, and you waited until an hour after night-fall. Following your phone's GPS, you made your way to the place. It was in an alley off a very busy street, which may have rung some alarms bells if it weren't for the beautiful state of the alley. It was clean, no dumpsters, bright neon signs lighting everything up and with a clear big sign next to the door. You let out a breath you didn't know you had been keeping, and slouched your shoulders as you walked to the door nervously. The beautiful ashen door had the same red lips on it as the card, and you nervously turned the handle, and entered into a small hallway that had some stairs leading upstairs.

Climbing the red carpet covered stairs, you looked around at the rich reds and ashen colours of the interior. Clearly the same person had designed this place and the vampire run nightclub in the area. Or maybe the owner was the same. Perhaps, though, they simply kept up the same “vampire aesthetic” for the other people around. You weren't sure. However, as you got to the top, you came to a brightly lit waiting room. There was a desk of bright cherry red plastic, and behind it was a woman, her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, with lipstick to match the desk and a slouchy cream coloured sweater. 

  “Welcome to the House of Blood! I don't believe I've seen you here before?” said the woman, her cheeks lifting as she smiled. You nodded as you walked closer, still a bit nervous.

“It's my first time here, yes,” your voice wavered, as you came up to the desk. “ Well, welcome! I'm Amandine, but you can just call me Mandy. Since you're new, I need you to fill out a simple questionnaire, and a little form. I'll help you through everything, so don't worry about it if something is unfamiliar!”

Her cheerful and helpful disposition helped put you at ease, and you swiftly filled in some details, the medical history part took you by surprise, but it made sense. Vampires drink blood, after all. 

  The 'little form' ended up being a pretty big list, actually. Most of it was kinks and things that you would be alright with in a sexual situation. What intrigued you was the box marked “hypnosis”. 

  “What does that involve?” you looked curiously over to Amandine. “Is that something like becoming puppeted...?”

Amandine shook her head, giving a slight chuckle. “No, when we 'hypnotise' people, it's more like we induce a state of intense tunnel vision. You'll feel things more intensely, and I haven't found an easier way to say this, but it just makes you very horny. We haven't found a better term, so we just use 'hypnotise'.” “Huh,” you hummed at it.

“Since you're looking at some stress relief, I do suggest that. It's very difficult to have your mind wandering while under the effects.” Amandine added helpfully. That sealed the deal. All in all you weren't really looking for a very extreme interaction, you just wanted to have some fun, but the added benefit of not having to worry about much seemed too good to pass up.

Amandine settled the paperwork, clipped it all together, and then pointed at one of the doors. 

  “You'll want to go to room 4. There are no locks, for client and worker safety, but rest assured, nobody except the right person will walk into your room,” she gave a playful wink as she stood up and walked to a different door in the lobby, directly behind the desk. 

  “There's a box for your clothes, and there's a fluffy robe, if you'd like to get into something more comfortable, waiting for you in the room.”

You nodded, butterflies tickling your stomach as you walked through the door, into a well decorated hallway, to a door with the number 4 on it. Cautiously, you opened it, and entered.

The interior was plush. There was a soft looking bed, and a couch, and a door to bathroom. Everything was some sort of red or dark grey tone. You found a small night stand, and a fluffy maroon robe. 

  You did as Amandine suggested, and stripped completely, shoving your clothes unceremoniously into the empty nightstand's drawer. The rest were filled with a pile of sex toys and condoms. Your cheeks flushed as you quickly put the robe on and went to sit down. 

  Your current situation began to dawn on you, and you restlessly played with your hands. Before you could get overwhelmed with doubt and stand up to put your clothes back on, you heard a knock on the door.

“Come in!” You squeaked. It was happening. No turning back now.

The door opened and a tall, pale skinned man slid in, a tray in his hands with two cups and a teapot. Your heart skipped a little as he flashed a fanged smile at you, dimples appearing on his cheeks.

“I'm Xavier, please to meet you!” He quickly set the tray down, and went to shut the door behind him. You nervously introduced yourself, noting how much your voice was shaking. 

  Xavier had a fluffy mop of wavy brown hair, and a slight 5 o'clock shadow painting his jaw. His eyes were a friendly brown, and if it hadn't been for his fangs, you could have sworn he was just some guy who didn't get outside much.

 He wore a lightly cream coloured shirt, an intricately patterned green and gold vest, and some brown dress pants. He seemed much too overdressed to be part of a brothel, he'd be a much more fitting sight in a themed host club. 

  “No need to be so nervous. You're here to have a good time, right?” Xavier said as he sat down on the couch, placing the tray between the two of you. “Mandy said you preferred chamomile, so that's what we have.”

“Can vampires even drink tea?” The question had left your lips involuntarily, and Xavier let out a chuckle.

“Eating and drinking depends on what kind of vampire you are. Most turned vampires have a hard time processing food and some drinks, but I'm a born vampire, I can deal with this all just fine.”

You let out a 'huh' at that, and then picked up one of the cups which Xavier had filled with tea.

“So, a little bird told me that you've been dealt a bad hand by life at the moment.” Xavier took a sip of his tea. 

  You nodded, and began to tentatively recount some of the more frustrating events. Soon, you let yourself get more relaxed, and your gestures become more intense as you vented your worries, and Xavier ended up being a very good listener. 

  The conversation eventually started to lose steam, so Xavier picked up. He started to talk about himself. He had an interest in very fine embroidering, and occasionally would make some clothes for himself. He showed off his vest at that point, beaming at his creation. 

  “So... how come you've ended up working here?” You asked. Someone so skilled at sewing ending up in a brothel instead of working as a designer seemed odd.

“I enjoy helping people like this, and I'm a bit of a social butterfly. I tried being a host once, but that didn't end up working so well. I have... a slightly voracious appetite.” He smiled apologetically. You inhaled sharply at that, and you felt your cheeks warming up, and you felt a jolt in the pit of your stomach.

“I'll follow your lead, whenever you want to move onto something else, we can do that.” Xavier chuckled. 

  You nodded, blushing, and your shoulders tensed up. Xavier regarded you with a warm gaze, and slowly moved the tray to the side and shuffled closer to you, gingerly putting a hand on your shoulder.

“You're a bit tense again. Would you want me to give your shoulders a little massage?” He purred.

The vibrations of his voice went straight to your loins, and you stiffly nodded, turning your back to him. He gently tugged at the collar of your robe.

“Loosen your robe a bit, I can reach a little better that way.” He pulled the robes a little looser around your neck, and then gently pressed his fingers into your shoulders. As it turned out, his skills also extended to massaging, and you slowly found yourself sinking towards him. 

  You sighed, and soon he removed his hands. 

  “Feeling any better?” Xavier smiled at you.

“That was amazing,” you said, and then sighed.

He leaned slightly closer, leaning his head on his hand and sitting in a more casual pose. “I can keep going... or we can move onto something different?”

You debated on it for a moment, before the ache in the pit of your stomach started to become a little more incessant. 

  “I think... something a little different might be nice...” you said, slowly, and something lit up in Xavier's eyes. 

  “Then... may I touch you, pet?” His voice had changed, something almost predatory came alive in him. You nodded, almost afraid, but something about being in the presence of this creature excited you.

He gently placed his hand on your knee, and then slowly slid up your thigh, giving it a little squeeze halfway up. His hand started to skirt along the edge of the fabric of the robe. 

  “I won't touch anywhere that is covered... so you lead.” He purred, keeping his hand on your thigh, rubbing languid circles with his thumb. You let out a little huff, and then bashfully began to untie the belt on the robe. As you slowly let the belt fall away, your robe opened slightly, and Xavier let out an approving sound, slowly trailing his finger higher up your thigh.Soon, his hand dragged up your partially exposed stomach, between the groove of your breasts, then lightly touching the line of your collarbone. 

  “Mmh... you already smell so good and we've barely even started. You must really want this, that, or you're just naturally a treat.” Xavier licked his lips. “If you want me to make you feel better just say the word.”

The slow drag of his fingertips across your skin and the mood of the room made you a little bit braver all of a sudden.

“What do you have in mind?”

Xavier let out a chuckle, and you let his hand travel around to tip your chin upwards. “I can make you feel a way you've never felt before.” 

  “Is that right?” you tested him, before shakily breathing out, “show me what you've got then.”

He grinned, and something changed.

In the split second that you had challenged him, your body suddenly got hot, your vision blurred and your brain suddenly felt trapped in a bubble.

“Look at me, pet,” Xavier whispered, holding the back of your head with one of his hands. “It's alright. Nothing bad will happen.”

Your head was spinning, the sensation was odd and uncomfortable, but soon enough you focused on the way that his other hand was petting your thigh. You focused on the way his eyes were staring at you, the way his lips moved, and before you had a chance to get used to this strange sensation of being partially stuck in your own head, your entire being became a ball of nerves.

You started to breathe heavily as the fabric of the robe began to feel constricting around you, and you started struggling out of the fabric. Your body didn't want to listen very well, and you couldn't managed to make the fabric slip off you.

Xavier hummed, looking at you.

“What's the matter, pet? Having some trouble taking your clothes off?” He was clearly enjoying this, but you found that you didn't mind his teasing. “Do you need me to help you?”

You tried to reply, but all that came out was a moan, so you weakly nodded your head.

In a swift motion, you found yourself pulled onto Xavier's lap, your front exposed to him, your legs spread obscenely. The new sensation of the fabric of his pants made you let out another soft moan, and he quickly pulled the robe from your shoulders. The way his hands felt on you was mind blowing, and you didn't hold back the pleased rumbling that came from your throat.

“You look comfortable.” His eyes scanned you up and down, and his hands began to move up your sides. Everything was so sensitive, his fingers were like fire licking at you. In the haze of this dark, dimly lit room, there was only Xavier. You couldn't think of anything else but his hands, his face, his beautiful full lips. Your stares didn't go unnoticed, and he smirked. 

  “It seems that someone wants something more, hmm?” his voice was a purr, quiet, meant only for your ears. Weakly, you managed another nod, and he pulled your hips a bit closer and pulled on your shoulders to make you lean over. His lips connected with yours, and you let out a lewd mewl, breathing out hard. His kisses started out softly, massaging your lips, clearly ignoring your needy attempts at making out with him. Kissing him, and feeling his hands running up and down your thighs, hips, ass, it made you feel on cloud nine. So much of his touch made you feel turned on, you'd honestly never felt anything like this.

You were momentarily pulled from your frustrations when Xavier ran his tongue over your lips. It sent a jolt down your spine, and you involuntarily shivered. You vaguely heard a chuckle through the murky horniness of your mind, and you let out a deep moan.

You weren't allowed to recover from this assault on your senses when Xavier put one of his hands behind your head and he deepened the kiss, darting his tongue through your lips and exploring your mouth. You had to close your eyes, and grabbed tightly on his shirt to avoid floating away, your brain being bombarded with too many sensations.

You lost track of time, you lost track of yourself, you couldn't tell where you ended, and where Xavier started. Everything that you felt in that moment was so unfocused, but the pleasure was beyond what you believed was possible.

Xavier pulled away, and you were ripped from your intense pleasure. You managed to make a frustrated noise, and Xavier gently stroked your jaw.

  “Come on, surely kissing isn't the reason you came here?” He gave you a curious look and you had a moment of clarity through the haze. He noticed the momentary sobriety, before letting one of his fingers gently rub against one of your nipples.

The sensation shot through your body and another moan ripped through you. “Thought so.”

You were quickly bundled into strong arms, and were laid out onto a soft surface. Xavier joined you on the bed, and moved to trap you between himself and the bed.

“Time for the main event, pet.” he breathed out, his eyes having grown even more intense than before. 

  Something about this well dressed, hungry vampire looming over you made you feel so desired, you wanted him to drink from you, to have a taste of you, to fuck you senseless.

It wasn't long before he dipped down and took your nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue over the sensitive bud. You writhed under him, and he had to grab your shoulders to keep you still. It was torturous, each flick of the tongue made you feel so good, but it wasn't enough.

That is, until he moved one of his hands to gently stroke at your folds.

You came instantly, and almost screamed, the feeling of that sudden action tipping you over the edge. 

  You felt Xavier chuckling against you, still licking at your nipple as he hovered his hand over your pussy.

“That was fast. Do it again,” he went right back to sucking on your breast, and you felt his hand come down on you again.

You didn't come instantly this time, but you weren't far off as the haziness of your mind and the overload of sensitivity had you hurtling towards your next orgasm. Xavier didn't let up though, and your body didn't put up any resistance as his fingers played around with your folds and clit, the little bundle of nerves almost on fire under the thorough touch of his fingers.

You were vaguely aware of him moving upwards, kissing a trail on your skin, before nuzzling your neck.

Xavier hummed in approval, and gave a quick lick over your neck. “You smell so good.... I want a taste.” His voice was quiet, skirting over your skin. “Can I?”

A noise came out from you, approving. You could barely concentrate on anything, and when Xavier's soft lips touched the base of your neck, his fingers still in you, your mind suddenly went blank.

For a while, your mind and consciousness was almost separated from your body, the only thing you were aware of was immense pleasure.

It lasted for so long. You couldn't tell how long you were in this state of pure bliss.

Slowly, you felt like you were coming back to yourself. 

  With a sigh, you blinked your eyes open, finding yourself cradled next to Xavier, wrapped in a blanket.

“Hey,” he said, sheepishly. “How are you feeling?”

You couldn't help the blush that crept on your face at the sight of his warm smile. Were his cheeks a bit red too? Something had changed in him. You couldn't pinpoint it, but he seemed more lively.

“I-I'm ok,” You mumbled into the blanket. “That was... amazing.”

“It's pretty cool, huh?” Xavier laughed, before smoothing back his hair and sitting up, his clothes still impeccable despite what had transpired. “Would you like me to get you some tea and cakes?”

You had requested for a caring service, but you hadn't quite expected to be tucked into bed and to get served tea and sweets after getting fucked thoroughly. You hadn't even fucked, really, but it certainly felt like you had been. Xavier left the room, giving you a warm smile as he exited the room. You were left in this cozy, luxurious room, alone. You tentatively sat up, feeling a bit wobbly, and you reached for the robe that had been set neatly on the bed. 

  You quickly robed yourself, and it wasn't long before Xavier returned with a new tray and sauntered over to the bed. “Here, we have tea, chamomile again, and some cakes. I wasn't sure which one you'd like, take your pick.” He set down the tray after sitting down, and gestured over to a selection of little slices. “You should definitely eat. I didn't drink much, but you need to make sure that you eat something to get your strength back.”

You reached for what looked like lemon drizzle cake, and took a bite from the slice. It was delicious.

You let out a throaty moan at the taste, and reached for the cup of tea. Xavier lifted up his own cup of tea, and took a sip.

“So, happy with the service?” He turned his head to look at you, smiling. 

  You smiled back at him, feeling your cheeks burn again, and nodded.

“That was... definitely unlike anything else I had ever experience.” You took a sip of your tea. “I'm more than happy.”

You shared that little moment together, silent save for the sound of tea being sipped and cake being eaten. You didn't mind, it was comfortable, and you had a chance to collect yourself. 

  “Would you like me to stay for a bit or are you ready to head home?” Xavier broke the silence, putting his cup down onto the tray with a clink. You sighed, and eventually put down your own cup.

“I think... that I'm ready to head home. Your company was lovely tonight and, well,” you avoided looking at him momentarily as an unprecedented wave of shyness overcame you. “I think... I would definitely like to visit again.”

Xavier smiled, and you felt your heart flutter for a moment as he leaned over and gave your hand a kiss.

“I do hope you come by again, you're delectable, pet.” He winked, before picking up the tray again and heading towards the door. “I'll be going now, I hope you have a safe trip back home and I hope to see you again, but remember, there's a mandatory 2 week wait between visits so you can recover.”

“Yes, I remember,” You nodded, and waved as he disappeared behind the door, shutting it with him.

You got up, cleaned yourself up, and dressed yourself. You left the room behind, and exited the hallway. 

  “Heyo, is that you done for tonight?” Amandine asked, smiling as you came out to the lobby.

“Yes... it was certainly an experience.” You said. You dug through your handbag for your wallet to pay up the fee, and soon you noticed how soft your body felt. “Relaxed? Xavier's a pro at what he does. If you want to make sure you get an appointment with him again, then please do phone up beforehand.” Amandine quickly shuffled some things behind the desk and brought up a small gift parcel, placing it on the counter.

“What's this?” you asked, quizically.

“All visitors get a little gift parcel. It's not much bit it's a few goodies and snacks to make sure you recover.” Amandine smiled, nudging the parcel over. “After all, there's a bit of a symbiotic relationship between us and our clients.”

You have an understanding nod and picked up the parcel, and bid your farewells.

On the way home, you felt calm, but there was a bit of a pep in your step, as you walked with confidence. That visit had definitely left a mark on you, and you made sure to write up a note on your calendar for exactly two weeks from then to set up a second visit to that handsome vampire.

[ggukkiedae]

❝𝕀𝕟 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕠𝕡❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ Episodes 3-4

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english. requests and feedback are highly appreciated!

