#he's been taking care of shadow and he made him a scarf c'mon

[technically-human]

Hear me out. Father son relationship between shadow and stone AND shadow hates Robotnik for dating stone 😦

This is my truth

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Buckle Bunny Bonanza

Summary: Arthur is a barrel racing trainer in which Michelle and Allie are his students and also secretly in a poly relationship. A scuffle at a rodeo leads to some fun in the trailer.

Authors Notes: Collab fic with @horsegirl1h ! This started with a conversation about how both Allie and Michelle would be barrel racers in a modern AU. Somehow this fanfic formed out of that discussion.

Tags/warnings: polyamorous relationship, D/s tones, smut, some violence, sexual tension

The late evening sun cast long shadows across the outdoor arena. The fairgrounds were alive with others wandering around with their horses or turning in their trailers for the night.

Allie could feel the burn in her torso and down her legs from what felt like her hundredth practice run. She brought her mare to a stop after crossing the timer. Her eyes locked to the two beings who stood at the end of the arena. One of them walked up.

"That was good, but still a couple seconds off your last run," Arthur said as he studied her frustrated expression. "C'mon, you both need a break." Arthur nodded towards the direction of the horse trailer. Allie hopped down, Arthur's hand on the small of her back as she landed.

He walked Allie to the trailer and stood beside her as she began unsaddling the horse, the mare nudging Arthur to give her attention. Arthur chuckled and scratched the mare’s forehead before looking to Allie.

"Don't stress yourself, you're doin’ good."

As Allie finished untacking her horse, Michelle had sidled up to the both of them. A small smile crossed her lips, reaching over to pat Allie’s shoulder. “Hey, just breathe. You’ve placed multiple times before, you can do it again.”

“Just gotta control those jitters, sweetheart.” Arthur added as he offered the mare a treat, in which she gladly took. “Get some rest tonight, we’ll be up bright n’ early for the show.”

Allie sighed softly. "I think I'll turn in early then so I have a clear head in the morning." A relieved smile came across her face and she kissed each of them on the cheek before stepping into the living quarters of the trailer.

*****

The morning sun shone bright with the promise of a gorgeous day. The arena grounds were riddled with horses, riders, and spectators alike. With hundreds of participants meant a little bit of down time for the three of them after taking care of the morning chores.

They’d scarfed down a quick meal after making sure the horses got theirs. As they wandered out into the open, Michelle and Allie took a look at their surroundings.

"Now there's a couple girls here that are gonna give us a run for our money, so just keep your heads in the game." The girls listened intently as Arthur spoke. Other competitors had been wandering around the trailers, on and off horseback alike.

Allie looked past Arthur with a scowl on her face. "Apparently a run for our money for something else."

Arthur turned to see who Allie was giving a death glare to, and his eyes rested on another girl a few yards away.

She was beautiful; no doubt about that. Her bejeweled Wrangler jeans hugged her hips a little too tightly, outlining the curve of her waist. Her tank top sat low and the obvious push-up bra stood out against the thin fabric. Blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail, soft curls spilling across her back. It was a "buckle bunny", who also happened to be one of the other competitors. However the way her eyes pulled toward Arthur, observing him as if he were a five star meal, set Allie’s teeth on edge.

Arthur took care not to meet her gaze, turning to give Allie a subtle but reassuring smile. “She can stare all she wants,” he whispered. “It ain’t gonna get past that. For now, just focus on outrunnin’ her.”

Allie nodded but Michelle tugged on her arm to keep Allie's temper in check. “I know, I wanna swipe that look off her face too. But Arthur’s right; we gotta focus.” Michelle said.

“Right,” Arthur said with a nod. “We can’t practice poor sportsmanship by throwin’ punches. Prove yourselves like champions.”

Michelle gave a smirk. “Can’t promise nothin’ if they try touching you, though. Then it’s fair game.”

He only shook his head accompanied with a slight eye roll. “Behave, alright? It ain’t gonna come to that.”

Allie couldn't help but mirror Michelle's smirk. "I'll do my best to behave, but I can't say I don't agree with her."

Arthur chuckled at Allie’s comment. “You two are somethin’ special, ya know?”

“Just count yourself lucky you got two women who are more than willing to throw some hands in your honor!” Michelle joked, and then glanced over at Allie. “Anyway, I ‘spose we should be tacking up now, huh? Almost time for us.”

"Yeah, maybe I'll outrun you this time." Allie laughed as she nudged Michelle playfully with her elbow, earning an amused smirk from Arthur.

"Alright you two, I'll see you both after you run. I'll be watchin' from the usual spot."

“Yes, sir.” Michelle said, offering him the two-fingered salute he favored himself. She wrapped her arm around Allie’s shoulders, fresh determination overcoming her as the two headed to their horses.

It didn’t take long for them to tack up and change into their show gear. The warm up arena was bustling with dozens of other riders, attempting to warm up their horses in the crowd.

Michelle has always been used to this; having grown up on horseback and began racing at a young age. A novice would be intimidated by this setting, yet she felt right at home. Her gaze swept over the crowd to find a decent spot for warm-ups, eventually spotting a nearly untouched corner. She turned to Allie and gestured toward the spot, urging her gelding to trot forward once a path opened up.

Allie followed not far behind and trotted alongside her for a bit. She took in the scene around her, adrenaline coursing through her. She lived for the rush she felt coming down the alley and the feeling of her and her mare becoming one as a team is something she couldn't describe.

Her mare knew the routine and she was already becoming excitable. Allie cantered in circles, switching the direction every couple of times. She slowed her down to a walk after a bit, falling back into place beside Michelle.

Allie loved watching Michelle run. Sure, she loved the feeling of running herself, but when she watched Michelle she was mesmerized. Although she'd grown up on horseback as well, both Michelle and Arthur had taught her quite a bit and she'd only improved from it.

Once the horses were nice and warmed up, the girls waited patiently while the others took their runs one by one. It was tough competition, the top times only mere milliseconds apart. Michelle was up next, and that familiar feel of adrenaline began to sear through her system.