⇢ script form (name: lines) are the interviews

EPISODE 3

she was shown tucked under her purple blanket still sleeping while the others were starting to wake up

while jin makes his way to the upper house’s kitchen, she slowly gets up and checks her phone

“11? already?”

the next cut you see is of her in lounge shorts and a big shirt instead of her pajama set waddling her way to yoongi and attaching herself to his side

“oppas,” she wrapped her arms around his waist, tucking herself under his arm, “how do you guys have so much energy right now”

“aigoo, our makdungie just woke up,” seokjin cooed while hoseok just squished her cheeks in an attempt to help her regain her senses

“wake yourself up, princess, then come help me with ingredients” “okay”

she helps yoongi with the vegetables, him making sure to take the onions away from her

she was giggling with hoseok at yoongi’s face when he was cutting up onions

hoseok had her in a back hug with his chin on her head while yoongi stirred the ingredients together. her job, despite being the best cook in bangtan, was adding the cheese

miya: i’m actually pretty good with meals, but if i don’t cook alone, the oppas usually make me do the minimum. something about it being dangerous?

the older members passed her off to jungkook as soon as he got there

aaaaand the two maknaes disappeared

a clip of them talking while walking towards everyone else played. their conversation was hushed, though, and the background music just played over it. the subtitles read “maknaes are quiet in the morning”

she headed over to the grass in front of the main house where she started doing stretches. she did basic stretches then went on to a few more advanced ones

namjoon saw her from a distance

“yoon-ah, are you okay over there?” “i’m okay!”

after her stretches she just ended up lying on the grass and scrolling through her phone

eventually she just plays music and puts her phone in a safe spot then entered the trampoline

she shook her head amusedly when she saw jungkook, taehyung, and hoseok jogging past her

she starts hopping around the trampoline to build up momentum and, next thing you know, she’s practicing different gymnastics tricks

you don’t see her for a while

she’s next shown in the main house sitting next to yoongi, excitedly bouncing in place while opening a box

“i can make makeup! oppa, look!”

the editors replayed the clip, emphasizing on how all four boys in the room turned to her

she excitedly took stuff out and started setting up while animatedly telling the boys about everything she could grab a hold of

yoongi was just nodding and humming in response every now and then while the other three did the same but while doing their own activities

until she eventually became way too focused to talk

around the time jungkook and taehyung are boxing each other, she turned to jimin

“oppa, sit still!”

and she places something on his lips with a grin. it was lip gloss with pink glitters

“ooooh it looks nice” jimin poked at his lips while checking his face in his phone

“i should sell these,” she laughed and closed the containers

then she heads off somewhere with the box holding all the cosmetics

the next clip of her is when it’s raining. she’s sitting on the roofed area of the deck on the boathouse with her guitar and a notebook. she’s just mindlessly playing the guitar while watching the rain

miya: there was something calming about watching the rain hit the water… i guess i just don’t see it too often nowadays. not much in the past few years, actually

she’s next seen when yoongi stops by to bring her with him over to come with him to get his recording equipment

“we’re making a theme song?” “looks like it.”

she just laughs and follows him after setting her guitar and notebook down in her room

she’s in giggles when namjoon’s recording “in the soop” and hoseok’s kinda just coddling her and laughing with her

she’s lying down on the floor while jungkook was building toys. hoseok comes in and tosses them both a pair of sweatpants and calls them for food. she could smell the food when she opened the door.

“pajeoooooooooon!”

she comes running to the tarp and shouting excitedly. the older members laugh fondly

you can see her and jungkook cheers makgeolli a few times on the side

she smiles at taehyung when they’re telling him he can flip the pajeon next “oppa fighting!”

the steam from the soup goes towards her face and she scrunches up her nose “it’s so humid wait”

she applauds when taehyung successfully flipped the pajeon and when jungkook did the same

“can i cook beef tomorrow?” and yoongi just looks at her “you and me in the kitchen tomorrow” and she just sits back with a satisfied smile

they’re all singing and she’s giggling on the side “you guys sound like drunk ahjussis”

somehow she’s curled up on hoseok’s lap all giggly and he looks at her “our makdungie is tipsy from the looks of it”

EPISODE 4

at the start of the episode you can see her curled up in yoongi’s side and playing a game on her phone

“how much makgeolli did hobi sneak you to make you tipsy?” “honestly, oppa, i don’t know”

the next you see her, she and jungkook are in his room, a bottle of soju between them, and just talking

“you know, i didn’t expect that we’d be this close at first”

yoonmi laughed at his statement “neither did i. you came and were kinda scary”

“it was completely new to me having a girl around,” he defended himself while pouring them another shot each, “but i found my best friend that way”

they clinked their shot glasses together and downed their current shots

“it’s a little funny, isn’t it?” she asked him

“what is?” “the fact that we became best friends. most guys your age at the time would have found it weird hanging out with a little girl”

he scoffed “i’m different! besides, i think it’s because the hyungs said it takes a while to get close to you, and i wanted to be the fastest”

she poured them their next shots “your competitive streak never died down”

they took their shots and sat in silence for a little bit just letting their music play from jungkook’s phone

the captions read “the two maknaes are communicating through the silence” while they just sat there and drank their soju

“hey, have i ever thanked you?” she asked all of a sudden

he raised an eyebrow at her, “for what?”

“everything,” she laughed, “taking care of me, being on my side, being someone i can talk to”

“many times, yeah,” he chuckled “you do the same thing for me, anyway. that’s why we’re best friends, remember?”

“then why do you always toss me around like a doll” “you look like a doll, face it”

she laughed while pouring them the last of the soju

“cheers to best friends and being bangtan’s maknaes,” she held her shot glass up “sleepover today?”

he laughed and clinked their glasses again “sleepover any time”

miya: ggukoo oppa, we’ve been friends since we were kids. we grew up together, so i guess we understand each other a lot? sometimes we have deep talks, sometimes we sit in silence. sometimes we fight, and sometimes we team up against the other oppas.

jungkook: i think people don’t understand that mimi and i have a deeper kind of dynamic rather than just the childish image we usually have together on screen. us talking like this is something we do a lot, and it brings us both a lot of comfort. clarity, too

then there’s a mini montage of them talking, but their words are muted and music played over them. there are bits of them laughing, drinking, and maybe letting out a tear or two before they just got into jungkook’s bed to go to sleep

when taehyung goes to the boathouse to sail his rc boat, he checks on them. the editors put a clip of jungkook and yoonmi sleeping with the caption “maknae siblings are tired from talking until 4am”

a while passes, and there’s a clip of jungkook sitting up in bed, yawning and rubbing the back of his head. he looks around the room a little before shaking yoonmi awake

“hmm?” “come with me to the main house” “okay”

the scene cuts and you next see them in the main house, jungkook working on his glider with yoonmi lying down next to him, her head on his lap and still half-asleep while namjoon and jungkook talk

“sleep late, yoon-ah?” “ggukoo oppa and i stayed up until four i think”

her mumbling was slightly incoherent, though and namjoon just laughed and patted her head

when he gives up on the glider, his hand rests on yoonmi’s head, lightly massaging for a bit before transferring her head to namjoon’s lap and heading to cook

“joonie oppa?” “hmm?” “are you reading?” “yeah, why?” “could you read out loud?”

namjoon’s just reading stuff out loud while she’s listening intently to every word

namjoon and taehyung headed up to the upper house first while she sat by the kitchen and waited for jungkook to finish what he was cooking

she opened her mouth as he turned around, just in time for him to pop a piece into her mouth “let’s go”

she settled into taehyung’s side and slowly began to eat after thanking the older members for the food. yoongi chuckled at her sleepy demeanor

“you’re taking a while to wake up today, princess” “ggukoo oppa and i had soju before sleeping”

“i like the melon,” she noted, making taehyung grin at her and nuzzle his forehead against the top of her head

she took over drying the dishes for namjoon and kissed him on the cheek “stay safe on the way back, oppa” “you, too”

she ended up cleaning up with jimin, humming a little song. she was telling him about the dream she had where they all performed live again. once they finished, she went off to sit with hoseok and read while he customized his shoes

“oppa, if it turns out good, you’re going to have to make one for me, too!” “ooooh matching shoes? you’ve got it”

jimin came and started customizing his shoes as well after briefly petting her hair

she went inside so jimin could use her chair and sat next to taehyung who pulled her into his lap. he rested his chin on her shoulder while she read

when it came to packing up, she was muttering to herself while folding things into her carrier “should i have done more? i feel like i was too boring… oh well”

jimin walked into her room and leaned against the door frame

“need help, aegi?” “... yes, please” he helped her carry the bag with her clothes and the bag with her recording and producing equipment while she carried her guitar out

she ended up playing a vr game with jungkook where they had to break boxes to the rhythm of songs

there was a lot of giggling and laughter while they tried to distract each other with jimin on her side and taehyung on jungkook’s side

“ggukoo oppa’s cheating!” “uh huh, get your revenge later, let’s eat first”

she pouted at seokjin’s words but took of the vr goggles and skipped outside

“thank you for the food!” and she digs into her jjapaguri

she laughed at the reactions part until hoseok turned to her “why are you laughing? you can’t hide it the most!”

“only to you guys! but to everyone else, i can fake it”

she put her bags and guitar into the car yoongi drove and was surprised when yoongi told her to her to get in shotgun. she did and saw seokjin walking towards them and the car in front driving off

“pretend you’re asleep, princess”

she quickly closed her eyes and faced yoongi, struggling to hold in her laughter when she hear seokjin trying to open the door

she just lost it when yoongi drove off

[thiswasinevitableid]

29 for indruck nsfw? i am already amused thinking about what sport either of them would play

Here you go!

29. I’m a professional athlete and I just fired my personal assistant and my manager sent you over but you don’t even know what sport I play or who my team is

When you’re in an aggressive profession it’s best, in Duck’s experience, to be as calm and friendly as you can the rest of the time.

But this whole shit-show is testing his fucking limits.

It’s been two days since he found out his perfectly fine P.A was working for the Wallstreet Journal, hoping to learn that Duck was somehow using his T or his identity to gain an unfair edge in matched. Ned fired him on the spot, thank god, but it took less than twelve hours for the guy to publish some fabricated piece on his attitude and for Duck to remember why he needed an assistant in the first place. He’s gotten so used to having one that he keeps forgetting stuff or dropping the ball on appointments, and the last thing he needs right now is to look like some stupid hick.

When Ned texts him to let him know his new P.A is en route, Duck groans “thank fuck” loud enough to startle the cat from her tree.

He goes to the door when someone knocks, but doesn’t open it.

“Who is it?”

“Indrid Cold? I, ah, Mr. Chicane said this was Duck Newton’s address and I’m supposed to start as his assistant tomorrow.”

Duck opens the door, “Fuck tomorrow, you’re startin today. I gotta focus on strategy with Minerva the next two days if I don’t wanna show my ass Friday night and it’s real fuckin hard to do that with people callin me left and right.” He guides the startled young man inside, then stops to take a deep breath, “sorry, lemme try that again” he holds out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Indrid.”

“Likewise, Mr. Newton.”

“Duck is fine. It’s a nickname. You bring your stuff with you?”

“Yes, it’s all in my car.”

“Good. Here, lemme give you the, uh, the grand tour, so to speak, on the way to your part of the place.”

Indrid smiles and nods, hanging back slightly as Duck leads him through the house. They cover the living room, kitchen, Duck’s bedroom, then come what was once the garage door.

“This here’s the gym; you can’t find me in the rest of the house, I’m probably here.”

“Goodness” The other man’s eyes widen behind his red glasses, “that’s an impressive array. I mean, I know professional athletes need to train but I, ah, I assumed you did it on site with the rest of your team.”

“Team?” Duck closes the door, spots Indrid’s fingers diving into his pockets to hide their twitching.

“Yes.”

“Which team?”

“Your...sports team?”

“....you got no fuckin clue who I am, do you?”

“No.” Narrow shoulders sag in his sweater.

Duck chuckles, “Figures.”

The silver haired head snaps back up, “Mr. Chicane didn’t say it was a prerequisite for hiring me.”

“Guess he didn’t. And I guess it ain’t. Just hoped they’d hire someone who knew what the fuck he was gettin into.”

Indrid crosses his arms, “They gave me a very thorough job description. I assure you I can do every part of it. Laying out your pre-workout and scheduling appearances isn’t rocket science, and it doesn’t matter if the dry cleaning I pick up is for a, a baseball after party or some sort of charity basketball fundraiser.” It dawns on the taller man that he’s just snapped at his boss. He contracts in on himself, staring down at his black converse.

Duck takes the chance for a more careful look; all of his clothes are second hand, chosen as if he’s cosplaying a jock who went into white collar work. There are piercing holes in his ears, flecks of silver polish on his nails. This job application was a hail mary and Ned Chicane went ahead and caught.

“No harm done, slim.” He rests a friendly hand on Indrid’s arm, “think it’s time I enlightened you.”

His office doesn’t get used much, so a sprinkling of dust greets them as he flips on the lights and reveals posters, magazine covers, and newspaper clips bearing Duck’s face. The gloves he used to win his first fight hang in a place of honor, right above the photo of him and the other fighters from Amnesty Boxing. It’s an older photo, taken the first time they sent a team out of state, sun-faded to the point the writing on it is disappearing. It makes him smile all the same.

“This does explain the set of instructions for helping you cut weight if needed.” Indrid takes in the posters, then turns his attention to the corner dedicated to Duck’s model ship collection. He cocks his head, says more to himself than Duck, “boxer. Interesting.”

“Were you just gonna bluff about knowin who I was until I said somethin?”

“That and look for clues in the rest of the house.”

He smiles, “Like a man with a plan b. C’mon, lemme show you your room.”

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

Alright, so Indrid should have researched Duck Newton before turning up at his house so he didn’t come across as ignorant and unprepared. But he was busy running every Taskrabbit and UberEat he could get just to scrape up enough to keep his landlord off his back. Sue him for not wanting to sleep in his car again.

He never expected to get this job; live-in P.A who doesn’t have to pay for groceries (buy them, yes, since that’s one of his jobs) is not the kind of luck he’s familiar with. He keeps waiting for the catch, so nervous that when Duck pops in on him unpacking he assumes he’ll scold him for his wardrobe.

“I, should I buy some more professional clothes?”

Duck takes in the two duffle bags and backpack, “Up to you. I don’t mind you lookin like the little art punk you are, but a dress shirt or two might help if we gotta go somewhere real upscale. Don't worry about buyin it yourself; just use the same card we do for groceries.”

Indrid is still hung up on why the fact a man three inches shorter than him calling him “little” makes his chest burn. Luckily, the phone rings and distracts him. Then it rings again. And again. And again. All while the inbox doubles every time he looks at it.

This turns out to be the catch; the work is actually hard. Everyone and their uncle wants to interview Duck, get him to sponsor something, or proposition him. Four hours in, he’s overwhelmed, overstimulated, and ready to hide under the desk. His fidget necklace isn’t helping, so he pulls out his chewable one; it often helps him think in high pressure moments.

The phone rings again and he growls at it.

“You’re allowed to let things go to voicemail, y’know.”

He spins in his chair, black rubber moth still in his mouth. Duck leans in the doorway, tank top soaked in sweat and towel around his shoulders

“I, I’m sorry. I just don’t want to drop anything important.”

“Ned handles the fights and the money, and anyone I care about has my private number for emergencies.”

“Right. I knew that.” Indrid can’t have his boss thinking he’s a total space-case.

Duck smiles, “What I’m sayin is; ain’t the end of the world if you don’t get back to everyone right away. Besides, right now you need a lunch break, slim. Lemme go rinse off and I’ll join you.”

By the time Duck enters the kitchen in an old “NIN” shirt and jeans, Indrid has his protein bowl laid out for him and is finishing microwaving a hot pocket for himself. Before he can scurry away, Duck pats the seat beside him and Indrid sits down, preparin to politely listen to Duck talk about himself or his sport.

He talks for ten minutes about the trees he saw on his run that morning before asking Indrid what he did before coming to the house. Indrid explains about his art and his side hustles in tarot and palm reading, about the run of bad luck that saw him without roommates and lost him his steady gig at a coffee shop. Duck makes genuinely sympathetic noises, lets Indrid change the subject when the fact he was on the edge of disaster makes Indrid’s chest tighten. They’re still talking about music as Indrid returns to his desk and Duck goes to meet Minerva in the gym.

By the time Duck’s fight rolls around that weekend, Indrid is feeling much better. He has a system of sorting emails that works for him, some mothman stickers to help him organize the paper calendar on his desk, and more confidence in his ability to spot callers with ulterior motives. He’s shut down two separate ones looking to trap Duck into interviews where he’d be forced to defend his very identity. Duck overheard his responses to the second one and brought him back a fancy creme brulee latte from his breakfast as a thank you.

He doesn’t go to the fight; it’s a small one for charity and Duck has Ned to manage him, Minerva to train him, and Leo to coach him ringside. He doesn’t need his P.A. Instead, Indrid finishes up his correspondence for the day, makes sure Duck’s breakfast is all set in the fridge, and confirms the masseuse is coming in the morning.

Once in bed, Indrid gets sucked into the commission he’s doing and is lost to the world until a tired, satisfied face pokes through his door.

“Oh! Hello Duck. Did it go well? Do, ah, is there something you need from me?”

“Yep, I won like I thought I would. And nope; was just poppin in to say goodnight.”

No one’s said that to him in a long time. The bitterness of that realization is sweetened by Duck’s smile.

“Goodnight to you too, Duck.”

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

Minerva is sick, which wouldn’t be a problem except for one part of his workout. He could skip it, but he needs to keep everything sharp for when they go to L.A.

“‘Drid? You got a few minutes?”

His assistant appears in the doorway, black jeans and white “Cramps” tank-top fitting him in a way that makes Duck want to hold him face down on the floor and find out how to take his breath away.

“What do you need?”

Duck points to the heavy bag, “You up for bracin this while I hit it?”

“I...I am not as strong as Minerva.”

“You don’t gotta be; this is just to keep the damn thing from swinging while I’m doin this speed drill.”

“Alright.” Indrid takes off his glasses and sets them on the folding chair, joining Duck, “how do I hold it?”

Duck shows him, does a few test punches to make sure he won’t send the poor guy flying. The round clock dings green, and he’s off. The bag wobbles for the first few seconds, then Indrid seems to find his footing and holds it stable enough for the drill to work. When the round ends, Duck steps baack, “okay, you can let go until the next round.”

“Goodness.” Indrid stretches his hands, “I feel for your opponents. I’m jarred just from that.”

“You need to stop? I got two more rounds at least, but if it’s hurtin you I caan skip ‘em.”

Indrid shakes his head, smiling, “nono, I like helping you with this. It’s exhilarating.”

The bell dings.

“Glad to hear it. Now brace it again.”

By the end of round three, Indrid is panting loud enough for Duck to hear him over the fan. He looks up, glove still on the bag, and finds them face to face.

“Minerva said three to five rounds for this. You wanna keep goin?”

Indrid, breathless and grinning, nods, “Can’t have you slacking off, now can we?”

Duck wants to bite his lip, just to see what happens. Blames the thought on the adrenaline. Then discovers the exact same thought waiting for him when Indrid, cleaned and in his most respectable clothes, joins him in the car to go to an interview.

Ned gave the P.A a list of likely questions, so they practice those as they creep across the Bay Bridge. But Duck notices that on both the trip there and back, whenever there’s a lull in conversation Indrid is on his phone reading about boxing. Duck knows the other man fixates on topics that interest him; knowing one of Duck’s passions has earned that distinction makes him smile.

After that, he starts inviting Indrid to watch him train, or shares his thoughts about matches with him. That’s all it takes for Indrid to start drawing him into long, animated conversations about his sport. When Indrid asks why there’s such debate over the proper way to wrap hands and also how does Duck do his, Duck demonstrates.

“Here, ‘Drid, now you try it on me.”

The P.A moves the wraps slowly, deliberately, moving Duck’s hand like it’s a priceless treasure he’s readying for transport. Every time he bites his lip in concentration or brushes hair from his forehead, Duck has to remind himself to breathe.

“Done.” Indrid is still holding his left hand, “Did I do well?”

The boxer tests the wraps, wiggles his fingers and clenches his fists. Then he squeezes Indrid’s hand, “you did perfect, slim.”

Duck can wrap his hands in his sleep. But whenever he’s home, he finds Indrid and asks him to do the honors. Indrid does them every time. Perfectly.

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

Indrid stands in the green room with Ned and a cluster of arena employees. The roaring crowd a few walls away echoes through the screen. He’s never seen Duck fight, but this event required all hands on deck to handle P.R, scheduling, and making sure Duck had what he needed to win.

Duck and his opponent enter the ring. Touch gloves.

Indrid’s pulse climbs.

Then the bell sounds and no useful noises come through the T.V. Just the announcers shouting and being drowned out by the crowd. Indrid gives up on parsing the cacophony, focus only on Duck. He’s seen him practice, but in a true match he’s a different beast. His opponent is faster, that much is clear, but Duck is patient, steady, blocks and weaves until he can land blows that make Indrid hurt just watching them.

Duck is magnificent like this. Indrid has to draw him like this, has to capture this and keep it forever, he has to, he has…

He has a hard-on in the middle of the green room.

He sticks it out long enough to see Duck win and then bolts to the bathroom so it can be taken care of by the time the boxer is done with the post-fight interviews.

They go out to celebrate, and Duck never nudges Indrid aside to let someone more important sit next to him. And as the drive to the hotel, he nods off with his head on Indrid’s shoulder.

It only gets worse after that.

Duck will coax him into joining him for a run with the promise of a fancy breakfast. On cheat days, Duck orders food to the house or takes Indrid out to lunch, and somehow the thing he wants when not focused on macros is always the thing Indrid mentioned he’d been craving. He invites Indrid on hikes with him, starts taking him to all his events even though he seldom needs help or herding at them (“yeah, but it’s nice to have someone to crack jokes with”). And on days when Indrid needs to be alone, or wants to see other friends, Duck simply smiles and closes the door.

The most dangerous days are the ones without anything on the schedule. Then it’s all too easy for Indrid to pretend that they’re something they’re not while he draws at the table across from where Duck is building his model ship. Too easy to imagine that the water-wise garden Duck tends is something he put into their house, not his house that Indrid happens to live in. Too easy to admit that Indrid wants to look after him for no payment except being looked after in return.

Duck reciprocating his feelings is within the realm of possibility. Indrid’s caught him staring when he walks in on the P.A doing yoga, and the casual touches long ago made the leap from accidental to deliberate. He also knows that Duck can’t fire him--only Ned can--and hopes that might lead to the boxer slinging him over his shoulder and tossing him on the bed one of these days.

There’s also the tabloid site circulating a photo of them with a caption claiming he’s Duck’s “boytoy” in spite of them only being two years apart. They’re not even sitting that close in the picture; Duck’s just smiling at him like he’s the only thing in the world, that’s all.

Currently, he’s having an easier time keeping his feelings buried because--ever since they landed in Vegas-- Duck has been a dick the rest of the day. Well, as much as a dick as he can be; his offenses are mainly snapping at people and lacking his usual patience.

When he scolds Indrid over something silly in the hotel that night, Indrid turns and stares at him over his glasses.

“Duck, what’s wrong?”

“Wh-uh, fuck, nothing, why do you, uh, fuck, I’m fine.”

“You just snapped at me in a way that was completely uncalled for.” He crosses his arms, “is it the fight? I know it’s a big one but that’s no reason to be rude.”

Duck scratches the back of his neck, “You’re gonna laugh at me.”

“I swear I won’t. Or, if I do, it will be after you leave.”

That gets a smile, “I’m uh, well, I’m what you’d call ‘horny as all fuckin get out.’”

Indrid’s immediate thoughts would solve the problem at hand while creating a new and far worse set, so he keeps them to himself and replies, “If need privacy, I can come back later and hold all your calls.”

“Nah.” Duck sits on the bed, “You’re not supposed to get off before a fight. Makes you too relaxed.”

“That strikes me as an old wives tale. Old boxers tale?”

“Either way, it’s one Minerva still believes. If I lose, she will ask about every possible cause, includin that one. Better if I just cat nap before I start all my pre-match stuff. Come get me in fort minutes?”

“Of course.” Indrid waves and closes the door before he offers to lay down in the hopes of Duck having a wet dream while holding him.

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

Duck wins, though it’s a tough battle to get there. He fucking hates these Pay-Per-View fights, they try to make it sound like he’s got beef with the other guy. In reality, once he’s down from a knockout, Duck is the one who helps him to the other side of the ring.

There’s a flurry of press afterwards, of questions and congratulations while all he wants to do is shower. He gets clean, promises Ned they can all go out to celebrate later. As he and Indrid finally escape to his suite he’s forced to admit that--if the thoughts of hitting the “fire” button and fucking Indrid against the wall are any indication--his problem from earlier hasn’t gone away.

“Do you need me to see if I can get a masseuse up here? You look very stiff.”

“Just uh, just tense.” Why did he tell Indrid he liked those jeans on him? He’s worn them as often as he can since.

Indrid cocks an eyebrow, “Still pent up even though the fighting is done?”

“Yep.”

The P.A shakes his head, hiding a smirk, “Do you need me to find something for you to watch?”

“No.”

“I mean it, this place has all the good channels.” He’s so earnest, picking up the channel guide like it, rather than those fucking jeans and shirt with Duck’s name on it, has what Duck needs.

“No.” He growls.

Indrid sighs, sets the book back down, “This mood is annoying us both, so just tell me what kind of porn you want and I can go out and buy it.”

“Unless they got somethin called ‘boxer jackhammers skinny artist until he cries’ we’re gonna be shit out of luck!”

The P.A blinks, “Duck, this is Vegas, I can probably find that. Or look for it on your laptop…” he trails off when their eyes meet. Duck knows he must look like he’s ready to jump him. Indrid licks his lips, “Duck? What, ah, what exactly lead to this situation?”

“You really wanna know, slim?” Duck steps across the carpet, notices Indrid padding over the black and blue patterns to meet him.

“Yes.”

Duck removes Indrid’s glasses, “Had a dream about you while I was on the plane. Woke up havin just finished fuckin you open. First thing I thought was “no big deal, ‘Drid’s right here. We can do the real thing once we get to the hotel.’ Then I fuckin remembered that we couldn’t, and I know for damn sure that if I jerk off I won’t feel satisfied because you’re be over there” he jabs his thumb at the door connecting their rooms, “so close and completely outta my reach.”

“So keep me right here instead.” Indrid purrs, fingers tentatively finding Duck’s hips. The light contact splinters his self-control and he practically tackles Indrid onto the bed, kissing him as the taller man moans and paws at his clothes.

The kiss takes the heat off enough to clear the steam fogging up his head and sits up, “This really okay?”

“I would have said if it wasn’t now for goodness sake please get back down here.” Indrid yanks him forward by the front of his shirt, smashing their lips together. He’s humming and sighing every time Duck touches him, rolling his hips to display a quickly forming hard-on.

“Aw, sugar, you gettin excited just from kissin’?” Duck grinds down just to see him gasp.

“Y-yes. I, Duck, I’ve wanted this for months.”

The implication of those words slam his desire into overdrive, “You sneaky little thing, that why you kept runnin around in tight clothes?”

“Most of my clothes h-hang off me.” Indrid holds tight to Duck’s thighs as the boxer strips his shirt off, “but yes I, I did start wearing what you liked more often.”

“Ain’t that thoughtful. And what were you hoping would happen, slim?” Duck yanks his sweats off and kicks them to the floor.

“This.” Indrid’s eyes keep slipping down to stare at Duck’s dick.

The boxer strokes himself lazily, “like what you see?”

“So much.”

“Then how about a closer look, sugar?” He crawls up Indrid’s body to straddle his face. It looks even better than normal framed by his thighs.

“Do I get to touch too?”

Duck guides his hands onto his ass, “As much as you want. You gonna be sweet and let me fuck your face, or am I gonna have to hold your mouth open?”

Indrid opens his mouth instantly, a whimper creeping out of it as Duck strokes his hair. The sound morphs into a louder, but muffled, moan when Duck sinks down. He teases his dick against Indrid’s lips, drags slick across his chin, feels his jaw tremble with wanting to close. Duck shifts so his dick touches Indrid’s tongue, “get to it. Oh fuck” he braces a hand on the wall, “heh, didn’t know Ned screened for cocksuckin skills.”

Indrid shakes his head, brown eyes wide as Duck roughly rides his face.

“No? He didn’t make you demonstrate on some of the other fighters? Didn’t make sure you could make a whole gym cum to prove your mouth was good enough for me?”

“‘O” Indrid shakes his head again, silver strands sticking to the pillow as he kneads Duck’s ass in a way that makes him groan.

“Too bad for them. Because now they ain’t ever gonna get a chance.”

A whimper and write of the torso; Duck glances over his shoulder to watch Indrid buck his hips in the air, pre-cum clear on his crotch. His feet, still in their shoes, point and flex as he moans around Duck’s dick.

“You like that, don’t you sugar?” He threads both hands into Indrid’s hair, pinning his head down or pulling it closer as it suits him, all the while gently rubbing his scalp “like knowin’ that you’re doin well.”

A harder suck in reply.

“Then be a good little cocksucker and make me cum.” He holds his head down and let’s loose, grinding and grunting in pursuit of the heat that starts at Indrid’s tongue and is steadily curling up into Duck’s belly. The other man holds him tight, moaning and licknig and sucking until Duck cums on his mouth, the lasts bursts of it happening against a slackening jaw.

As soon as his legs cooperate, he climbs off and guides Indrid to sit up in his arms. His attempt to check on the other man is interrupted by a frantic kiss.

“I was gonna ask if you wanna keep goin’, but I think I got my answer.”

“Yes, I mean no, I mean please don’t stop yet. Please I, we can do whatever you like, we can do just this, you can drag me out on the balcony and fuck me in full view of the city-”

“Easy, slim, easy.” Duck cups his cheek, “let’s start with somethin simple. Get naked and get comfy on your back for me. I gotta go grab somethin from down the hall.”

His memory turns out to be spot on; the vending machine on this floor has toiletries, including condoms and a travel bottle of lube. He buys ten of one and three of the other, drops them in the pockets of his robe and hurries back to Indrid. Sprawled on the bed, he looks painfully vulnerable, like someone who got used to life kicking him and telling him to stay down.

It’ll be different when they’re together, Duck can promise that much.

“Seem to recall you wanting me to keep you here.” He grabs a handwrap, holds it where Indrid can see, “how do you feel about me usin this?”

“Extremely good. Oh, oh hello.” He laughs when Duck rolls down beside him to pepper his face with kisses. The process of trapping his hands to the headboard is prolonged thanks to their mutual need to keep kissing every five seconds.

“Now” Duck kisses his shoulder, “I didn’t bring any toys to fuck you with, so it’s just gonna be my hand.”

“You say that as if it’s a disappointment to me and not incredibly sexy.”

“Some folks don’t think you’re fuckin ‘em unless you use somethin dick-shaped.” Duck shrugs with a flicker of sadness from the last time he had that conversation.

“Tell me who insulted your body or your skills in bed and I shall stand outside their window with a megaphone informing them of how terrible their manners are and how they missed out on the finest man in the world.”

“That’d be funny” Duck leisurely kisses his belly and hips before sitting up, “but you’d have to get outta bed.”

“True. Ah well, a sternly worded email will have do OOOh, oohhhyes.” He wiggles his hips as Duck presses in the first finger, relaxing under his touch.

“Get the feelin you’ve done this before”

“Yes.” Indrid’s chest is flushed and Duck reaches up his free hand to play with his nipples.

“What’s the most you’ve taken?”

“Th-three, I believe. I, ah, I’m usually facing away so I sometimes lose track.”

“You're takin four tonight. Can’t believe anyone would wanna miss out on how you look when you’re getting fucked.” He teases the second finger to prove his point and Indrid’s mouth curves with bliss.

“My ass is many people’s type; my face not so much.”

“Fuck that.” Duck pushes the second finger in. Indrid arches, then sighs as Duck keeps working him open.

“I find it difficult to care what they thought right now. I, ahhhn, it’s much more fun to think about you.”

“About me…?”

“About right you’re doing right now and, AH, what we can do next. I do so want to sit in your lap in the hot tub back home.”

“Can manage that. What else?”

“I’d very much l-like to fuck you, however you’ll let me and, and I want us to do it right after you train some day, you look so good like thatAHgod.” The third finger is in and Indrid is now steadily pushing down on them, “and one of the times you get me to run with you I expect a blow job in reward oh, ohfuck” his eyes are wild and eager, “please do the last one, I’m ready, I want it so badly, please.”

Duck begins teasing the fourth finger, “Think all those wants of yours sound real good. You wanna know mine?”

“Absolutely. AHaahnnnahgod” The wrap tightens as Indrid clings to it, trying to stabilize himself as Duck fucks his hand into him hard.

“Soon as we get home, I’m gettin the strap-on and fuckin you for a solid hour at least. Gonna leave you so fuckin raw and relaxed you won’t wanna do anything but lay there, and you’ll goddamn get to because you’re mine and I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Duck” it’s a happy sob, Indrid’s cock bobbing in the air.

“Gonna take a trip somewhere private, just the two of us, and you’re gonna spend the whole fuckin time tied up, to the bed, a chair, whatever the fuck else I feel like so I can ride your dick whenever I want.”

“Yes.” Indrid is barely getting out words between his cries.

“And the next time you have the fuckin nerve to wear tight jeans the day I gotta fight, I’m gonna shove a vibration plug up that cute little ass and lock your cock in a cage so we can both be horny without bein able to get off.”

“Duck please, I’m close, please touch-”

He wraps his fingers around Indrid’s dick and works him over hard and fast, “Soon as I’m done with that fight, you’re gonna blow me in the locker room so I can focus on nailin your ass into next week when we get--ohfuck!” Cum hits his chin as Indrid gasps and squeaks, scratching at the wraps and the headboard.

If Duck ever loses his memory, he hopes this is the last moment to go; Indrid Cold, happy, safe, and satisfied while he moans Duck’s name.

Indrid is boneless as Duck undoes the bonds, though he rallies enough to pull the boxer into a hug so he can cuddle him like a teddy bear. He kisses his throat, feels his pulse even out beneath his lips.

“Duck? Does, ah, does this mean what I think it does?”

The phone rings right as he’s about to answer. It’s probably Ned, so he holds up a finger and grabs the receiver.

“Go for Duck. Yeah, yeah that’ll be fine” he nods as Ned explains the plan for their exclusive, late night dinner, “yeah, tell ‘em five; you, Minerva, Leo, me and” he winks at a beaming Indrid, “my boyfriend.”

[jae-daddy]

THE BLESSED

jaebum and jinyoung au   fantasy!au royalty!au 

your blessed highness played by park jinyoung

pair: jinyoung x jaebum x reader genre: fantasy, royalty, romance, mature a/n:  I haven’t posted anything in a while and this isn’t duff or red rose lol, but I thought why not just share it with y’all. its like a super duper loosely not thought out at all, like I was bored so wrote this kinda of story. it was like the first chapter of a book I would like to write, but I think my writing isn’t on that level yet, but -- okay - alright. hope y’all enjoy it. not edited.<3

ps: the Blessed is played by Park Jinyoung! Blessed is bless-sed the whole story, not blessed <3 don't steal this plz, y’all.