Michelle approached the alleyway, a calm expression on her face while her gelding pranced with controlled power underneath her, head up and ears forward. Once his feet passed the gate, she pushed her hands forward. With an explosive start, her horse rocketed into the arena. Wind whipped past her as she approached the first barrel, turning it with ease before launching toward the second.

All the while, she heard Arthur shouting from the sidelines, encouraging her to run faster.

With the remaining two cleared without an issue, the run back home was her favorite. Everything has been a complete blur as her steed carried her across the arena at what felt like breakneck speed. As she crossed the timer and slowed him down, the high from the run lingered.

Clean run, beautiful turns. Her time was easily matched with the others. Michelle shot a smirk as some of the competitors looked on with jealousy flashing in their eyes. Passing them by, she returned to Allie’s side.

Allie could hardly contain her excitement as Michelle came back over next to her. 

"That was amazing! I hope mine goes that smooth." She uttered breathlessly as the next rider made her way down the alleyway. Allie watched with bated breath as her nervousness started creeping in.

What Allie thought to be over all too soon, the rider crossed the timer and Allie got into position, giving Michelle an anxious smile. She repeated Arthur and Michelle's words in her head from the past couple days and let out a breath.

Her mare was more than ready, dancing and tossing her head a bit waiting for Allie’s cue. Moving past the gate, Allie moved her hands and the mare surged forward. She could feel the adrenaline run through her as she focused on the first barrel. 

They went around the first two effortlessly, Allies eyes now trained on the third. She could hear Arthur's encouragement from the sidelines as she turned around the third and ran for home, her mare giving it her all.

Shaking from excitement, adrenaline and nervousness all at the same time, she made her way back over to Michelle and listened for her time, stroking her mare’s neck.

To Michelle’s surprise, Allie’s time was incredibly close to her’s with just milliseconds in separation. This made her smile, knowing how far Allie had come after coming to train with her, and under Arthur’s wing. She flashed Allie a thumbs up, giving her a wide grin. “Hey that was awesome! I think you might’ve even placed in one of the divisions!” she complimented, moving her gelding along the side of the mare to calm their still-hot temperaments.

Allies face lit up with both surprise and excitement as she took in Michelle's words. "That would be so awesome. I'm sure Arthur will be happy about that." 

*****

Back at the trailer, Allie and Michelle talked excitedly about the outcome of their runs and how well they did while they untacked their horses. Arthur stood closeby, loading the saddles and bridles back into the trailer. As Allie started grooming her mare, she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. 

The girl from earlier that day had apparently decided she would try her luck by coming up to Arthur and getting too close for comfort. Michelle noticed Allie had suddenly stopped grooming and followed her line of sight where Arthur was standing.

“Easy now,” Michelle warned. “Arthur’s a big boy, he can handle himself.” though she kept her eyes on the pair like a predator. One wrong move and she’d have two cats to scrap with.

The blonde girl’s eyes swiveled toward Allie and Michelle for a brief second. It was as if she knew her actions were irritating them. She was giggling obnoxiously, angling her body toward him as she smiled and batted her fake eyelashes at him. Arthur seemed to be taken by the conversation, but from the way he stood made it obvious that he wasn’t interested. That however didn’t stop her from reaching out and placing her hand on his chest. He leaned away from her touch slightly, stepping backward and folding his arms.

Needless to say, the bitch stepped in tune with him, keeping the gap between them as small as possible. Arthur definitely seemed a little uncomfortable now; holding his hand out to try and dismiss her attempts to lure him. A sickenly sweet smile crossed her lips as she draped her hand across his exposed forearm.

An audible growl rumbled from Michelle’s throat. This bitch was crossing the line. Before her brain could even think, her feet moved forward and Allie was right alongside her.

“C’mon now, cowboy,” the bunny said in a sickenly alluring tone as they approached her. “Lemme show ya how a real cowgirl can treat ya.”

“No,” Arthur said sternly. He caught the eye of the others and shot them a quiet warning glance. “I ain’t interested.”

Allie caught Arthur's glance but by this point she couldn't hold herself back. She stomped up to the girl, mere inches from her face. "What part of he's not interested that you do not understand?" She clenched her fists at her side, her nails digging into her palms.

That smile returned to the bunny's face as she folded her arms, looking them both up and down with scrutiny. "And what are you? His keeper?" she challenged.

Allie saw red at her words and shoved the girl back. Michelle stood rigid, arms tensing in case something else were to happen.

As the other girl stumbled to regain her balance, a hot glare on her face for a moment before a smirk crossed her lips. “What’s wrong? You angry that you’re not as pretty as me?”

“Allie. Michelle. Back. Down.” Arthur hissed underneath his breath, placing his hands on each of their shoulders.

“Are you that insecure about yourself that you have to hit on someone who ain’t interested?” Michelle growled, ignoring Arthur’s words and folding her arms to glower at the bunny. “Back off, bitch. You’re not wanted.”

“Insecure?” she laughed in a disgustingly haughty tone. “Please. Look in a mirror. Y’all have a fine piece of a man for your trainer, probably cause you can’t find one yourselves!”

Arthur’s grip tightened on them, as if trying to physically hold them back from lashing out. “I think you need to go,” he said in a firm tone. “You ain’t welcome here.”

The bunny rolled her eyes, yet offered a sultry smile, dipping her head slightly to give him a sensual look. “Offer’s still up, cowboy. C’mon and ditch these losers, if ya wanna know how high society cowgirls like to play.”

And at that moment, Michelle’s entire body sprung forward in a flail of fists. It almost would have taken Allie by surprise had she not almost went after the girl herself. Her instinct told her to listen to Arthur's warning, but her anger was beginning to control her and she knew she'd probably pay for it later. Arthur shouted Michelle’s name, only to have it fall upon deaf ears as the spicy Latina whaled on the other girl. Her fists connected with flesh over and over.