A small yellow butterfly appeared in front of you. You got ready to flinch and step away in fear, but you weren’t scared. It felt as if it was looking at you, and suddenly you could see it’s eyes.

It blinked at you, flying in closer, making you crossed eyed before flying back away from you. It flew a few steps away and stopped, turning back, almost telling you to follow. 

You walked in its direction and it continued, going slow at first and then slowly speeding up. You chased after it, feeling a bubble of laughter leave your chest as you asked it slow down. It teased for a few more seconds, before slowing down and then coming to a stop completely. 

You watched its beautiful golden wings flutter, staying a float in the winter wind. It looked out of place with all the snow blanketing the mountains behind. You took in the scene, the haunted looking house further up the path of the fence in front of you. The melting wooden fence wasn’t a good deterrence to keep out anyone or anything, but the falling apart house matched the aesthetic and gave a clear warning not to enter. 

“Why here?” You softly asked the butterfly. It kept fluttering, keeping afloat. It’s big eyes watching you expectantly. 

And then you heard it. 

And you remembered you had been here before. 

The scream tore through the silence, once again.

It was familiar. 

And then again. 

The voice cut through your skin, crawling into your flesh. You began walking towards it; past the rotting fence and towards the cement stairs of the ageing house. 

Your hand reached out, about to push the hanging door open, when it all disappeared.

It was all dark, there was nothing. 

And then a voice; his voice. 

“Y/n.” It whispered. 

You breathed a name you didn’t know as you searched for him in the chocking darkness.

“Jaebum.” 

You woke up to the sound of your aunt screaming downstairs. Your night dress clinging to your body, as your skin glistened with sweat. 

You closed your eyes, sighing as you sunk back into your bed. 

It was an odd dream to have. You knew that, but you couldn’t really tell anyone about it. You had tried telling your little sister once, and she looked at you as if you were mad. 

She found having dreams in itself strange. She said she only dreamed sometimes, and they were simple. Dreams about her in a meadow, reading. Dreams about her missing the latest ribbon price-downs at Diana’s. Dreams that reflected her normal every day life. 

Nothing of this sort; nothing strange or horrible like hearing a strange man’s screams of agony. 

Never nothing out of the ordinary, just normal every day dreams. 

But you, you had the strange dream again.

Once again, you were back at that little old building. The wood damp, rotting, almost falling apart. The snow covering it and the land around it as far as your eyes could see. And that strange little butterfly. 

But this time you found something new. You had gotten something new, a name. 

You opened your eyes, staring at the planks of wood. Your eyes tracing the vines of flowers your sister had painted on to them. The purple, pink and yellow blooming delicately across the slanting ceiling. Your lips pursed as a nervous feeling pricked your heart. 

“Wake up and help me, will ya?” Your aunt’s loud voice shouted through the floor beneath you. You closed your eyes once again, but this time in frustration.

You had just woken up and she had already started. “Your mother, Mother bless her soul, if she had been alive she would be disappointed to see such a lazy bird as her dingy. I’ll tell ya that, y/n.” 

You groaned as you sat up in your bed. You stared blankly at the wall as you wrapped your hair into a bun before securing it with a clip. You walked towards the bath, contemplating if you should clean yourself now or after doing your chores. 

“The pigs are changing colour from living in all that filth, girl,” your aunty spoke loudly. You sighed, turning around and walking towards your bed. You picked the dress from last night, putting it on before walking to the basin. 

You watched yourself in the mirror as you brushed your teeth with the herbal paste your little sister had whipped up. You weren’t really looking at yourself though. You were watching your eyes instead, and then trying to see any difference between the girl in the mirror and yourself. 

Lilith, your little sister, always called you mad, “If anyone knew you as well as I do sis, you’d be burned on a stake yesterday.” 

You spat out the paste, rinsed your mouth and looked at yourself once again. 

You bit your lip as you saw your eyes glisten with curiosity. 

It was foreign, for sure. No one in this town had that name, no one’s name was even close to sounding like it. 

You froze, your chest heaving as a new sort of excitement rushed through you. You held your gaze, a terrified feeling in your gut, but a smile on your lips as you tasted the name on your tongue, “Jaebum.” 

You gasped. 

You gasped at how that simple word made you feel. You felt a sadness rip through your heart and tears come to your eyes. You felt a sort of mourning ripple through you from that name. Your tongue savouring the taste of it as if it missed saying it already. 

“Jaebum,” you breathed once again. A tear fell from your eye, but you were smiling so brightly you were sure if someone were to see you’d be taken to the Giver this instant. But you couldn't find it in yourself to worry about that, not when such happiness and sadness sore through your body at once. 

You bit your lip, scared to say it again. You wiped the tear from your chin, as you stared at yourself. It didn’t look like you. 

The girl in the mirror didn’t look you. You leaned in, so did she. Her actions matching yours, but it wasn’t you. Your burrows furrowed together, your face less than an inch away from the reflection. 

“Keep on admiring ya’self all day then doll,” your aunt walked in, banging the door open as she stood outside your room. She was a fierce thing for a woman her size. Even when you towered well over her, she still intimidated you as she stood there with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, “Don’t ya worry. Ya little sis and I will get it all done and sorted. You rest and spend the day in front of the mirror.”

“Aunt,” you sighed, already tired. You walked towards her, your shoulders tightening as you rolled your eyes. “I was just getting ready-”

“Oh, don’t have me disturbing ya then,” she cut you off, as she began walking away. “I’ll just do everything. What is the point of having young children in this house when they can be of no help. I’m better of living alone, at least then I only work and feed myself.” 

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help,” you groaned loudly. You knew she could hear you by the scoff that left her, before she mumbled something about the changing the water for the pigs. “I’ll do it. I’m coming.”

You were almost out the door when you turned one last time. 

She was standing there, looking back at you too; the girl in the mirror. 

“Did you hear?” Lilith walked into the barn as you shovelled a heap of pig waste into the wheelbarrow. You were cursing yourself for wearing yesterday’s dress. A pant and shirt would’ve been much suited, especially in this heat. 

You rose an eyebrow at your little sister in question. She shrugged with a knowing smile as she sat on the wooden frame of the fence surrounding the pen. 

You tried not to think about how much she looked like your mother, but failed once again. You didn’t have many memories of her, she passed away when you were three, during Lilith’s birth. But the lack of memory was made up by the photos and paintings your aunt had saved off her. 

She would never let you forget your mother. 

There was a photo of your mother in your aunt’s treasured box. You were reminded of it suddenly as you saw your sister perched on the ledge, smiling at you secretively. She looked just like her in the moment, only a few years younger. 

“Oh, come on. Spit it out already Lily, or else the suspense will kill me before the heat does.” You groaned as you lifted another heap into the wheelbarrow, but the pile was not lessening a bit. “This stupid dress is suffocating me, and seems like all these pigs do is just shit all day.” 

“That is all they do,” she replied mocking. Her dimples deepened as you shot her an annoyed look. 

“If you’re just here to be a nuisance, leave. I’m already upset enough.” 

“Always such a lemon,” she clicked her tongue, before she let out a dreamy sigh. “Lucas just told me the Hallow has a new master.” 

You looked up at her, with raised brows. “Is Lucas a trusted informant?” 

“He is if his father is helping with the opening ball next Sunday,” she smiled back. 

“O’Mother, has aunt got wind of this?” You bit your lip praying she hadn’t. Your aunt, like every other older women who has nothing better to do is determined to have you married and settled. 

Just then, your heard the hooves of the carriage splatter against the muddy path. Your aunt smiled almost viciously as she spotted you, “Off to steal ya the most divine suit, y/n.” 

Before you could complain, she was off. 

You gave your sister a tired look, which she returned with a humoured smile. 

“She’s only looking out for ya,” she told you, taking the flower from her book and putting it behind her ear. 

You wanted to ask her if that was from Lucas but you stopped yourself, and instead sighed, “I don’t need looking out for. I don’t need to get married. I just need to be left alone.”

“You can’t be alone forever.”

“I won't,” you pouted as you looked at her, “I'll always have ya.”

“I’ll go away and do my own thing one day.” 

“Will you get married?”

“I plan to.”

“Have child?”

“Hopefully.”

“Perfect, I’ll be their Governess and Aunt.” You gave her a smug smile. 

“I would have to decline, sis,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “I want children not animals.”

“Ya!” 

Lilith only laughed, and you rolled your eyes before you got back to shovelling. 

“So the Giver finally found someone?” She said after a moment, her voice quiet. You peeked up at her, your face falling from the serious look on her face. 

“I’m afraid so,” you gave a joyless smile before continuing, “but it’s got nothing to do with us, Lily. We’re normal people, just keep ya head down and we’ll be fine.” 

“Lucas told me Maem also got a Blessed and now they have nothing to eat, and their winters are colder than the Cave,” Lilith insisted, her voice filled with conviction. You kept your eyes low as you empty one more load. 

You had heard of the rumours too. But you knew they were true. 

You had seen members of the Maem Court in the market over the past few months. Each of them looked tattered as if they had gone through hell. It was a knowledge passed down through centuries; the pain, poverty and torment that came with a Blessed. 

“This is all because of that damned Zein,” Lilith spat with anger that looked displaced on a girl like her. “If only she didn’t push for Vennesse to be registered.” 

“It’s Nightfall now, Lil,” you reminded her, softly. 

“Precisely!” She exclaimed, getting up from the bench and marching along the soil. “What sort of a horrendous name is that? It makes us all sound like them.” 

“Just ignore it, Lilith.” You sighed, putting down the tool and reaching for her. “We don’t need to get caught up in this. All that has nothing to do with you, or me, or us. We don’t need to do anything.” 

She pouted about to fight back, but you placed a gentle hand on her cheeks. 

You saw the embers of the fire inside those bright eyes, and it scared you.

It frightened you. 

You sent a silent prayer to the Mother and wished those embers blew out before they got any brighter. You gave her a smile, your eyes desperate, “We are okay like this. This is all we need to survive.” 

“I’m afraid I cannot simply survive if the world outside is burning into the ground,” her gaze held strong as she looked at you. 

“Lilith,” was all you could breath as you hugged her tight. 

You looked up at the sky, where the powerful beings used to live. You tried searching for them, but there was no sign of them. But still, you closed your eyes and prayed, you prayed that no harm should ever come to your Lilith. If something was to happen, you prayed it all upon yourself. 

The week flew by in a blink of an eye. You hadn't felt the days as they passed by. It all got lost in the endless cycle of work and trying to get the orders ready for the ball. 

You couldn’t truly believe a ball would have brought this amount of money into the house. You had thought the people of Darkfall would’ve resented and run away from the Blessed and his ball, but it was quite the opposite. 

It felt as if new life had been breathed into the court. Zein was utmost proud of herself as she strutted around the houses, checking in. When she stopped over at your aunt’s place, she looked at your aunt expectantly. 

Your aunt didn’t realise it at first, but when the silence grew too long during the payment, she had realised. Zein expected the whole town to be grateful to her and kiss her feet for bringing about this change. She wanted to be treated like our saviour, and how can you charge the court’s saviour for her pig orders.

The only reminder of the ball was the countdown till the orders were due. And you kept on working until the last order, the early morning of the Sunday was picked up. Once all was finished, once the rush had died down, you were ready to have a long bath before getting into your bed and not coming out until the sun came up again. 

You walked out of the barn and into the house with heavy steps, ready to march up the stairs and strip when two tiny arms attached to a tiny lady blocked your pathway.

“And where are ya off too?” Your aunt lifted a brow, quizzically. She tilted her head towards her room, where you could hear Lilith already walking around. You turned to your aunt, pouting. She just shook her head sternly, her wild curls slapping her face, “Look at the state of ya, y/n. You need attention if any suitable male is to look towards ya.”

“I think I can live without a suitable male looking towards me,” you gave her a tight smile. She peered up at you, her face turning red as she grabbed your elbow and you pulled you towards her room. “Aunt, I assure you, another beautiful fresh dress won’t change anything. Every male within our proximity is horrid.” 

She moved behind you, unzipping your dress, and pushing you towards the bath, “All luck to ya then. Whispers say there are men coming from far away to meet the new Blessed.” 

Before you could complain, she was already scrubbing you down. You scowled at her, telling her you’re not a child anymore. She just hit the back of your head and told you stop acting like one then. 

Lilith dried your hair, steaming it with perfume. You gave in eventually, putting on lipstain and powder on your cheeks and eyelids. You turned to Lilith who looked at you approvingly. 

Your aunt sighed happily in approval, before hobbling off and bringing in two long bags with the dresses. She opened one first, a beautiful white gown with soft coloured flowers along the bottom. She handed it to Lilith who looked at it in awe. 

“This is beautiful, aunt,” she breathed, hugging the older lady before kissing her cheek. “Ya truly done amazing.” 

“It’s nothing doll,” she smiled at your sister, watching her twirl around the room. “It was on price-downed, and I managed to steal it since I went so early. Ya pretty thing will make it look better anyway.” 

“Thank you,” she sang, happily twirling with the dress on top of her.

“Now, ya turn,” your aunt looked at you with a grimace. “I couldn’t find nothing worth stealing for ya. You end up hating it no matter, just a waste of precious coins.”

“But you obviously got something for me?” You pointed to the dark bag she laid on the bed. 

“I didn’t steal it, I found it.” She turned back and looked at you. Lilith walked towards the bed, clinging onto the bed post as she peered at the bag. You walked up towards the bed, as your aunt began unzipping it. “It was ya mother’s. Zeenat was a sight in the dress.” 

She unveiled the dress and the first thing that came to your mind was the night. The dress was made of the darkest blue you had ever seen; so dark it almost looked black at first sight. You touched the dress, the softness of the dress like feathers against your skin. 

You turned to your aunt, her eyes glistening with tears as yours did, “This is...”

She just nodded, understanding. 

“Stop the sobbing. ya old ladies,” Lilith wiped her eyes before she jumped into action. “It’s almost evening, I want to get there before the ball ends.” 

You had never seen the Hollow from this close. It was always from a distant, it had always been a small building at the top of the hill a good distance away from the rest of the town. But you were only realising how truly enormous it was. 

Your old house wasn’t even half the size of this. Only the first level of the mansion was dwarfing your house already. 

The Hollow was dark, brooding and enchanting. It was exquisite and intriguing in a way that made your heart beat. As if the golden walls, paintings and delicate designs all had secrets, all were hiding something sinister and you were a good look away from finding out and being trapped in the place forever. 

You had seen a crowd before, but you realised you had never truly known what a crowd was. The coming together of the twenty big families of the town was not a crowd. 

A crowd was this. 

Endless streams of horses and carriages lining up the ride up to the Hollow. The halls, the waiting rooms, the ball room, not a single space in the open areas was empty. Every room had people, and noise, so much noise. 

You had lost your aunt after her introduced you to the fifth male within an hour of entry. Lilith had disappeared instantly as soon as you arrived. She had spotted Lucas waiting for her by the door, and since then they had been dancing and chatting all night long. 

You caught the stares of your aunt and Lucas’ mother towards the pair. They both seemed a bit taken back, but none objected. Both pleased and turned away, focusing on the daughter they had bought to show today. 

“Yes, Mister,” you gave the man next to you a tight smile, trying to be polite and not poke your eyes out with a fork. “It is interesting.”

He was talking about the way the orchestra was set. 

You were enjoying the music, you thought it was tasteful, beautiful and uplifting. But you had never thought hard about how an orchestra was set out. You didn’t think it made a difference, but it did. 

Apparently, it made the whole performance sound much better. 

“We should do this at every function in Venesse,” he commented as he took a sip of his dark coloured drink. 

“Nightfall,” you corrected him. He paused as he turned towards you, his eyes widening in question. You gulped as you said, “It’s Nightfall now, Mister.” 

He held your gaze for a few moments before nodding, “Right.”

You nodded, looking off into the distance at the crowd trying to find a familiar face. 

“I’ve found someone I know,” he turned towards you giving you a smile. He continued, his voice no longer interested, his body already walking away. He bowed slightly, “I’ll find you again.”

“Of course,” you replied, not bowing. He stared at you, taken aback once again before walking away. You sighed, finding a wall and leaning against it. 

You sipped on the strange bubbly drink being served around the room. You liked it, it was refreshing. 

You finished the whole glass in one big gulp. You sighed, annoyed, as you looked around for a server. You finally spotted one and began making your way towards them. 

You had almost reached them when a hand gripped your elbow making you turn around. Her sharp eyes looked at you with a forced smile, “Where have you been, dear niece?”

You smiled at her words and tone, and her grip only tightened in return. You held up the empty glass, “I was just going to get another-”

She snatched the glass of you, and placed it on the server’s plate as it passed, “How many of those have you had?”

“Around ten,” you shrugged. You drank two with every guy your aunt had made you talk to. 

“Well, stop it, and follow me.” She began leading you up to the front of the room. As you walked behind her, her grip disappeared, but you continued to follow. The closer you got to the front, the more the people changed. 

There wasn't noise this far up the hall. People talked quietly, holding conversations, laughing softly. You could hear the music, the sweet richness of the bass strings vibrated here. People also looked older up here. 

Your eyes met a few on the way as you followed your aunt, and they looked away as if they hadn’t seen you in the first place. You frowned. 

Where was your aunt taking you?

She stopped suddenly making you bump into her slightly. You looked down at her, as she peered back up at you in anger. She turned to the front, her face calm and polite. 

“Your Blessed Highness,” she bowed, you followed her bowing. “It is an honour to make your grace.” 

She stood, and you followed her straightening. But kept your eyes down.

“Lady Hera,” a smooth voice greeted her. You heard your aunt gasp in surprise, before bowing her head slightly. 

“Your Blessed Highness,” she breathed, breathless. 

“Thank you for making an appearance,” the voice spoke again. His voice smooth and velvety. It was deep, graceful and attractive. It was familiar. “I hope to one day be able to purchase an offering from your farm.” 

“Anytime, Your Blessed Highness,” she replied, graciously. “We are at your disposal.” 

“You are too kind,” he only chuckled. 

You knew that voice. 

“Forgive my forwardness, but are you not to dance tonight?” 

You glared at your aunt, your eyes still cast low. 

He chuckled once again, graceful and controlled, “The night is still young, Lady Hera. Would you do me the honour if I decide too?”

You pursed your lips hiding the chuckle as you saw your aunt’s knees weaken. 

“Your Blessed Highness,” she gasped, and you could imagine a hand on her your chest in surprise. 

“I am too old. My bones ache from walking simply. But in my stead,” you saw her body turn as she held out a hand for you. You looked up to her startled. You would have glared if this was home, but you decided not to in front of the Blessed. “I present my oldest niece, Lady y/n.”

You placed your hand in hers, and let her guide you to the front. You swallowed nervously as you lifted your gaze. Your breath got caught in your throat as you saw the most handsome male sit in front of you in his throne. 

His dark eyes looked at you taking you in. The corners of his rosy lips lifting into a smirk as he tilted his head slightly to the side, studying you. 

“Lady Y/n,” he tested your name on his tongue. His voice soft and intimate. You felt your cheeks get hot as his eyes remained on you. He stared at you for a long moment before turning to your aunt, “A true beauty, right after you.” 

You bowed once again at the compliment, getting ready to walk away. 

“Save me a dance, my lady,” he stopped you, his gaze burning you once more. You bowed again, daring to look up once more. You look away instantly as your eyes meet his dark ones. 

“Your Blessed Highness,” you nod, before walking away. Your aunt follows, her hand squeezing yours tightly as you both rush away. 

[agerefandom]

Home Sweet Home

Fandom: Twilight

Characters: Esme and Carlisle Cullen as parents: Edward, Alice, Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie as regressors

Words: 3,500

Summary: The Cullens always enjoy family night: a chance for all the children to regress, and for Carlisle and Esme to feel like parents. There’s nothing more relaxing. But tonight, Edward is refusing to come downstairs and join the family.

Content Warnings: Parental titles, diapers, mention of nursing. Brief mentions of blood and the angst of immortality.

Notes: The first two paragraphs are referencing this fic I wrote earlier this month! It’s not necessary to understand the rest of the fanfiction, though. Let me know if you notice any errors, this was a long one for me to edit myself so I only did two drafts. (Also I might put out my Cullens headcanons after this, I didn’t incorporate all of them into this fanfiction!) 

Carlisle listens to the radio as he drives home, his mind drifting from thought to thought. It had been a busy day for the Forks clinic, but nothing compared to the ER in Seattle. His shifts there were full of the smell of blood and panic, constant calls and frightened family members.

But today, that one patient had been so frightened, and so young… it had made Carlisle’s unbeating heart feel bruised. He’s glad to be on his way home to his own children, safe with their mother. He hopes that patient is also safe at home, considering the offer he’d made to meet other regressors.

Carlisle’s home is a chaotic place, but full of joy, and he knows that few are so lucky.

He pulls up the driveway, waiting for the garage door to open before pulling into his spot and getting out. He had already changed out of his work clothes, now in plain slacks and his favourite grey sweater. Alice loves the texture of this one, and he knows it makes her happy to see him wearing it in the future, so he always makes sure to plan this outfit ahead of time.

He can hear his family’s voices inside, could pick them out if he focused enough. Alice is already waiting near the door, probably intending to tackle him once he gets inside. He can hear her quiet giggles as she waits. Carlisle won’t be surprised if Emmett is helping her with her ambush, but managing to stay quiet.

Carlisle braces himself and swings open the door.

“I’m home!” he calls out, just as Alice leaps at him. “Hi, honey!” he says, turning to catch her in his arms. Such a light little thing, his youngest daughter. “How are you?”

“Good, daddy!” Alice rests her cheek against his sweater, wrapping her legs around his waist. “You were gone so long!”

“Ah, boring work,” Carlisle sighs, already feeling the stress of the day melting away into the familiar smell of home and family. Human scents are so busy and overwhelming, emotions and history drifting from their skin. Here in their own space, Carlisle can pick out the clean smells of his family, each one slightly different but bearing the same mark: his venom, binding them together. “Much better to be home with my children.”

“Dad!!!” Sure enough, Emmett attacks from behind with a proper tackle, and only his verbal warning allows Carlisle to duck out of the way, chuckling. Emmett stumbles past and saves himself from crashing into the wall, just barely. He spins and runs at Carlisle again, this time jumping into his arms like Alice did.

He’s a larger boy, and Carlisle laughs as he catches him, thankful for the strength that allows him to lift his adult-sized children on each hip.

“Hello, Emmett. Trying to get daddy in a headlock again?”

“It was Alice’s idea,” Emmett says, resting his head on Carlisle’s shoulder.

“Hmm,” Carlisle murmurs, unconvinced. Alice and Emmett are the troublemakers of the household, occasionally pulling Rosalie into their schemes. It’s difficult to guess which of them planned the ambush.

Esme comes around the corner, carrying Jasper in her arms. Jasper is resting, eyes closed, his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. Esme looks absolutely beautiful, but she always does when Carlisle is seeing her for the first time in hours.

“Darling,” Esme says warmly. “I see you’ve already found the children.”

“It was a surprise attack,” Carlisle explains, bouncing the two siblings once before releasing them to the floor and watching them scramble back to their playroom. “Very fierce warriors, our children.”

“Fearsome,” Esme smiles, and approaches to give Carlisle a kiss. He will never get tired of kissing his wife. Each one is a blessing, and an affirmation of her love.

Today Esme is dressed in a plum-coloured dress that brushes against the ground, designed to be unhooked so she can nurse the children that are young enough. There’s no nutritional point to the gesture, of course, but just like the diapers and pull-ups that their youngest wear, it’s an emotional comfort. A reminder of both childhood and humanity. For Esme, being a mother has always been her greatest fulfilment, and nursing her children the most loving gesture.

“Would you take the baby?” she says, smiling fondly down at Jasper. “He’s been fussy all day, and the playroom needs my attention.”

“My pleasure.” Carlisle carefully accepts Jasper into his arms, sneaking another kiss onto Esme’s cheek in the process. Jasper stirs at the movement, making a small sound of confusion. “Hush, sweetheart. Just daddy,” Carlisle murmurs, making sure the baby is in a comfortable position. “Nothing to worry about.”

Jasper blinks his eyes open and looks up at Carlisle, then burbles a little string of nothing words.

“Oh, really?” Carlisle replies. “Emmett didn’t tell me that.”

Encouraged by the response, Jasper continues to babble. Carlisle smiles and nods as he carries his son towards the living room. “An interesting theory!” He settles into the couch and listens to the sounds of the house. Esme is lecturing Alice and Emmett in the other room: apparently, one of them pulled down the hammock again. It’s a nearly daily occurrence, the hooking system far too delicate for a family of vampires, but Esme thinks that the children need to learn how to be careful.

“Oh, your siblings are in trouble,” Carlisle sighs. “We’re lucky to have one little angel.”

“Two little angels,” Rosalie corrects him, jumping into one of the nearby chairs.

“Ah, of course.” Carlisle smiles at her. She’s done her hair in pigtails, and decorated her bangs with colourful clips. Rosalie is their eldest daughter, regressing to around eight or nine, but she’s still quite young. “Two angels. Where’s your older brother?”

“Upstairs,” Rosalie shrugs. “Listening to music.”

Sure enough, Carlisle can hear the tinny sound of Debussy’s Reverie coming from Edward’s headphones upstairs. “He’s missing family time.” Carlisle is worried about Edward, although he knows it’s pointless. Edward had been his first son, after all, and although he loves his entire family, he finds that Edward has withdrawn more and more in the recent decades. “Would you go and fetch him, Rosalie?”

“I can try,” Rosalie says dubiously.

“Come on, angel,” Carlisle cajoles. He holds out a hand, and Rosalie comes over to accept it. He kisses the back of her hand, smiling up at her. “You’re the only one scary enough to make him come down.” Rosalie laughs, clearly pleased by that.

“Can I play science after I get him? Mommy said I wasn’t allowed.”

“If I can play with you, we can absolutely do some science after.” Rosalie has a talent for creating explosions in the ‘kitchen,’ which is mostly used as a laboratory space for the children who are interested in such things. They all need adult supervision, but Rosalie often tries to argue that she’s old enough to play alone.

“Fine,” Rosalie sighs. “I’ll get him.”

And she runs up the stairs, upstairs within a second. Carlisle can hear the whir of Edward’s tape player as Rosalie’s footsteps start towards his room. Edward has been alive for many forms of music, but for some reason he always uses a tape player when he’s regressing. It makes it easy for Carlisle to tell when he’s regressed, at least: he’s so quiet as a teen, the eldest of the five siblings. Almost old enough that his regression matches the part all the Cullens children play in the human world, pretending to be teenagers.

There are only a few years between Edward’s regression and his everyday mask, but a world of difference. Edward can only regress at home, surrounded by the familiar thoughts of his family. Outside of the house, the constant noise makes it impossible for him to do anything except constantly sort through the data pouring in from all sides.

Carlisle closes his eyes, shutting out the sound of Edward’s music and Esme struggling with the hammock while Alice plays around her. Instead, he focuses on Jasper’s even breaths as he lies against his father’s chest.

Carlisle matches his youngest child’s breathing, enjoying the motion. He’s gotten out of the habit through the years: it’s easier to get through the days of hospital work if you pretend to be breathing, but neglect the act itself and all the intensity of tastes and smells that come with it. Here at home, Carlisle will sometimes engage in meditation, turning his attention to the act of breathing: there’s something calming about the flow of air in your body, even if you don’t need the oxygen for your blood flow.

Jasper smiles in his feigned sleep, pressing a little closer to Carlisle’s chest. He clearly knows that he’s being copied.

“Precious boy,” Carlisle says fondly, brushing a hand across Jasper’s cheek. “So loved by his parents.”

Jasper fully smiles at that, closing his eyes tighter and pulling at Carlisle’s sweater in an approximation of a hug.

“I love you too,” Carlisle murmurs, knowing what the gesture means.

“Daddy!” Rosalie says, standing in front of the couch again.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Carlisle says, blinking up at her.

“You need to get Edward.” Rosalie crosses her arms. Esme enters the room, and Carlisle can tell from her expression that she heard a conversation that he missed. She looks worried, her eyes flickering to the ceiling where Edward’s room is.

“You’d better go,” she agrees. “Give the baby to mommy, he needs a change.”

Jasper is transferred between them again, happy to get back to his mommy’s arms. Carlisle will never be the favourite parent there, but that’s alright. He loves all his children equally. But now his worry for Edward is sharper, wondering what he missed in his preoccupation with Jasper’s breathing.

“Is he alright?” Carlisle asks, already halfway up the stairs.

“He’s fine,” Rosalie says. “Just little,” she adds as Carlisle reaches the door to Edward’s room, the words echoing up the stairs behind him.

Carlisle knocks on the door, realizing that the music had stopped when Rosalie came up. Another thing he hadn’t noticed.

There’s no answer from the other side of the door, aside from a small intake of breath.

“Edward?” Carlisle calls. “May I come in?”

Again, no response.

Carlisle pushes the door open cautiously, and sees Edward curled up on the floor under a heavy blanket. His tapes are spread around him, his headphones discarded on the floor and his tape player in one hand. He’s staring blankly at the wall, and doesn’t respond to Carlisle’s entrance.

“Edward?” Carlisle approaches slowly. “Are you alright?”

Slowly, Edward pulls the blanket over his face, hiding from Carlisle entirely.

“Do you not want to have a family evening? You don’t have to regress if you don’t feel like it. You can come read to your siblings, or you can stay here.” Carlisle knows that his worry must be clear to Edward, his words all but useless when Edward can read the flow of his thoughts. Even though the two of them are adept at voiceless conversation, especially in front of humans or even members of the family, Carlisle has always preferred to speak aloud when he’s alone with Edward. Still, he knows his mind is whirling with the questions he keeps unsaid. What happened? What’s wrong? How can I help?

The pile of blanket on the floor doesn’t move, giving Carlisle nothing to read.

“Do you want me to leave?” Carlisle asks, quietly enough that the family members downstairs wouldn’t be able to hear him.

Finally, a movement: a pale hand reaches towards Carlisle from under the blanket, splayed fingers in a wordless command. Don’t go.

“Alright.” Carlisle keeps his words voiceless, quiet enough that a human wouldn’t be able to hear. “I’ll stay.” He folds himself up and kneels next to Edward, and begins breathing to pass the time. The children downstairs are laughing about something, probably at Emmett’s expense if his angry reply is any indication. Esme is singing to Jasper, her voice drifting through the other noises. Esme’s voice was incredible when she was a human woman, and she has only improved since her death.

Carlisle quiets his mind, letting his awareness drift to the sensation of breath. Edward has often said that he enjoys being near Carlisle when he meditates, finding the relative calm of his thoughts a welcome break. Carlisle lets his worry drift freely in his mind, neither rejecting nor focusing on it. He can hear Edward beginning to match his breath, and he slows the rhythm further.

“I’m sorry,” Edward whispers.

Carlisle casts his eyes towards his hidden son, keeping his mind clear and restful. “Will you tell me what troubles you, Edward?”

“I can’t.” Edward pulls the blanket down and turns his face towards Carlisle.

Vampires are unable to cry, just as they are unable to eat or sleep. But they still remember what it was to cry, and Edward’s breath becomes shaky as their eyes meet, his face crumpling with the anticipation of tears that will never come again.

“Edward,” Carlisle breathes, his chest aching with the memory of what sympathy felt like when he was alive. “Please, may I hold you?”

Edward nods, stretching out his hand again, and Carlisle is beside him in less than a millisecond, lifting his son into his arms and cradling him close.

“What do you need, Edward?” he whispers against his son’s forehead. “I can deny you nothing.”

“Father,” Edward manages, and buries his face in Carlisle’s chest.

“My son,” Carlisle says, smoothing Edward’s hair back. “Hush, I’m here. My precious boy.” Edward’s body shakes with imagined sobs, and Carlisle continues his soft reassurances. “You’re alright. I’m here, Edward. You have me.” He focuses on the physical sensations: the weight of Edward against him, the silk of his hair under his fingers. The amount of fondness he feels for this boy, his son, his first family member, overwhelms him. He presses his forehead to Edward’s, cupping the boy’s cheeks.

“I love you,” he tells him.

“I know,” Edward says, bringing his hands up to mirror Carlisle’s. “Thank you.” His voice sounds broken.

Carlisle doesn’t know how long they sit there, fingers intertwined and foreheads pressed together. Edward’s breathing evens out, and the sounds from downstairs continue. Carlisle fills his mind with love and lets Edward drink in his unwavering affection, surrounding the two of them with contentment.

Finally, Edward takes a final deep breath and sits back on his heels, blinking his eyes.

Vampires are denied the emotional release of tears, and the emotional rest of sleep. They have no escape from awareness, and for those who feel their inhumanity as deeply as the Cullens, a deep fatigue sets in through the years. That’s why family night is so important, as well as the smaller distractions of sparring matches and baseball games. The fatigue eases for a while, when you are caring and being cared for. When things are simple, and easy.

“Can I be younger tonight?” Edward asks, finally seeming centered enough to ask the question that must have been weighing on him all day, if not longer.

“Of course,” Carlisle answers without hesitation. “How young?” You don’t need to know, he adds without words. We can always figure it out as we go.

“Like Jasper,” Edward says, and puts the ridge of his thumb into his mouth. “Is that okay?”

“Absolutely.” Carlisle offers a hand, and Edward clasps it tight. “Do you want to stay upstairs, or see your siblings?”

“Will they laugh?” Edward says quietly. It’s a fair question: the other Cullen siblings enjoy mocking Edward when they’re all adults, and Rosalie likes to make fun of the only older sibling when they’re small.

“They won’t laugh,” Carlisle answers in the same undertone. “I’m sure of it.”

“Then I’d like to be with them,” Edward nods.

“I’m sure your mother would love to see you,” Carlisle says, squeezing Edward’s hand. “Now, should we get you changed?”

Edward nods wordlessly, casting his eyes to the ground.

“Brave boy,” Carlisle praises, and gets to his feet, scooping Edward into his arms.

Edward flinches and wraps all of his limbs around Carlisle, making Carlisle laugh slightly. Such an extreme response when he’s seen Edward dive off cliffs with no hesitation. His boy must be very regressed already. No wonder Edward struggled so much to ask his question.

Carlisle sings one of his favourite lullabies as he carries Edward down the hallway to the boys’ room. Edward doesn’t wear very different clothes when he regresses, so he doesn’t have a regression closet. They’ll have to steal from the younger brothers for now, and find some new outfits for Edward later if this will be a repeated experience.  

Carlisle beelines for the dresser and scoops a pacifier from the back of one of the drawers. Jasper doesn’t use them, and the pacifier has lain unused since it was tried and rejected. Edward has been chewing on his thumb ever since Carlisle picked him up, and Carlisle has a feeling the abandoned pacifier might finally have a use. He presses the pacifier to Edward’s lips, gentle enough for it to be refused, and Edward accepts it.