Allie watched as punches went flying, grabbing the girl from behind trying to pry her apart from Michelle's unforgiving swings. Allie shoved the bunny back, knocking her on her ass. "Maybe you'll listen next time? Or do I need to give you one of mine for good measure?" she countered.

With her perfectly made-up face now swollen, inflamed spots soon turning purple with bruising. The bunny wiped a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth. She shot a glower of deep hatred at Michelle, who only had a prideful smirk on her face. “You absolute bitch!” she snarled, scrambling to stand up. “You messed up my face!”

“We’ll mess up more if you don’t high-tail it outta here,” Michelle growled. “I will count to three, bitch. One.”

As Michelle held up one finger, emphasizing it with power in her voice, the bunny only scowled.

“Two.”

“Fine, ain’t worth my time anyway.” she huffed, turning on her heel and storming away.

Michelle watched her leave, the scowl on her face remained. She cracked her knuckles, knowing they’ll most likely be sore later on. “Hijo de perra,” she sighed. “Wasn’t expecting a fight this weekend.” She turned to look at Allie and Arthur, expecting to see a look of anger or disappointment on his face. He instead had his eyebrows slightly raised, staring at the both of them in a look of wonder.

“Um, Arthur?”

"That sure was...somethin'." Arthur chuckled as he looked at them both, stepping closer to them and lowering his voice. "Why don't you two meet me back at the trailer when you get yourselves together?" Allie could only nod in response, taken by surprise at Arthur's reaction.

Michelle definitely was not expecting that reaction. The adrenaline and anger from the fight had died down to confusion. She looked at Allie’s equally confused expression and shrugged, trying to think of what was in store for them.

After getting the horses groomed and back into their stalls, the girls approached the trailer with slight apprehension about what was going to happen. Arthur didn’t seem angry, but he left them without much else of a clue.

They entered the living quarters and saw Arthur sitting at the dining table. He smiled at them as they stepped in, standing up to meet them halfway.

“What’s up, Arthur?” Michelle asked. “Sorry I started that fight…”

Arthur however, still had a smile on his face. “It’s alright, sweetheart.” He peered at them with half-lidded eyes. He reached to gently caress Michelle’s cheek. “Now, y’all know I don’t condone violence. Any other event and I woulda yelled at ya for it.”

Michelle stared at him in confusion. “Why didn’t you?”

His eyes turned dark, the smile slowly turning into a smirk. He peered over at Allie, lifting his other hand to caress her cheek. “You jumped in n’ defended me. I coulda handled it myself without throwin’ punches. But seein’ you both, all riled up for me, that was sexy.”

Allie couldn't help but to lean into his touch, sending a shiver down her spine. "You know how we are over you." She leered back into his eyes, swallowing hard at the dark gaze she found there. She felt heat rise to her cheeks and she became flushed at the realization of what was on Arthur's mind.

“‘Course I do, that makes it even better,” he chuckled. He drew Allie in for a kiss before passing over to Michelle. “So how ‘bout we blow off that steam?”

Michelle’s eyes widened, glancing over at Allie and then to Arthur. Excitement began to build within her. “Here? Now?”

Arthur nodded, his hand moving from Michelle’s cheek to her waist, drawing her in close. “I’ll try n’ keep you girls quiet, but I can’t promise nothin’.”

Heat brushed Michelle’s cheeks at that statement, but the ever-growing need that slowly filled her was beginning to take over. She leaned on Arthur as he drew Allie in too, his hands wandering down to their asses to selfishly cop a feel.

“My girls…” he murmured, enjoying the feel of them in his hands, earning a squeak and giggle. “Undress, please.”

As if a switch had turned on, both Allie and Michelle obeyed, stepping back to shed their clothing one by one. Arthur’s watchful eyes were on them, drinking in the sight of their now nude bodies, both beautiful and unique in their own ways. It wasn’t the first time they were his personal girls at the same time, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Arthur looked at Allie, smiling at her as he gestured for her to come close. She swaggered over into his arms, meeting his lips for a deep kiss. Threading her hands into his hair, she moaned as she nibbled his bottom lip. She could feel the tension from just minutes ago begin to melt away.

Keeping well into the kiss, Arthur’s eyes swiveled to stare at Michelle. His gesture was slight but easily understood. She approached him and unbuckled his jeans, sliding them down to reveal what lay waiting underneath. He was only half-hard, yet with Michelle’s mouth eagerly taking him, it didn’t take him long to become completely erect.

His hand stroked Michelle’s hair, while the other explored Allie’s delicious curves. Rough fingers feather-light against her soft skin, tracing patterns against the swell of her hips. He squeezed her ass once more before sliding down to her lower lips, discovering the welcoming moisture.

“Wet for me already?” He asked, his voice slightly disjointed from his own pleasure. “Ain’t you eager?"

Allie flushed at his statement and bit her lip before responding, her voice husky. "Doesn't take much coming from you." She rolled her hips on his hand, eager to get relief from the ache between her legs.

He chuckled. “Oh I know, sweetheart.” He teased her slowly, working his fingers along her center, sliding against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Arthur watched Allie’s face contort with the pleasure he gave. “Both my girls...doin’ so well already.” He praised, his chest rumbling with a deep groan. His other hand had a grip on Michelle’s hair, guiding himself further into her mouth.

His fingers began to explore Allie’s inner walls, curling them to hit those spots he knew so well. The moan she elicited was like music to his ears. Another moment passed before he pulled out, staunching her whine of protest with a soft kiss. He released Michelle as well, stepping back from her inviting mouth. Peering at both of them with a mischievous gleam, he gestured to the bed, where it sat in the neck of the trailer. “Climb on, both of ya.”

They didn’t have to be told twice. Allie and Michelle scooted themselves up and on the bed, facing him with expectant and eager looks on their faces.

“Allie, eat Michelle out, would ya?” He asked politely as if it were the most nonchalant question in the world.