“Good,” Carlisle says, pressing a kiss to Edward’s temple. “Now let’s get you changed.”

He sits Edward on the changing table, and the boy curls into himself slightly. Carlisle breezes past Edward’s uncertainty, moving through the familiar motions of disrobing him and fastening a diaper around his hips, patting the tape into place.

“Safe and sound,” Carlisle murmurs. “Would you like a shirt or pyjamas, sweetheart?”

Edward blinks up at him, and sucks on the pacifier.

“Pyjamas it is,” Carlisle says, unable to hide the fondness in his voice. He finds one of the darker onesies hanging in the closet and guides Edward’s limbs into it, patting the baby’s belly before doing up the buttons. Edward squirms a little, but more in amusement than in protest.

Carlisle chuckles at his reaction and scoops the boy back into his arms.

“Let’s go see your big brother and sisters, hmm?” he says to Edward. “I think they have some guppies on.” Edward usually hates sitting around when his siblings are watching cartoons, pretending to read a book somewhere apart or convince his siblings to gather around and listen to him read. But today he perks up at the mention of cartoons, eyes widening with interest.

“Do you want to sit with your mother?” Carlisle suggests, careful to hold Edward steady on his hip as they make their way down the stairs. “I’m sure she’d love to spend time with her baby boy.” Edward clings to Carlisle’s shoulders. “Ah, fair enough.” Carlisle can’t help smiling at the boy’s attachment, even though he’s sure that he’ll change his tune once he sees Esme.

“Hi daddy,” Alice calls distractedly when they enter. Emmett and Rosalie both glance up briefly from the screen and then return to their cartoons without comment. Edward is hiding his face in Carlisle’s neck, and Carlisle can feel the slight rocking of the pacifier as Edward gets the hang of sucking on it.

“Hello angels,” Carlisle replies, and makes his way to the couch behind the children, where Esme is sitting with Jasper cross-legged on the ground between her legs, his head leaning against Esme’s knee so that she can pet his hair while he watches the cartoons.

“Good to see you two,” Esme says quietly, under the noise of the cartoon. “I was worried.”

“This little one needed changing,” Carlisle says, sitting down and trying to rearrange Edward in his arms, who is still determinedly hiding against him. “Edward, come out and say hello to your mother,” he teases, flicking one finger against Edward’s neck.

Edward wiggles, displeased with the attempt to tickle him, and finally turns his face sideways.

Esme gasps softly. “Oh, darling boy.” She reaches out to cup Edward’s face, and the boy lets her. “Look at my baby.” Carlisle smiles at the two of them, as Edward shifts towards Esme on the couch and she helps him into her lap, careful not to dislodge Jasper’s place on the floor at her feet. “There, let me hold you,” Esme coos, pressing him against herself.

She would be crying, Carlisle reflects, if she were still able. There is something about Edward trusting them with this, after so long and so many siblings. They have spent so many decades together, physically unchanging, and yet they are still growing and learning about each other. It is an unimaginable gift from the universe, one that Carlisle will never take for granted.

As Edward smiles around the pacifier and Emmett yells something at the screen, Carlisle leans back on the couch and lets his gaze travel around his family, a serenity deeper than meditation settling in his chest. This is his family first, and his Clan second, and he would do absolutely anything to keep them safe.

[ayellowcurtain]

Could you write Elias’ POV of him noticing what’s going on between yasmina and younes? Like all the moments we haven’t seen where he noticed them like yesterday’s clip (Wednesday ) cause he kept looking at them and he also has already asked his sister twice if something is going on. I don’t know why but I believe he could really become the ‘ship captain’

Can you write about the ‘date’ on Friday he invited her to?

Part 2

Elias takes another bite of his bread. He’s not hungry but there’s the thing between Younes and Yasmina that he can’t really understand, so he’s buying himself more quiet time to watch.

Younes won’t stop staring, watching Yasmina quietly, and Elias is almost sure he doesn’t notice that he’s smiling.

Yasmina is a lot more careful, pretending she’s more interested in her food than in Younes but Elias already caught her looking back at him once or twice. Every time she was probably thinking Younes had found other things to look at, and she’s surprised to see him still looking so she rushes to look elsewhere.

Elias puts his bread back down on his plate, cleaning the corners of his mouth with a napkin to start getting this show on the road since nobody else will.

“If I’m gonna have to watch over you two, at the very least I should know what’s going on.”

Yasmina’s piercing stare makes him readjust his posture. No death stare will make him back down about this. Doesn’t matter if Yasmina acts like the older sister 99% of the time. Elias won’t let it happen about her possibly liking Younes and him liking her back.

Younes sits up straight too, looking at Yasmina, asking her how they’ll go about this through their mind games.

“You’re not watching anything, Elias.” Yasmina says in that very annoyed-Yasmina way.

“We’re all just friends hanging out.”

Elias looks at his friend, lifting one eyebrow. “Really? Like we would hang out with the Riders?”

Younes opens and closes his mouth, and he can’t help but check with Yasmina for a split second again before going back to drinking his iced tea.

If it was up to Elias, Younes and Yasmina could get together, no problem. Younes is the kindest person Elias knows, and it’s no secret Yasmina needs someone as calm as Younes to balance her attitude. But it’s not his choice to make, and he’s just the older brother. The conversation might be a lot more serious with their parents.

“When it’s the marriage?” He relaxes against the back of his chair, squeezing the back of Younes’ neck. Younes lifts his shoulders, pulling Elias’ hand away from his neck.

“Stop, bro. You’re making your sister uncomfortable.”

Elias laughs, covering Younes’ eyes to see if he’ll stop stealing glances at Yasmina.

“Stop checking with her to see if the two stories match then.” Elias grabs his glass, drinking a little bit of his water. “You guys suck at hiding whatever is going on. So I would advise to just put it out already or drop it if any of you have any doubts.”

Younes laughs, looking at him. “Since when are you a relationship advisor?”

Yasmina looks at him too and they both laugh at Elias.

“Yeah. Since when do you have any experience on that subject?”

Elias sighs, brushing his hands together to get rid of all the bread crumbs still left.

“Look, we’re moving somewhere, yeah? I never mentioned anything about a relationship…”

Yasmina rolls her eyes, drinking her red juice. Younes leans against his chair too like he’s slowly turning to Elias’ team, happy to have a final answer or not from Yasmina.

“I can be a huge help! I’m sure our parents won’t complain if we all hang out together a few times a week. And I can play basketball while you guys talk. You should be on board with that.”

He points to his sister. He’s seen the way Yasmina is always around these days, suddenly interested in Elias’ hobbies, but now he knows it wasn’t for him. He’s known for a while but now he’s sure about who it is. It could be any of the boys, but obviously Yasmina would pick the perfect guy.

They exchange some looks again, and Elias continues. “I can sit a chair or two away from you when you go to the movies...”

“Yasmina doesn’t like the movies.”

Elias looks at his little sister, noticing the change in the tone Younes is using, a little more playful, and flirty even, and he catches the little shake of her head to Younes and his smile.

“Did something happen at the movies, Younes?”

He looks at Elias in surprise, frowning.

“No, bro! Nothing happened.” Younes answers right away, hurt that Elias had to even ask, and he is about to add something when Yasmina explains.

“He went with Aïsha.”

Elias nods his head, collecting all the pieces of the puzzle again, rearranging everything to see where it all fits. Yasmina is clearly bitter about the movies, but Elias is very, completely sure - hoping they don’t ask how - Aïsha is just a friend but he can’t miss the opportunity.

“So you’re a player now?” He crosses his arms against his chest and Younes opens his mouth and arms, dropping them against his sides.

“What the fuck?! I’m not a player. She’s a friend, Yasmina said she had better things to do with her friends.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“But that's how it sounded.”

Elias is starting to actually feel weird sitting here, with the two of them. They actually like each other, and there’s actually something going on already. He thought it was purely platonic still. He sits up straight, not as tense, looking at Younes, the way he looks at his sister. Elias genuinely likes the guy, thinks he’s one of the best there is but still. Yasmina is his little sister.

“So...you’re dating?”

“No.” Yasmina answers right away like the question is absurd. So Elias turns to Younes.

“And you two want to date?”

Younes stutters again, quietly looking at Yasmina again.

“Why are you looking at me?” Younes takes a deep breath in, exhaling as he explains. “Your sister wants to finish her studies, at least school. Then we’ll talk.”

Elias looks at her. “Is that true?”

Yasmina doesn’t think too much about it this time like she was doing before, always finding a way to correct the facts. She looks at Younes the way he was doing with her before, like they’re checking with each other if it’s okay to say what they’re about to say.

“Yes…I can’t think about this right this second, but yes.”

“So you like him too?”

She does it again, looking at Younes, and Elias can hear the boys’ smile.

“Yes. And it’s not like I need your approval to like him, okay?”

She looks at Elias and he sighs, trying to keep the protective big brother attitude to his sister too.

“Okay, calm down! You don’t need it but, in one way or another, you’re sort of asking me if he’s an okay guy for months now.”

“What?!” Younes frowns, surprised, looking at them.

“Yeah, bro. She asked me about you a hundred times.”

Younes smiles, happy to have more information, and Elias sees Yasmina blushing, finishing her bowl of food.

[thadelightfulone]

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 5

November 21st - Part 2

Erik’s tablet chimed as he finished up the dishes. He set aside the leftovers for later and went to see what DeeDee had to say.

He roared with laughter at how she ended the email. Why was she so stuck on finding out if he found the love he described? Her curiosity tickled him and now he had to decide how to navigate this conversation away from that kind of talk. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about the non-existent once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that he wanted. But how do you explain to someone how you never felt you deserved it, so you never went looking for it? And therefore, you don’t have it. 

Erik sighed and reached for something stronger than water to drink. 

He took the tablet, the bottle and glass into the living room. He took a seat on the couch and cracked his knuckles and began to write his response for the Curious DeeDee. Erik shook his head and laughed again. 

Erik hoped this would be enough to get DeeDee away from asking again, but something told him it wasn’t over.

---

DeeDee had devoured half of the pizza and the bottle of wine. She went to her room to  change out of her cleaning clothes into her favorite hoodie and a pair of yoga pants. 

Her laptop went off when she returned from the back, and DeeDee jumped onto her couch in excitement. She couldn’t wait to find out that he found his true life long love. 

If she couldn’t find it for herself, there was no reason for her to not want that for everyone else. Live vicariously through her new friend, Erik. Wait, could she consider him a friend? She scrunched her face at that rude thought and opened his email.

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Hi Dee Dee,

I know you know I meant science, but I will answer one of those questions to quell your curiosity. I, also, commend you for pursuing your doctorate, and in advanced chemistry, no less. 

So, it’s kind of a funny story, but I never meant to leave it in there. 

Fun fact about the note, it is much older than you think. I was a civil engineering major during undergrad, when I originally wrote that note and left it in the book. 

It happened when I was returning all my checked out books from the library. I was getting ready to move and needed to get them all in to avoid any replacement fees that would have prevented the conferral of my doctoral degree. So, I turned all of those books in without checking them. Which was definitely out of character for me. Especially since I lived by all my written notes for both class and research. 

I discovered it was missing when I went to look for it after the move. I knew exactly where it was, but I knew I wouldn’t be going back to get it. So, it was just out there. Besides, I knew what it said by heart, so it was fine.  

I will tell you I never expected to be discussing it years later though. It has been a very pleasant surprise.

Thank you,

E

“Of course, he would avoid the damn question.” She huffed out and poured another glass. It should not be that hard to answer, either he found it or is still in search of it. DeeDee’s hand stilled as she brought it to her lips. Nope, not going there tonight. She took a long drink of her wine.

She set the glass down, drew up her legs and crossed them before settling the computer on her lap. In a flurry, DeeDee’s fingers danced across her keyboard as she wrote her response. The alcohol heated her up to match her current mood. 

---

Erik was chilling, in a half-assed attempt to watch the movie playing on TV. He had turned the volume down because the woman’s high pitched tone was grating on his nerves. He set the whiskey down on his coffee table and leaned back with his feet propped up and closed his eyes. 

The easily recognizable email alert stirred him. Oh, she had time. It had only been about 20 minutes since he sent the last email. He sat up and opened up the email. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mr. Erik, 

So, you really aren’t going to answer that other question? Ok, that’s fine. I’ll let it slide for now.

Thank you for that. I have always wanted to work in the science field and I found toxicology while I was working on my Bachelors. I enjoy it and definitely appreciate having Dr. O as my mentor. 

That is an interesting story. The one time you lost control and you left something like the note behind. Well, I guess it is just my luck that I found it and decided to look for you, huh? Oh, and you’re welcome. 

What do you do now? I know you aren’t working in a lab or researching much anymore.  

I read a little bit about you but I don’t know much about the work that the Wakandan Outreach Centers do. I would love to hear about it.

DeeDee 

“That’s right. Quis, did say she was one of his students.” Then why was he worried about the person being a stalker. Erik set the tablet down and reached for his cell to text him. 

Erik: Quis, why were you worried about DeeDee?

Quis: What? 

Erik: About stalker potential?

Quis: Man, I didn’t even know it was her until she came and showed me a picture.

Erik: What picture?

Quis: Our Grad Student of the Year picture from the front of the Southern Digest.

Erik nodded his head, “So, Miss DeeDee knows what I look like. Or what I looked like.”

Quis: Everything good, man. 

Erik: Yeah, yeah. Just wanted a little background, can’t be too sure of people asking for help these days.  

Quis: DeeDee could never stoop to Karina’s level. She’s safe. 

“The hell, she is.” Erik picked up his glass and took a sip. “This woman is becoming more dangerous, as we speak.”

Quis: So, I take it that you can be of use to her?

Erik: Uh yeah, she is very sharp. 

Quis: You have no idea.

Erik: Thanks again. Oh, and I got the email, so I’m making plans now. 

Quis: Great. Later, man.

“If Marquis vouched for her, then I have nothing to worry about.”

Erik dropped his phone back onto the couch and picked up the tablet. 

“Here goes nothing.”

--- 

DeeDee was on Spotify. She picked a list at random and let the music take her away. She was slowly bodyrolling to Rome Flynn’s ‘Keep Me In Mind’ with a refreshed glass in hand, when her phone blinked. She walked over to it and saw that Erik had sent another email. She took a sip and picked up her phone to open his reply. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

DeeDee,

How did I go from Erik to Mister? 

I guess if you get to know me better than maybe you would find out the answer to your question. 

But you are right. I tend to have a tight rein on things, it has always been that way. So, when I lost the note, I was irritated before I realized it wasn’t going to matter in the long run. But it appears to have landed in exceptional hands. *winks*

Well, I am in the family business. My family started the Wakandan Outreach Centers. The first one was opened up here in Oakland. I am the Director of Operations for it and all the Centers on the West Coast.

My first love will always be science. So, although, I may not be active in the field according to your definition. I still use everything I learned and conduct research with my cousins on a regular basis.

Since you know so much about me. Tell me something about DeeDee. Like how much longer do you have to complete your doctorate? 

Mr. Erik

“Does he think that wink is gonna work on me?” DeeDee hid her smile behind the glass. “Damnit.” 

She locked up the phone and walked back to her couch. DeeDee traded devices and picked up her laptop to reply to Erik. 

“You don’t get to wink at me and then wash over the topic again.” 

DeeDee pressed down hard on each key as she typed. She admired the fact that his family was close enough to work together on something as big as the successful operation of multiple Outreach Centers across the U.S. But she would not rest until he answered her. 

“You aren’t cute, Mr. Erik.” She glanced over to the notebook, where the newspaper clipping of him and Dr. O was folded up inside. She recalled some dimples and a bright smile. He definitely towered over her 5’4 frame. He stood at least 2-3 inches taller than Dr. O, and she had to look up at him all the time. “Yeah, you not that cute.”

She clapped her hands and hit the ‘send’ button. Her phone went off. She saw Beverly sent something in the group chat.

Bev: Dinner and the club, tonight?

Phyll: You know I’m down. 

DeeDee: No thanks. I’m covered for the rest of the year.

Bev: Come on, DeeDee. 

DeeDee: Phyll, don’t you have work?

Phyll: Don’t try to change the subject, Dee. 

Bev: You ain’t doing nothing important. It’s not like you have something to study for anymore.

DeeDee looked at her computer. “Come on, Erik. Give me a reason to stay home tonight.”

---

Erik just brought the glass to his lips when the tablet alerted him to another email. So, they were really doing this tonight? Back and forth emails in real time. He doesn’t even remember the last time, he looked forward to hearing from someone. It had been a while since someone had his attention like that. And after a few simple emails, he found that DeeDee squirmed her way into that space. 

“What’s up Miss DeeDee?” He opened the email, “Ready to share?”

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mister Erik, 

*pouts* Fine. I don’t know why you can’t just answer the question now, but ok. 

That is wonderful. Sounds like the family business is treating you well. And you are enjoying what you do. That is all I want from my career. I want to do research and teach others. It’s a growing field so if we can get more men and women of color into STEM careers, I am here for it. 

Something about me -- I’m an only child and a legacy student. Both of my parents attended Southern. In fact, it’s where they met all those years ago. And I like to read...like I can read anything and get lost in someone else’s world for hours.

But this is hopefully my final semester, I am preparing to defend my dissertation next month. Wish me luck!  

DeeDee

“Her parents met at Southern?” Erik put the tablet down and walked over to his fireplace. He picked up the center picture from the mantle and closed his eyes briefly.  Two people were standing together in front of a large building. He rubbed his fingers over the top of the image of his parents. It read John B. Cade, it was the library at Southern University. Where his parents met and fell in love. 