Allie smirked as she looked at Michelle with an eager glint in her eyes. She moved to put her hands on Michelle's knees and spread them apart, laying between her legs. She ran her hands down the outside of Michelle's thighs, while kissing her way down to her core.

Michelle’s body trembled underneath Allie’s touch. Leaning back as Allie made her way down, a soft moan escaping her lips as a tongue slid through her folds. Her head rested against the pillows, letting herself melt into the slowly growing pleasure from her core. Allie hit her nerves with practiced precision, building another and louder moan.

Arthur watched, eyeing his two girls with a nearly predatory gaze. After a few moments he climbed onto the bed with them, taking position behind Allie. His hands smoothed against her back. His fingers found their way to its prize again, briefly testing before prompting her to kneel up. She did so, bending herself into his touch like a cat in heat. His rock-hard cock rested against the divide of her ass, sliding it up and down sensually before sliding himself right in to his root.

The three of them were in-sync, Michelle’s body arcing while Allie’s tongue moved faster, Allie trying to focus while Arthur fucked her slowly from behind. Michelle’s hands smoothed through Allie’s hair, whispering a praise of how wonderful her tongue felt. Her eyes swiveled up to meet Arthur’s lustful gaze, mirroring the smile that crossed his face.

He leaned over, kissing up Allie’s neck and nibbling on the shell of her ear. “Ya like takin’ my cock with a face full of pussy?” he growled, etching his marks across her back.

Allie could only let out a lewd moan as a response, gripping Michelle's hip as one hand came down to tease her entrance while her tongue still worked against the other girl’s clit. Allie watched Michelle's expression as she slid two fingers inside her, moaning against her when she felt her slick on her fingers. She picked up the pace with her hand, curling her fingers ever so slightly.

Michelle’s entire body twitched and writhed within Allie’s grip, trying hard not to buck her hips into Allie’s face. She uttered a swear, her hands digging into the bedsheets. “Oh, God…” she moaned, her voice trembling. “More, please.”

“Make her cum, Allie.” Arthur instructed, his voice low and breathless while he continued to fuck Allie, gradually increasing his speed. His hand reached around to fondle her tits, squeezing and tweaking her nipples, sending a deep shudder across Allie’s body. She didn’t object, moving her fingers and tongue faster and faster, chasing for Michelle’s pleasure.

Michelle was close now, tilting her head back to sing out another moan. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” she mewled, pressing herself slightly closer to Allie’s mouth. Within seconds her climax hit, a burning explosion that radiated across her abdomen and through her limbs. As the intensity ebbed away, her body fell limp, her chest heaving slightly with attempts to catch her breath.

“Good girls.” Arthur praised, reaching his hand to caress Michelle’s waist briefly before focusing on Allie once again. He began to thrust harder into her, using both hands to play with her breasts. “Your turn, darlin’. Lemme hear it from ya.”

"Oh, fuck." Her mewls turned into loud moans, gripping the sheets as she arched her chest further into Arthur's hands while she pushed back against him, taking him deeper.

Arthur growled as Allie pushed him deeper within her, and his hands gripped her tightly, driving himself faster into her. He was relentless with his pursuit of her peak. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he grunted. “Give me your pleasure.”

Allie's lewd moans filled the walls of the trailer as her orgasm surged through her body. She cried out his name as her walls clenched around him, breathless whimpers leaving her as she slowly came down from her high.

Arthur pushed himself deeply as Allie released her orgasm, milking her of every last drop before slowly pulling out. His arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her upright and cupping her face to pull her into a deep kiss, enjoying the taste of Michelle in her mouth. He held it for a long moment before releasing her. “That’s my girl,” he rumbled, rubbing his thumb on her chin. “Now…”

He lay down onto the bed, smiling over at Michelle and caressing her face. “Ride me, my lil’ cowgirl.” he growled to her, running his thumb over her lips, to which she trapped in her mouth and pulled her lips off with a pop. She wordlessly followed his instruction, straddling him and hovering over his length, gripping the base and guiding him inside her, soon seating herself comfortably on top of him.

A soft moan escaped Michelle’s lips as she began to grind on him, her hips rounding in a smooth motion. Arthur’s hands gripped her hips, letting out a low groan when he looked over at Allie, gesturing for her to come over.

“Sit on my face, darlin’.”

Allie obliged, bracing her hands on the wall in front of her as she straddled him. Still sensitive from earlier, she let out a gasp when his tongue found her clit, throwing her head back and rolling her hips slightly against him. "Oh...god, Arthur." She whined, already trying to pace herself from reaching her peak again, wanting to draw it out as long as she could until Michelle and Arthur came. 

Arthur gripped Allie’s thighs hard while he ate her like a delicious meal. The pleasure rolled in tandem with all three of them. The bed squeaked while Michelle rode Arthur as if he were a bucking bronco. Her high moans mixed with low groans and Allie’s whines, carrying through the trailer.

Michelle reached forward to rake her nails down Allie’s back, adding to the marks left earlier by Arthur. She gripped on Allie’s shoulders for more leverage, sliding her inner walls fervently against Arthur’s thick length. Her mouth landed on the back of Allie’s neck, sucking and nibbling at the skin. Her one hand reached around to play with Allie’s nipples.

“Let us feel you cum again,” Michelle whispered breathlessly, squeezing the hardened flesh between her fingers. “But ask him before you do.” Just as Michelle said that, Arthur freed his hand to slide a finger along Allie’s slit, toying once again with her entrance before letting her walls engulf it.

The plethora of sensations made Allie writhe and moan even more. She arched her chest into Michelle's touch as Allie's thrusting of her hips became erratic. "Arthur I'm...so close..." 

Her whines and mewls became louder as she became closer to reaching her peak.

"Can I cum, Arthur? Please.." She bit her lip to distract herself as she waited on his answer.

Arthur’s relentless pursuit of Allie’s pleasure did not let up. He hummed to her in approval, running his fingers along her thigh in approval. His tongue worked harder against her clit, throwing her into orgasm at full force. The trailer was filled with the song of Allie’s climax as it overtook her body for a third time. Arthur drew out the last waves as his tongue and fingers worked the last of their magic on her. He teased her slightly, and her hips bucked in oversensitivity.

His mouth left Allie’s folds, peering up at her with an amused smile on his face. “Easy, girl. Take a break.” he rumbled, smoothing his hands on her hips as she trembled on top of him. Michelle released Allie and allowed her to get off. Allie leaned up against the wall, breathless and hot, for recovery.

With his hands free, Arthur’s attention turned to Michelle once again. His hands grabbed her hips, thrusting up hard into her while she rode him strong. Michelle threw her head back to moan beautifully and shout a swear to the heavens. She rolled and ground her hips sensually like a dancer.

“F-Fuck, Arthur...I’m gonna cum again!” she whined, her fingers finding purchase on his chest. Arthur sat up immediately, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her into a deep kiss. Her mewls were drowned by his eager mouth, her body trembling in his grip while her own climax washed over her like a tidal wave.

Once it ebbed away, Arthur removed Michelle from his lap and laid her onto her back. He smirked down at her, reaching for her legs to rest them on his shoulders. His thoroughly soaked length prodded at her entrance, teasing out a small moan from her before allowing her to engulf him once again.

He took a deep breath, thrusting slowly and deeply within her, dragging along her G-spot. As Michelle gave a moan akin to a pornstar, he looked over at Allie and smiled at her. “I’m gettin’ close,” he started breathlessly, “I need ya both on your knees when I say.”

Allie gave him a smirk, an eager glint in her eyes as she waited for his instruction. She lazily ran her hands over her body as she kept her eyes locked with Arthur's, casually letting a hand wander over to Michelle's chest to play with her nipples.

Michelle was a moaning mess beneath Arthur’s solid body. She shuddered when Allie began to play with her nipples. She could only look up at him while he fucked her mercilessly, her mouth open to form nearly incoherent swears. Arthur smiled down at her, drowning her moan out with a deep kiss while he increased his pace, pistoning into her with relentless pursuit of his own climax.

A few more moments passed before Arthur suddenly pulled out, hand around his cock. “Now girls,” He ordered, stepping down from the bed ledge. “Mouths open.”

Michelle rolled over immediately, lightly landing on her feet on the floor below. Allie followed suit, both of them kneeling down in front of him in a hasty retreat. They waited patiently, staring up at their master while he pumped his length. His half lidded gaze soon contorted as he reached his peak, releasing hot streaks of his spend onto their awaiting tongues. He stopped rubbing as they swallowed dutifully.

Arthur breathed heavily, the last of his seed dripping from his softening cock. He gazed down at the two of them, a lazy smile crossing his lips. “Mind cleanin’ me up?”

Just as he said that, Allie and Michelle leaned forward to carefully run their tongues along the glistening skin of his length. He twitched as one of them caressed his sensitive head, cleaning him of the pearl that remained. Once their job was done, they rose to their feet, though their legs were trembling.

Arthur gave a small smirk at how the girls struggled to keep upright. He opened his arms and drew them in, giving each one a deep kiss. Locked in a few silent minutes of passion, he pulled back. “You did wonderful girls, as always.”

Michelle gave a smirk of her own in response. “As per usual, Mr. Morgan. We don’t disappoint.”

Allie mirrored Michelle's smirk and chuckled softly. "The shower might be small, but I'm taking one if anyone wants to join." She winked at the both of them before strutting off to the shower stall, a sway in her hips as she went.

Arthur watched her go with hungry eyes, though he knew it would be a fruitless effort. “If that shower were big ‘nough for all three o’ us, I wouldn’t be lettin’ you girls go til tomorrow.”

---

Ima subtly tag @verai-marcel for the idea of the silly ass title.

[feverwritingandtextposts]

Summary:

All the cool monsters make it to the front page of City S Newspaper. And Garou's going to join them, even if he has to kidnap a reporter to do it.

Look man I saw this funny AU post and i HAD to write this i was possessed. 

As usual you can follow the link to read it or read it under the cut below. 

"And so that's why i skipped the math class in my 7th grade- hey. Hey. Are you listening?"

Badd turned his head up to the voice, groggy and tired. He gave a non-committal grunt in response. The man clucked his tongue in annoyance.

"Hm. You're not writing anything down so-"

Badd raised an eyebrow at that, glaring down the man in front of him. Tall, imposing, with the most hideous hairstyle Badd's ever seen, the man loomed overhead, paused in his pacing to stare down at him.

"How the fuck am i supposed to write anything when my FUCKING HANDS ARE TIED?" Badd bellowed, fully sick and tired of this nonsense.

Personally, Badd had no clue why this bastard chose to kidnap him out of all the reporters out there. He's just self aware enough to know that he's not exactly the easiest person to get along with in general. If this dude really wanted the world to 'understand his monster aesthetic and goals through the newspaper' he'd probably get better cooperation from some mousy bumbling reporter that he can, actually, successfully intimidate.

Maybe Badd looked like an easy target because he'd been passed out after drinking with a interviewee. In his defense, the office promised to pay, and Badd was never one to turn down some day drinking.

Damn, what even happened to that guy... Did this fucker kill him when Badd got kidnapped?

The man, Garou or Gatou or Geko something like that, narrowed his eyes at him. It looked like he'd wanted to seem contemptuous and intimidating, but Badd thought it made him just look pouty, like an ill tempered child.

That dude's probably fine.

"You could've just said so then," the man snapped, reaching over.

Badd jerked back from him, the movement teethering him dangerously on the flimsy chair he was tied against.

"Ey ey, hands off bastard. This coat's Gucci and i dunno where your damn hands have been," Badd hissed.

Clearly offended, the man drew back, lips pulling back to show a sharp array of teeth. "I wash my hands you little shit."

"That's what all the crooks say."

The man looked stunned for a moment, face still stuck in that half angry half incredulous grimace, as if shocked that Badd was just being so deliberately uncooperative, when he'd gone to all this trouble of holding him hostage. Held aloft in front of him, the man's hands balled up into fists.