Erik took a deep breath and put the picture back up. He stood there and looked at the tablet.

“Is it possible that she could be?” He shook his head before he went down that road. The image of the last woman he thought could be his one and only flashed across his mind. He groaned out. Erik walked over to the couch and grabbed the tablet. “Only one way to find out.”

Taglist: @teakturn​​ @ghostfacekill-monger​​ @shaekingshitup​​ @nahimjustfeelingit-writes​​ @woahitslucyylu​​ @ladymac82​​ @bugngiz​​ @eyeknowmywrites​​ @ajspencer1892​​ @arafatih​​ @issimplyaamazinggg​​ @tchallasbabymama​​

[solitaria-fantasma]

Um for the Super Ghost AU I am just imagining that The Question managed to figure out basically everything about Gawain and the Mystery Skulls, but instead of it being his paranoia getting to him it's because he accidentally learned Gawain was a ghost, wanted to learn why he's a ghost and then he was going down the rabbit hole and by the time he climbed out of it he's just wondering what is Gawain's life, unlife, whatever and the life of his brother. Just, this came to me and refused to leave.

((*cracks knuckles*))

Question hadn't seen sunlight for nearly six days, and it had finally paid off.

He leaned over his hands on the edge of the desk, staring at the pin board before him. It was crisscrossed with color coded strands of yarn, and little push pins that held up photographs, newspaper and magazine clippings, and printed Internet screenshots. It wasn't the most complicated web he'd ever built, but it tied up neatly, and that was enough. Not every mystery had a a million twists to unwind.

The trail started in London, England, and stretched all the way across the Atlantic to a tiny town in Texas, USA, barely large enough to be a speck on a map. He had birth records, school enrollment records, science fair awards, promotions, Visa applications, mortgages, home appliance purchases, swing dance trophies, company picnic photos, a missing person's report, and an obituary, all leading to a giant question mark scribbled over a photo of a young blond man, with the word 'whereabouts?' written beneath it.

This photo connected to the next item in the chain with a quick arrow of blue, and another long, arching arrow connected a birth record from earlier in this leg to the same thing - a newspaper article from that small Texas town, talking about the mysterious case of a young boy with amnesia being found on the steps of a local restaurant. There was an article about the boy's adoption just a few months later, and then another article congratulating three local kids and their dog for solving a small time mystery.

The chain ran through several articles like this one, and the kids grew older as their mysteries evolved from misplaced mail and lost pets to package theft, poltergeist activity, and cryptid sightings. More and more, the articles talked about ghosts, creatures of urban legend, and even sightings of demons and occult activity. Around 2008, the newspaper articles became printed blog posts, and seemed to be written by the kids themselves.

Question laughed quietly to himself. Kids after his own paranoid heart, all three.

The articles came to an abrupt halt in 2014, with a missing persons report for the amnesiac boy (now an adult), and a series of articles about a groundbreaking prosthetic limb, developed by a genius young man who tested his prototype on himself after tragically loosing his own arm. There were a few more articles about the prosthetic, and a few photos to go along with them that showed the blond man from previous articles, and then there were a few clippings of local tabloids from a truck driver who swore he'd been carjacked by 'a flaming skeleton with great fashion sense'.

There was silence for a month or two, and then concurrent newspaper articles and blog posts about the miraculous return of one Lewis Pepper, thought to be dead from the same tragic caving accident that cost his best friend his arm. The blog posts about the supernatural returned, and the prosthesis research seemed to slow down. Coincidentally, a young man named 'Merlin Knight' with an eerily familiar face was hired at the local auto shop.

Question wondered if the entire town was playing dumb, or just stupid. The only real change was the clothing, and that long blond hair being braided.

This employment record connected all the way back to the obituary from the first leg of the chain, and proceeded on to connect with screenshots from a social media account of a robotic body, and the building of what would be, within a few month's time, the town's own local hero.

Question breathed out through his nose. A local hero who would go on to help save the world, and found the Justice League itself. Had that been part of the plan?

The web wrapped itself up quickly from there. Supernatural skills and abilities not possible by modern science, knowledge of other realms and creatures only known to mythology, and the tiny little clues he'd been hoarding and observing for a full year all pointed to the same conclusion. It wasn't as fantastical as it sounded, in all honesty, though Green Arrow had looked at him stranger than usual when he'd first said his conclusion out loud.

There were legitimate aliens, sorcerers, and demons in this reality - why not ghosts, too?

There was one final piece missing from the web, however, and he was out of clues to tie in. There was a near twenty year gap between the last known sighting of Gawain Kingsmen, and the appearance of 'Merlin Knight'. What had the man been doing for all that time? There had been no sightings of anyone even remotely matching the appearance of Gawain or 'Merlin' anywhere in that time, and without even the slightest whisper of a rumor on an Internet forum or library archive, there wasn't much more he could do to find out.

Question straightened up from the desk, and rolled his shoulders to try and stretch them out. There was no way around it.

He was going to have to get more...direct from here on out.

.......

"What does a dead man do for twenty years?" Gawain froze with a potato wedge half-raised to his shoulder at the question, and Bran - unwilling to wait for her snack - leaned her head down to snatch it up anyway. Gawain turned his yellow LED eyes over to Question, who had planted himself in the chair across the table without so much of a 'hello', and tilted his head.

"...I'm sorry," He apologized. "But I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"I know you do." Question leaned one elbow on the table. Bran nudged Gawain's still-raised hand, hoping for more potatoes, and the hero absently picked up another wedge to feed to her. "I know most people believe the 'advanced AI' cover story, but I'm not most people. I know you're a ghost possessing an armored suit like that old anime." The potato wedge vanished, and Question wondered if the little ghost was actually eating it, or just storing it for later.

That was a mystery for another time, regardless.

Gawain had turned to face him fully, now, and his two other ghostly companions were now peeking out of hiding from behind his shoulders. They weren't hostile, but their stares were, nonetheless, intense, and Question smiled behind his mask. He knew he had their full attention, now.

"How did you find out?" Gawain asked, keeping his voice low.

"I saw you from the ground in that fight with Mr. Sorcerer Superior, Magnus Creed." Question replied. "You ran into that warding slip like a bird into a clean window. A robot wouldn't have been stopped by mere paper and superstition." Gawain tilted his head slightly to one side.

"Some superstitions hurt." He argued, just the slightest bit defensive. "...what was your question, again?"

"What does a dead man do for twenty years?" Question asked. "There's a two decade gap between your presumed death and your reappearance. You could stand to work on that secret identity, by the way." He advised. "Someone's going to notice your resemblance to a dead guy from twenty years ago, if you ever let down your hair." Gawain's LED eyes narrowed, and one of the spirits - Chopper, the one with the upright spines - hissed in response.

Vixen walked by with John Stewart at her side, and both Chopper and Gawain made a visible effort to drop any outward signs of irritation. Question remained where he was. People were used to seeing him tense and suspicious, by now. It wouldn't raise a single eyebrow.

"...I was lost." Gawain spoke up quietly once Vixen and John had passed out of earshot. "I woke up in the middle of an unfamiliar forest, and I just couldn't get out. Not for a while."

"You were lost in a forest for twenty years?" Even Question sounded skeptical. "I've seen what you're capable of. You should have been able to handle a little thing like being lost."

"It was ten years," Gawain retorted sharply. Bran raided his plate for the remaining potato wedges. "And I wasn't just...born being able to do that stuff. I had to grow into it. I had to learn." A strange gust of air blew past the table, scattering someone's forgotten paper plate and napkin to the floor, before Gawain unclenched his fists, and visibly calmed down. Question still didn't move.

"Death...does things to you." Gawain lowered his voice again. "To your mind. You can't think straight for...a long time - and that's if you're lucky." He lowered his hands to the table, and Bran automatically wound herself around one arm with a pleased sound. "I found my way out of the forest after ten yes, and then I went...home. To Tempo."

"Your parents had moved away by then." Question knew. He knew how the story of the living family had played out, from there. "Your brother was living with your uncle, and your friends were off at college." Gawain's shoulders drooped, and the third spirit - Griflet, if he remembered right - patted at the side of his helmet sympathetically. Chopper was still glaring at him.

"They had." Gawain made no effort to hide the disappointment in his voice. "I guess I couldn't fault them for not wanting to stay in town after all they went through, but back then, I didn't know it had been ten years. It only felt like a few days, to me."

"That must have been difficult." Question said, and he meant it. Sympathy wasn't really his thing, but Gawain was being cooperative, so it was the least he could do. "And the other ten?"

"I was hiding." Gawain laughed humorlessly. "I somehow convinced myself that my family-...that my brother, and my uncle, would be afraid of me, if they saw me like that, and I just...never came forward." He shrugged. "I just sort of watched, and listened, and followed them for another ten years, and I thought that was pretty good, you know?

"I couldn't interact with them, sure, but at least I could still see them. It was...better than nothing." The hero fell silent, for a few moments, and then looked Question in the eye. Or...as close as he could get. The featureless mask tended to throw off people's frame of reference for facial features. "What are you going to do now?"

"Absolutely nothing." Question casually leaned back in his own chair. "I've already put the pieces together. This was just the last piece I needed to finish the story." He stood up, and pushed the chair in under the table. "This time, I just wanted to satisfy my own curiosity." Gawain seemed surprised, and remained sitting as Question walked out of the cafeteria.

He could feel four pairs of eyes burning into his back, but for once, being watched didn't bother him. Curiosity killed the cat, they said, but satisfaction brought it back, and Question was very much satisfied with this answer.

Now, he could focus on more important matters...like the long-ignored connection between Girl Scout cookie sales and the appearance of crop circles in Midwest America.

[herald-divine-hell]

Moonlight Upon Shadow

A/N: Did Herald actually write something that has to do with an AU? Dastardly, I say. It’s mainly just fluff and Leli thirsting for Avvar Amayian, but this was stuck in my head for a while.

Silver light from moon and star played about the darken lake, ripples of light shivering across the shadow-filled blue, the gray stone-clattered floor glittering like gems in stone. Misting breath puffed streamers into the air, up into the pool of star-speckled night, clouds glittering white-gold by the tiny moons as they strolled slowly across the skies. High winds whistled gently above the glade, rustling bare branches and quivering moss and vines on the great walls of rounded stones that facing toward the encircling dark forest. Moonlight dripped tears of white over the paling green-crowned gray stone, brightening the light crust of snow, crunching beneath her feet as Leliana shifted, drawing her arms tighter around her. She fought back a shiver. Though the wind was high, those that reared down had winter’s bite, cutting through her leathers with blades sharper than steel and colder than ice. 

“You are cold,” a voice at her side whispered, though it ran across the silent glade like thunder in a night sky. 

Leliana glanced toward the voice, hiding a grimace within herself as her eyes trailed up to stare at the mountain of a man. Silver-white trickled down thick dark locks, some knotted tight in large braids, falling past his shoulders. A well-oiled braided-beard glittered with streaks of silver, some peppering his black hair. Despite the silver, he could not have been older than a man of twenty-six, but the wrinkles at his eyes, the faint gauntness at his cheeks made him seem older. High cheekbones reared from a chiseled face like one carved off a mountain’s cliffside, with the coldness and hardness of one, too. An icy glare burned in his almond-shaped, tilted silver eyes, glowing bright by moonlight. He was tall, as tall as a Qunari; Leliana only reached up to the underside of his chest. Broad-shoulders ran down to thickly-corded muscles, as strong as a bull and as thick as a tree trunk. The long, jagged blade, thick near the hilt and thinning with a clean cut and sharp point, was made of ice, enchanted with a constant misting of white pooling off it. Light and shadow ran across the surface of the blade in ripples, the blue darkening and lightening like a sky. A great white bear fur cloak covered his massive shoulders, his long braid thrown over a shoulder, falling near his hip. A remnant of snow frosted his locks. He made no move to melt it. And Leliana did her best to ignore the coarse covering of black chest hair, whispering of warmth, sliced with a long ravine of a scar, crawling down his right shoulder to his waist in a slash. 

She wanted to say no, but she remained quiet, leather-gloved fingers tightening around her arms as she drew into herself. Amayian Summer-Breaker was as frigid as the mountains he took as his rule. It made sense. Leliana knew he did not hail from the Frostbacks. A tilt of an accent whispered of the Marcher cities to the north, his name bearing one of an ancient Lord of Ostwick. How he got here and how did he become the Thane of Thanes was something Leliana was not quite sure. And she did not like not knowing. Perhaps that was why she joined him on this hunt, to learn more about the Inquisition’s new ally. What she had so far could count as little more than crumbs from a breadbasket. The man was as talkative as the cliffs near the lake; and somehow Leliana knew she would have gotten more from them than the Avvar. 

But it was necessary, was it not? she thought. No one truly knew the Shadow-Walker. He took control of a small tribe and united all the others, either by bloodshed or by deeds or by words. And that was all that was important. Important to him, anyway. Who cared about the past when the present is what needed to be focused on? The past held secrets, however, and secrets was Leliana’s song. 

“We will have to continue the hunt after the snow melts,” said the Thane, tilting his head up, the war-paint marked curved nose twisted as he sniffed the air. “Another storm is coming, and we need rest.” He glanced down, icy daggers melting to winter winds in those eyes. “Come.” He turned and marched on, long strides carrying him where Leliana would need six more to match. 

With his broad back faced away from her, Leliana allowed the grimace to crawl over her face. She was half-of-mind to find another shelter for her to take, as she watched Shadow-Walker strode toward the cliffs, a large hand resting on stone. Lines of blue light flecked up, vining in circles and sharp turns  before the wall creaked up with a low groan. “Come,” he called again, neither a command nor a question. 

Muscles bundling at her jaw, shivering as another wind drifted down from the pitchy skies, bringing another burst of brittle bites, she followed, snow and frosted grass crunching and echoing with her steps.

Warmth rushed so heavily and quickly, another burst of shivers rackled through Leliana’s body. Amber light blossomed like sunlight at dawn, and she blinked the tears welling in her eyes away. 

As her eyes adjusted, she found her slightly impressed by the sight. The cave was large and spacious, necessary for the Thane’s great height. A small long table marched at a side, with high-backed stone chains cushioned by wolf fur. Scones of blue-gray ice burned with silver-tipped amber fire. At the center, a golden-scarlet fire roared on stone slabs, lit a life by magic, shimmering the stones beneath in a soft sheen. 

At the far back, a raised platform was covered in pelts, from bears to wolves, some folded on top of one another to serve as make-shift pillows. Some seemed to have been knitted to be actual pillows by the Thane. The wall curved into an alcove, a deep pit that could fit seven Lelianas pressed side to side all the way to the edge of the raised platform. Far big enough for the Thane to lay in. More than enough for Leliana. Tiredness tugged at her bones at the sight, the warmth flooding her lips in drowsiness. 

Amayian was patting the clothes down, fluffing the pillows, before turning back to Leliana. “You are still shivering.” His fingers went to the emerald gem broach at his wide chest, unclasping it. Tugging it off, he flung it easily around her shoulders. It was large enough that it obscured her body from view. It smelt faintly of the man, of a sweet burning fire. And it was warm, too, still clinging to the warmth of the Thane. 

“Thank you,” said Leliana, beginning to shrug it off. “But I do not need it—” 

Large hands clasped around hers. Even with the gloves on, heat burned off him those collapsed palms and fingers. Gently, he tugged it back into place, a stubbornness frosting his hard stare. “No,” he said, voice clipped like ice and hard as stone. “You need this more than I.” He turned and pointed with his head. “You will sleep there.” Nodding, as if that was the end of the argument, he walked to a part of the stone walls, opposite the table. Reaching another hand to the wall, it shivered and groaned as it lifted up, a line of silver falling the length of a jagged-cut bolder. “There is a little pond where you can bathe, if you wish. I have some pelts you could use while your clothes dry. I will deal with that.”

Warmth tickled Leliana’s cheeks as her brows furrowed. “That is all well and good, but where will you be sleeping, exactly?”

“I will fashion myself another bed to sleep on.” He pointed toward another wall. “It will not take long, enough of a time for you to bathe.” His eyes glossed over her head, gaze fixated at the doorway that slammed shut behind her, cutting off the cold, dying wind from the heat-filled cave. “Tomorrow I will go find us some food.” 

Arms crossing beneath the heavy, warm fur cloak, Leliana dipped her hip to the side. “And I have your word that you will do nothing besides what you afford.”

His hand crossed over his chest, fingers twisting in an ancient Avvar manner that spoke of a promise over his broad-chest, to die if broken. “You have my word, Nightingale Sister.” 

The sternness of his eyes told her that she would not worry about that oath breaking; so, reluctantly, she gave a nod and walked toward the opened pathway to the in-cave lake. Her steps echoed in the high-ceiling cave, jagged points glistening like teeth overhead, and she passed Summer-Breaker, that scent of sweetly burning wood and its warmth filled her. “How will you know if dawn came?”

Without the cloak, she could freely see his broad shoulders, his heavy muscles, his wide chest covered in warpaint and scars and hair. Scars littered his hard face, cutting like dashes of white warpaint, some wide, others thinned. It gave him a darker, harder look. But the touch of scarlet and gold splattered like sunlight fluttering across a frozen lake, softening its chilled stare. Amber softly melted the hardness, an under touch of ruby burning his copper skin. “There are other pathways I know that lead to the top of the cliffs we are under. I will check in the morning, and wake you if you wish to join the hunt.”

Despite herself, Leliana smiled, as she tugged the cloak harder around her. “I will like that, Thane.”