Briefly, Badd wondered if he was finally going to get punched.

Badd was kinda looking forward to it. Its been a while since he got punched anyway.

But instead, the man seemed to reign himself in, folding his arms and drawing up to his fullest height, lips drawn in a sneer.

"Your coat's ugly anyway. Gucci? You wasted your money on that crap."

Wow really? He's really gonna get his fashion sense roasted by a man in ratty joggers and old people slippers.

"Fuck you," Badd snarled venomously.

Gatou (no Gakou.. Garou?) raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconcerned.

"Are you mad? Over that?"

Badd struggled against his bindings, the chair screeching against the concrete as he moved.

"Seriously?"asked the man. "You weren't even that mad when you woke up tied to the chair."

Badd paused in his attempts to rip off the thick ropes to shoot the man a scathing look.

"Like hell I'm gonna listen to you insult MY coat when you're in those disgusting pants."

Now looking absolutely confused, the taller man looked down at his faded grey joggers.

"What's wrong with my pants? They're great for movement and kicking." As if to demonstrate that point, or intimidate Badd, he started kicking the air, each kick higher than before, the shock-wave blowing wind and dust into Badd's face.

Man, Badd hated guys like him. Just because they're hot they think they can care fuck all about fashion and still look good.

In this guy's case he'd be right but Badd's never gonna admit that.

Badd was about to tell him exactly where he could stick his ugly pants before the man slammed his foot down, loud and annoying.

"Wait, forget that, I still need you to continue writing that article. Where did I stop?"

Damnit, Badd was hoping he'd have forgotten that by now.

The man propped his chin against his fist, deep in thought.

Maybe if Badd was lucky he'd realise he'd told Badd every fucking insignificant detail about his (admittedly kinda sad) life story and let him go.

The man slammed his fist into his open palm in realisation. "I can't remember, so lets just take it from the start again!"

This man was going to give him a fucking aneurysm.

"What the HELL man! C'mon dude lay off it," Badd whined, writhing on the chair in annoyance.

"Maybe I'll be done faster if your sorry ass doesn't keep INTERRUPTING me," Garou snarled back, resuming his pacing as he prepared to re-recount his shitty life story.

The afternoon light that streamed through the high broken windows was starting to dim, casting long shadows across the abandoned warehouse they were in. The day was beginning to end. Zenko's going to be out of cram school soon, and she'd be waiting for him to pick her up.

It was starting to get colder too, Badd could see the puffs of air coming from his breath. Did Zenko bring her scarf?

"Hey man aren't you done yet? I gotta go soon, I need to pick my lil sis up," Badd called out to the slouching man, who had skulked a way off ahead, ranting about why elementary school kids have the propensity for cruelty.

Pausing in his tirade, he stalked back over.

"Fuck are you talking about? You're literally tied to a chair."

"Yeah I KNOW. That's why I'm asking if you're done, I need to go pick my sis up."

Shaggy white hair bouncing, Garou shook his head firmly. "What, no you can't just leave. I KIDNAPPED you."

"Yeah, I noticed. And how long are you gonna keep me here then? The fucking sun's already going down."

"Its only been three and a half hours," protested Garou, his thin face settling into its permanent scowl. "How are you going to write a good article about me if you don't know my entire backstory?"

Badd groaned loudly, head tilting back in exasperation. In front of him, the man didn't move, sharp golden eyes boring into Badd.

"If you be a good boy and listen, this will go by a lot faster, and you can be out to write that article and pick up your sister or whatever. Or, I could keep you here with me for much MUCH longer."

"Ugh..." Badd rolled his eyes at the obvious warning to behave. Really, did he LOOK like the type to just buckle down and keep quiet? After realising that Garou was still standing there, eyes alert and anticipating a response, he gave a resigned sigh.

"ALRIGHT, fucking hell, FINE," snapped Badd, a little too loudly, but the bastard smiled at that, lips pulling into a smarmy smirk that would have been ridiculously hot if Badd wasn't so ready punch him.

He really hoped Zenko brought her scarf. This was gonna take a while.

Luckily for the both of them, Badd was an expert in the sacred art of pretending to pay attention. Eyes glassy, he watched the man pace up and down, ever so often making a grunt or hum of agreement to whatever was being said.

Those pants Garou was wearing really DO look great for movement. They clung perfectly to that tight ass. Speaking of, now that Badd really got a look at him, this guy was toned to hell. He mentioned being 'the world's best martial artist' or something, but damn. That turtleneck he was wearing looked like it was on its last breath of life clinging to those muscles. Dude's lucky he's nice to look at because Badd'll be bored to death otherwise.

Night had fully fallen by the time the white haired man decided to pause for breath.

Badd hasn't been in the reporting biz long enough to be considered an expert, but he doubts that he really needed THAT much info from the guy to write an article on him. Usually, articles about villains are pretty short anyway.

Stuff like "Wanted: this bastard! Contact the Association if you have information" or "See this man? Better mind your own business and find somewhere to hide!". Short, sweet, to the point. Just what criminal warning articles are supposed to be. Where the hell was his supposed to insert the entire part about this loser getting beat up in elementary school? Badd's not a damn literary expert. He only got the job because of how hardy he was, and how dangerous journalist jobs can end up.

Maybe he can ask one of the interns to help him write it...

"Do you have all of that?" asked Garou (Badd's sure now, the fucker talked about himself as 'Garou the Human Monster' at least 11 times).

Badd nodded quickly, hoping to god that he was done talking about himself. Garou, perhaps having believed Badd's performance, perhaps simply needing a space to talk about... all that... seemed absurdly happy.

"Okay! You better write a good article!" Garou ordered, exuberant smile lighting up his usually swarthy face, making it look kinder and sweeter. Like how he might have been if he hadn't been weighed down by all that spite.

Huh, Badd thought, he was actually kinda cute.

"Right, don't move."

Never mind, scratch that.

Badd last remembers a throbbing pain on the back of his neck, as if someone had smacked him, and wakes up alone at a bus stop.

"Human Monster Gatou on the loose," read out Taero, swinging his legs on the park bench. Beside him, the white haired man peeled an eye open from where he sat slouched back on the bench, head propped up on the back.

"Whazzat? Kid, you're old enough to read properly right? Pronounce people's names right."

"Huh, but Uncle, that's what it says." Reaching over, Taero pushes the newspaper right into Garou's face for him to read it himself.

Golden eyes scanning the headline, Taero barely had time to sit back down before Garou shot up from the bench, snatching the newspaper out of his hand in the process. Wordlessly Garou stood there, newspaper crumpled in his grip, eyes boring into the page.

Taero knew that this Uncle was pretty prone to sudden and confusing mood shifts, but even for him this was kinda weird.

"It's pretty scary isn't Uncle? We should be careful," Taero says tentatively, peering at him from the safety of the bench.

"That's right. Real scary," muttered Garou, face absolutely murderous.

He can't believe that fucking reporter spelled his name wrong.

He's gonna kill him.

[intergalactic-nebula]

Till Kingdom Come

Chapter one

Rain. That's the first thing that her senses process. The sound of heavy rain on a leaky roof. Rey blinked a few times before realizing she was curled up in her makeshift palette on the abandoned art studio floor, the brunette female huffing quietly before closing her eyes once more and snuggling down into her scratchy blankets.

She didn't want to wake up.

She didn't want to wake up simply because that meant going outside in the wasteland that was once a city many, many years ago, but after the war with the pale beasts, and losing, most towns were ruins. Deserted ruins that barely held any life whatsoever anymore. To put it in a certain sense, Rey was in a neutral zone of sorts. A place where the pale beasts barely bothered to venture out to because it was not up to their standards and they didn't see a point to leave their more bountiful lands where they had livestock waiting for them. Livestock. The thought made Rey's eyes open as she sneered, the young woman sitting up and letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. She had blacked out the windows months ago with tape, except for small cracks just so some light could come in, just to be safe, just to make sure no one could peep in and find her hiding place.

She didn't exactly need to hide, per say, but once a scavenger, always a scavenger, and survival was the only thing that mattered to her. Rey sat there for several minutes as she just stared at the wall as the rain hit the roof, her hazel eyes burning a hole into the yellowed, practically brown now, white paint. "...BeeBee, where are you?" Rey finally called out and a loud bark resonated from within the next room, Rey sighing in relief as she stood up and stretched. A large ginger colored retriever came running into the room, the dog barking once more as it ran a singular circle around her before stopping in front of her. "You slept okay, buddy?" Rey asked softly as she kneeled down and gently rubbed his head, BeeBee barking once in response before smiling one of those famous dog smiles. She had found BeeBee wondering the streets only three months ago, the dog having miraculously showed up out of nowhere. It was concerning at first, yes, but Rey took him in none the less. If Rey had to guess, the dog's owner must've died from starvation and BeeBee must've wondered off after his owner hadn't responded to his whimpering and barking.

"Let's go out today, yeah? Go try and find food? We could try that diner again." Rey hummed with a smile and BeeBee thumped his tail against the cement floor. "Alright, let me get dressed and ready." Rey laughed quietly before standing up and walking over to the other side of the room where a heap of clothes lay. They weren't filthy, she had found that there was a certain faucet that still worked in a bathtub in a decaying apartment building not but a few blocks from where she was, and she made a trip there once a week to wash her clothes with cleaning products she finds on her scavenging hunts. The last time she had been incredibly lucky to find lemon dawn soap that had been hiding under a sink in an office building bathroom for what she guessed to be fifty years, but the lemony scent was still vibrantly there and she couldn't stop smelling her clothes for at least a good few days. She picked up her usual wear, tattered, baggy blue overalls, firefighter jacket, and white tank top. It was a strange combination of clothes, yes, but the overalls fit snug and she didn't care if they got filthy, and the firefighter jacket was thick enough to protect her from rusty metal looking to scrape her unwilling sunkissed skin.

"Alright, BeeBee, I think we should head east today. We headed north last week and we were lucky enough to find those two cans of beans, but we're going to be more thorough this time. Let's surpass our goal of two cans and try for three!" Rey projected confidently as she quickly got dressed, BeeBee barking excitedly in response as she tied her hair up in an extremely messy (and tragically tangled) bun. Rey had a comb she used, but because it was so fragile (the plastic was brittle and weak as it was melted in numerous places and has countless cracks marring it) she only used it after she just washed her hair.

It wasn't but fifteen minutes later, after Rey had munched on canned beans, and after giving some to BeeBee, that she stood by the door after putting her goggles on and wrapping a red scarf around her head as well as pulling on her tattered combat boots and thick leather gloves (which served the same purpose as the firefighter jacket). The amount of dust everywhere mixed with floating dirt particles had always irritated Rey's senses since she was a child, allergies she assumed, and she had found that covering up significantly helped a great deal amount.

It wasn't but thirty minutes later that her and BeeBee were already a mile and half away from the art studio, the young woman humming softly as BeeBee stayed high and alert for any specific scents or sounds. It was normally almost always quiet though, then again, apocalyptic cities are almost always quiet, aren't they? Rey barely encountered any other life in the rusted ruins that was once Houston, Texas, and when she did it was only shadows of other survivors that knew better than to approach and try to befriend her.

There were no friends in survival, there was only you. Rey learned that a very long time ago as a child, and a shudder ran up her spine as Unkar Plutt crossed her mind. "He's not alive anymore, Rey, it's over," Rey breathed quietly to herself as she absentmindedly hurried her footsteps. "It's over." She breathed once before pausing on top of a large piece of broken cement, BeeBee pausing beside before looking up at her with what one would describe almost eerily as a confused expression. This happened sometimes. Rey would disassociate and not even realize it until fifteen, twenty minutes had passed. BeeBee barked and huffed before gently tugging on Rey's sleeve with his teeth, Rey blinking rapidly for a second before looking down and smiling softly. "Thank you." Rey smiled a tad bit more and BeeBee huffed once more before moving forward, Rey quickly following him.