He nodded and turned away from her, striding to the other wall, and another loud groan and he was swallowed by the spit of darkness, only a faint whisper of blue light and the hiss of melting stone gave answer that he still lived. Flutters of fire echoed from the pathway, amber spilling out like water from the widening corridor. 

Well, I got something, at least. This cave was old, which meant Amayian had lived here for a long while, before he became Avvar. He treated each wall he touched with delicacy, as if recalling past memories. How many other such caves existed, ones he knew like the back of his hand? Perhaps tomorrow more news will slither out, more signs for Leliana to decipher, secrets for her to unravel.

And she truly did enjoy unraveling secrets. 

[ivypivvy]

What they did to you (Mileven)

Mike woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. He looked to his left and saw the flashing color of his alarm clock. '3:45 a.m.' it read. He sighed, sitting up. The moon shone through his window brightly, giving the room a soft glow. Boxes stacked in corners, clothes all over the room, El sleeping peacefully next to him.

The two had just moved into a small house on cherry lane. Their friends had helped them move out and in, Max and Dustin helping El while Lucas and Will helped Mike. They all painted the house together, getting more paint on themselves than the walls. Mike and El sent their friends home, saying they're gonna be fine and that Max lives right next door.

The raven-haired boy sighed, getting out of bed carefully. He tip-toed to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of whatever. Deciding to clean up the place a little, he walked to their small living room and began to unpack some boxes. They had their basic furniture so far. A queen size bed, gifted to them by Joyce and Hopper, two night stands from Steve, a nice couch from Mike's basement, beautiful sea shells to decorate the house with from Max, a coffee table from Dustin and his mom, artwork from Will, a small old TV from the Sinclairs, and silverware from Nancy and Jonathan. Robin, now being a successful real estate agent, had gotten them the house. They owe it all to her.

Mike just finished unpacking the four boxes of seashells, 'Jesus how many seashells does one person need?!' He bet she had more, had probably even given them more. Makes sense, they all got o California every weekend.

Mike looked around the room, it looked finished. There was one box in the corner that didn't have a name. His brows furrowed as he walked closer to the box, sitting on his knees. He opened it carefully, a bunch of manilla folders stamped with a Hawkins National Laboratory stamp. 'I've never seen these before,' he thought. 'Maybe they're about what happened to us?'

He opened the first one, the first paper was dated October 25th, 1971. 'El's birthday,' he thought. There was a picture of a small baby clipped to page.

'Jane Ives,' he read. El's birth name. Why would they have her birth name? Under it were the number 011in black, bold handwriting. 'El's files.'

The first file had stated what she was, who she was, who she was taken from, what she would be used for, what powers she had. It never said why she was taken, though, but it seems explainable. He opened the second folder, the picture showed El around age six. She looked tired and had short, almost blonde, hair. She was wearing something that looked like a school uniform while playing with blocks. It was dated April 16th, 1977.

'Subject Eleven has been very obedient, doing what she is told. Does not do it well though, we often have to isolate her.'

Isolate? She's a child! Mike shook his head, sitting on the chair next to the box. He pulled out the next folder, looking at the picture. She appeared to be older, her hair fully shaven. 'October 18th, 1980.' She was nine years old. Three years before he found her. This folder was thicker, had many pictures. She had bruising around her wrists, wip marks on her back, and burn marks around her arms and collarbone. Mike put a hand to his mouth, tears filling his eyes.

He opened the final folder, gasping at the pictures. This was a little before she had escaped. She looked deathly skinny, nails bitten to the bud, skin peeled and scratched at, wip marks more visible, and thousands of bruises. She was as pale as a ghost. Could rob Max of all her money if she had the chance. He started to read it.

'Subject Eleven is not complying with our demands. We had to take extreme measures to put her in place.'

ISOLATION

WIPPING

SHOCKING

RA-

He stood up in shock, crying out when he read the last word. The folder fell to the floor gently as he cried. 'Does Hop know about this?'

****

El woke up to an empty bed. She sighed looking at the alarm clock, which now read '4:26 a.m.' She sat up, yawning and stretching her arms out. She slipped on her fuzzy, pink slippers with her matching robe as she made her way to the livingroom. She walked over to Mike, which back was turned to her, and wrapped her arms around his torso, resting her head on his back. "What're you doing up so late?" She mumbled tiredly. He turned around, wrapping her in a hug. "Why did you tell me?" He cried, holding her tightly. She looked up at him, confusion written on her face, when her eyes landed on a opened box. He found her files. She teared up, looking at him. She shook her head, pulling away from the hug. "It was nothing Mikey, I- it was a long time ago okay? It doesn't matter anymore. Come on, I'm tired can we go-"

"It does matter El. It happened and it shouldn't have. God why didn't you tell me."

El looked at him with sad eyes, before placing a hand on his cheek. She wiped his tears, getting on her tipy-toes to reach his forehead where she planted a soft kiss. "I'm okay, I promise. I have you and all our friends now. I'm not going back, I never will."

He held her wrist gently, keeping her hand on his face. He nodded, trying to control the tears that were seeping from his shut eyes. She gave him a soft kiss before leading them back to their bedroom.

[girlpornparadise]

When it Rains it Pours

Pairing: Esteban/f!Reader (There is a New World Somewhere - Maurice Compte)

Word Count: all ~2500 I know

Smut warning: IT'S SMUT! SMUTTY SMUTTY SMUT SMUT. If you want the specifics, ya just gotta read it.

Personal ramble: Ok, I haven't written fanfic in over 20 years people! But I'm absolutely parched and needed this in my life.

I blame @nicke0115 for posting that Ricky and Melinda clip I had totally forgotten about and putting mad "Maurice Compte in a motel room" thoughts in my head.

I also blame @damndamer0n for watching There is a New World Somewhere and prompting me to rewatch my favourite "look at me" scene, causing to melt in a puddle on my bedroom floor.

And I especially blame @pedropasscals for egging me on and trying to convince me I could write something.

My fragile ass is not accepting constructive criticism, but will take condescending pat's on the head of "there, there, you tried."

You walk into the diner and as the doors close behind you, the sound of rain is muffled. You sidle up to the counter and rest your bag on the empty stool to your right. Water squeezes out of it like a sponge and begins to drip onto the floor. You'd feel guilty about the mess if you yourself weren't exhausted and soaked through too.

The older waitress walks over and though unimpressed with the mess you've made, looks at you with a glimmer of pity. 

"What can I get ya?"

"Coffee, black."

You feel a slight rumble in your stomach, but you don't have the cash to do anything about it at the moment. This wasn't planned, you'd had to leave in a hurry. The coffee would have to do, and it would hopefully take the edge off the chill your soaked frame was feeling.

The kind stranger had let you off a half mile back at the fork, and you were forced to walk the remaining distance to the brightly lit diner. Though grateful for the ride, you cursed the unexpected downpour that caught you a few minutes after leaving the car.

You look up to your left and one stool over sits a man with dark hair and tanned skin. His features are strong and highlighted by his slightly greying facial hair. He sits with his hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. They look warm. 

He looks over at you and sees your dripping hair and your grey t-shirt clinging to your shoulders like a wrinkly second skin. You cock a half hearted smile at him and start to look down when you shiver involuntarily. 

"Are you OK?" He asks. His expression is one of concern.

"I'm, I'm fine." You stumble, clearly lying. 

He stands up and unties the flannel shirt wrapped around his waist. "Here." He offers you the shirt. "You should put on something dry." 

You hesitate, but accept his offer and give him a small smile. "Thank you."

Gripping the shirt, you grab your waterlogged possessions and make your way to the washroom. You strip off your t-shirt and replace it with the red flannel, carefully buttoning it up to the top. It hangs down just to the ripped hem of your jean shorts that you try unsuccessfully to dry under the hand dryer. 

When you return to your seat the coffee is waiting with the surprising addition of a slice of warm apple pie. 

You open your mouth to comment on the mistake but the man whose shirt you were now wearing cuts you off.

"You look like you're having a bit of a day and I thought you could use something sweet."

You go to protest that he's already been too generous, but he nods towards the plate "Go on."

Another kind stranger.

You smile another thank you and wrap your hands around the coffee. As you take a sip, it warms its way down your throat and through your body. You start to feel like yourself again and begin to relax.

"Esteban" he introduces himself. You follow suit.

You can tell he has several questions, and who wouldn't want to know about a woman who looks like a beached mermaid that had found her way to a diner on the outskirts, but he's clearly been around and knows better than to pry.

So he keeps the conversation light and casual, choosing to talk mostly about himself. Not in the selfish way men feel entitled to, but in a way to gain your trust and put you at ease.

As he speaks you can't help but take in more of him. His eyes are dark brown and framed by long lashes, and when he smiles, his face softens, made younger by the dimples that play at the corners of his mouth. His voice is softer than you'd expect from someone who looked so serious when you had entered the diner. Although his hair is a bit messy, it's in that carefree way that takes more effort than it looks. It had the same deliberate casualness as the slightly too tight t-shirt that accentuates his arms. His appearance is something he obviously takes pride in. Despite sucking back the same mediocre diner coffee that you are, he's clearly careful with what he puts in his body to maintain such a sculpted, muscular frame.

Soon you've forgotten about the day's journey and you're laughing and encouraging his stories. The coffee disappears, then another cup. The pie slowly disappears as well though you find him so engaging that you keep forgetting it's there.

A couple of hours roll by and the conversation naturally peters out.

"Where are you headed?" He asks, with what seems to be genuine worry.

"I'm not really sure." You admit hesitantly.

You look down and realize you're still wearing his shirt. He notices you do it and can tell you're thinking about returning it. He shakes his head slightly to let you know he has no expectations of its return.

"I know a place." He says. "Let's get you somewhere dry."

He pays for his coffee as well as yours and the pie despite your gentle protest. He's already been too kind.

You follow him to his car and he opens the passenger side door for you. It's still raining, but it's much lighter now. You close the door as he rounds to his side. The faint aroma of stale cigarettes lingers, and it triggers a warm memory you can't quite place.

You drive in silence, not sure how to break it or if you even should. It's peaceful in the rain and you gaze out the window at the passing lights.

The drive is short and you pull into a nondescript motel parking lot. He parks and you both get out of the car. 

Fearing yourself to be presumptuous, you prepare to fumble with the words to express that you can't afford a room. He looks directly into your eyes and allays your fears with one simple word. 

"Come."

It wasn't a command, but you obey all the same.

His hand slips the key in the lock and he motions for you to enter as he opens the door. The place is a little worn, but clean. A few of his possessions are scattered throughout the room, but he clearly hasn't been there long. He strikes you as the type who isn't anywhere for very long.

He ditches his wallet and keys and flops down on the bed. You shiver slightly, still damp and make your way to the bathroom, clutching your bag.

You carefully remove the red flannel shirt and hang it on the back of the door. You feel a sense of relief and calm as you strip off your damp bra, jean shorts, and panties. You turn the knobs above the tub and shiver slightly as you wait for the water to warm. As you step into the shower and the heat hits you, you feel human again.

As much as you relish the comfort of the shower, you remember that you are a guest and cut it short. You towel off and carefully button the flannel shirt back up, missing the top button. You rummage through your bag, but everything is soaked through. You find the driest panties you can and slip them on. After running a comb through your hair and a quick check in the mirror, you pad barefoot back into the small room.

He's splayed comfortably across the bed, flicking at his phone and sipping a beer. Something cheap and local presumably. As you enter, his eyes rake across your body. He catches himself, and tries to act the gentleman by offering you a beer instead. 

You accept it as you sit down on the bed next to him, and you tuck your legs under you. You take a sip of the bland lager and sigh a little. He puts down his phone and softly studies you as you shift to get comfortable. 

You smile warmly with gratitude, and he smiles back. There are those dimples again. 

A few moments pass in silence and he offers to turn on the TV. He changes channels aimlessly and you both stare ahead and drink. Eventually, his breath lets out a light chuckle at something he's seen and you glance over at him. 

"How are you feeling?" He asks half politely, half curious. 

"Much better thanks."

The thought to ask you about yourself  again crosses his mind, but he decides that he shouldn't break the look of contentment on your face. Your smile has softened, and it has softened something inside of him. He turns away when he notices he's been staring a fraction of a second too long at your lips. He leans over to grab another beer.

His shifting weight on the bed disturbs your balance and you get up and wander to the window. The rain is lighter now, but still persistent and you trace a drop with your finger as it glides downwards.

"Not comfortable?" He asks as he takes in your silhouette against the window.

"Mostly comfortable." You say as a thought crosses your mind, your slight buzz making you feel bolder.

His eyebrow arches slightly at the unexpected reply. 

"But your shirt is kind of scratchy. It's slightly chaffing my nipples." You whisper coyly.

His eyes follow the words to your chest and he moistens his lips subconsciously.

You undo 2 more top buttons and shrug the flannel off your shoulders so that the shirt is hanging on your bent elbows, just grazing your back. You glance down at your now exposed breasts and back into his hungry eyes.

"Maybe you should kiss them better."

He puts down his drink, raises himself off the bed and crosses the small room in one swift motion. His hand is on the small of your back and the other one squeezes your breast gently. A gasp escapes your mouth. 

His eyes dart slightly as he looks into yours, seeking permission. Your pleading gaze matches your trembling lips and they're soon stilled by his wanting mouth. His tongue seeks yours and your arms go limp. As they do, the shirt falls to the floor, pooling at your feet. Your hands seek the back of his head, and you weave your fingers into his dark hair, pulling him closer, deepening his kiss.

His thumb ghosts over your nipple and a shudder courses through you. You grab at him, desperate for more, but he breaks your kiss and starts trailing his mouth, nipping and kissing down your jaw, your neck, your chest. His lips find your nipple and he sucks lightly. Your knees go weak and he presses his hand into your back more firmly to support your weight. A cry breaks from your throat and you can feel a hum in his chest and he savors your reaction.

He presses harder against your back and your hips thrust forward to meet his. You can feel his jeans against your thighs and his erection straining against the denim. You reach down to stroke against his girth and as you palm at the mound he lets out a low rumble. 

You press harder and his mouth finds yours again, trying to consume you. He glides his free hand up your inner thigh and his 2 fingers find your panties, damp now not only from the downpour but from the slick desire pooling between your legs. He hums his approval into your mouth and proceeds to rub your clit through the wet fabric. You arch and gasp at his touch, but he holds you firmly to him and continues to passionately kiss your mouth. 

The circles of his fingers are agonizingly slow until he slips them past the damp cotton and directly touches your skin. You tremble, but he has you and he delights in your loss of control. His hand slowly glides back and he parts your lips to press his fingers inside of you and you moan at the strong warmth of his hand. His palm still grazes your clit as his fingers move to beckon an orgasm from within. 

As you think you are on the verge of collapse, he guides you to the bed and lays you down firmly, but not forcefully. His hands are everywhere and you throw your arms back over your head as you arch back into the mattress. A strangled moan breaks from you and suddenly his hands are gone. 

He's standing at the end of the bed and you watch hungrily as he removes his t-shirt. Your eyes take in what your hands already know of his broad chest and strong arms. His belt hits the floor and shortly after you hear his jeans and boxers join it. Your mouth is agape, and you salivate imagining the taste of his thick hard cock that you now can't tear your eyes away from. 

You remove your panties and your knees fall wide, enticing and inviting him to take all of you.

His skillful hands part your legs further so that he can crawl between them. You feel his thick length graze your thigh as he positions himself above you. You take in his strong features accentuated by the dim light and see the lust flickering in his eyes, matching your own. 

His lips. Again his soft lips on yours insistent and needing. His tongue, exploring your mouth, trying to lap up all of your desire. His hands, strong and determined, kneading your soft flesh, searching for every nerve from which he can strum a moan or a gasp. 

He stops and raises his head above yours, looking down into your eyes as his hand cups your jaw. He repositions his hips and you feel his cock brush against your clit and as he shifts, he slides easily between your wet folds. He pulls back and slowly thrusts forward, entering your core. Your head tries to buck back, but he holds your jaw firmly so that he can see your reaction to him parting you open. Your eyes roll back slightly as you let out a short high pitched cry and the corners of his mouth curl with satisfaction. 

His hips buck and you spread your legs wider to take all of him in. You grip his sides with your knees as you try to hold his body closer to yours. You squeeze him with your legs to feel the mass of him around you, his weight on top of you.

You hear his heavy breathing becoming more ragged as your moans gain confidence. He uses his hold of your head to plant kisses on your cheeks and neck and jaw and with each one you gasp and cry out. 

He's thrusting faster now and you are lost in the rhythm. You grasp at his back and feel the undulating muscles offer their firm resistance, which just makes you grip harder. His breathing stutters as you squeeze and he lets out a short rumbling grunt that you feel shake through his body.

You feel your skin begin to flush and your toes curl as you tense and relax to his ebb and flow. Your walls squeeze tight and he scrunches his eyes closed at the divine pressure. Your body is pulling him into you, desperate to feel him deep inside your core. The pace quickens and you feel the electric jolt of your orgasm spread from your center. As you shake, you cry out and he watches intently at the pleasure he has given you, preparing for his own.

He buries his face in your neck and lets loose a muffled cry as he spills himself into you. Your legs are still twitching from the orgasm that wracked through you and you feel weak but elated as he collapses onto your body. 

You try to catch your breath as he slides out of you and you feel him spill from between your legs. He rolls over and the bed groans as the weight of his strong solid mass lays down next to you. You beam at him, exhausted and satisfied, and he feels the same. He leans forward to kiss your forehead, and when he pulls back, his posture is inviting and you lay your head against his chest. Your breathing slows and you drift off in the safety of his protective embrace.