It was another good hour and a half before Rey and BeeBee reached the diner she had found a few weeks ago, the brunette quickly hurrying in with the retriever hot on her heels. "C'mon, c'mon, I couldn't have taken everything...!" Rey frantically hissed under her breath as she made a beeline for the kitchen and started tearing through the cabinets ravenously. Sometimes, hunger can make you an animal, and Rey knew this very well. She tore through all the cabinets within minutes and she had started to feel defeated before a gleam of silver caught her eye in a cabinet above her. "Is--is that...?" Rey gasped softly as she slowly reached up and pulled it out from behind a few cracked plates, the brunette's hazel green eyes blown wide as she stared down at it in awe. Soup. It was Campbell's soup. Rey practically let out a choked sob of delight as she eagerly hugged it to her chest, a wave of gratitude washing over her. The last time she had had soup was when she was small, she couldn't place her age exactly, and even now she didn't quite exactly know how old she was. She assumed eighteen or nineteen, but for all she knew she could easily be in her early twenties.

"BeeBee, soup! Soup!" Rey grinned excitedly as she called out to BeeBee and BeeBee yipped happily in response as he slammed his paws on the ground as he got in a playful position. She put the soup can in her jacket pocket before combing the kitchen for more non perishables, only to find a can of beans within her hour search. "Well, the soup is a plus, huh?" Rey sighed as she and BeeBee started walking back towards the art studio, her pace quick as she noticed the sun would be down soon. It was dangerous to be out at night, it always had been, and there was no chance in hell Rey would be outside when the sun's rays no longer licked the dusty pavement.

She made it back to the art studio just in time, the brunette slamming the door behind her before feverishly undoing the scarf on her head and ripping the goggles off as well as ripping her gloves off. She leaned her forehead against the door as she closed her eyes tiredly, her stomach loudly grumbling in protest of not eating at that very moment. "Hush, I know...I get it..." Rey muttered in exhaustion as she forced her eyes open, BeeBee already off and about sniffing the apartment to see if any scents had changed while they were gone.

She forced herself to eat the beans, having put the can of soup lovingly in a cabinet and saving it for a special occasion, as she sat on the kitchen counter quietly. The bags under her eyes were preposterous, downright ghastly, but the poor girl couldn't help that she had insomnia. She perhaps only got an hour or two of sleep a day, going to sleep around twelve in the afternoon only to wake up at one or two, sometimes even three if she was lucky. Nothing felt...real. Sitting on the kitchen counter didn't feel real. Chewing and tasting didn't feel real. Was she dreaming? "No," Rey announced sternly as she put the cracked bowl down, the brunette wiping the back of her mouth with her hand. "No, I am not dreaming, I am here. I am real." She breathed shakily, but it sounded like she didn't believe it. She didn't, in all honesty, for there were days where she was convinced she was dead and this was limbo. Those were the worst days. "I'm--I--I need sleep," She choked on her words slightly as she jumped off the counter, the girl rushing to the main room and quickly burrowed herself in her palette.

The blankets were scratchy and, at one point, gave her hives, but it was all she had. It was the only blanket she had ever owned that she had found herself. It was hers, and so she dealt with it. "BeeBee, guard the door," Rey's words were slurred as she felt exhaustion take over, her eyes fluttering closed as blackness captivated her vision.

What she didn't see was the man on the glass roof staring down at her with wide red eyes, rain drizzle sliding down his ivory cheeks and kissing his tresses.

[chameleonspell]

193: shared

For as long as he had known Celegorn, Iriel had known about the Words. That a central part of Cel's daily rituals was the Writing of his Words. That for one blissfully peaceful hour, the Bosmer would retreat to his room, lock the door, and vanish from Ire's consciousness, save for faint scribbling sounds, and occasional screeches for someone to fetch him more paper or pencils. Later, Iriel would hear him emerge, arms laden with paper, heading for the furnace, where he would stuff them all inside. If anyone tried to read them, he would twitch his ears and hiss.

Insomuch as he gave the matter the slightest thought, Iriel had assumed he wrote poetry. Probably the angry, incoherent kind favoured by some of Ire's edgier friends in the Imperial City, involving a lot of swearing and capital letters. Or perhaps political manifestos, which, in Ire's mind, were indistinguishable from the poetry. As it turned out, he'd been wrong. Cel's words were just that. Words. "Sometimes he gets one stuck in his head, yeah?" Bodu informed him, digging an elbow into the yielding armrest of his sand-moulded beach throne. "And then he can't get it out till he writes it enough times. Then it comes out, and he can burn it, he says." Leaning on the outside of the sand-throne, cupping a pipe in his hands, Iriel wrinkled his nose. "Like when you write a word so many times, you start to doubt whether it's really a word, and not just a meaningless jumble of noises and letters?" "Kinda." Bodu extended his jaw, the better to scrape something off his tusk with a thumbnail. "Except kinda the other way around." "What?" "Ah, forget it." Since the Ahemmusa had no paper, and refused to spare him animal hides, Celegorn had been forced to adopt an entirely new paradigm. For the first time, he was making his words public. Now, everyone could share in the Words. "BODU!" Cel's shout echoed up from the shoreline. "How many Bs?" Bodu squinted down the twilit beach, to where Cel had scraped the letters GIB across the damp sand, with a stick. "Two, bro," he called. "Then it's, like, an E, I think?" He slid a glance at Iriel, who nodded. Celegorn's prized Imperial Dictionary of the Tamrielic Language hadn't made it to the Grazelands, but he was making up the deficit with crowdsourcing. "I don't see why it matters how he spells it," Ire muttered to Bodu. "As long as he thinks it looks right, who cares what the dictionary says?" He took a final drag on the kreshweed, and passed the clay pipe to Ulabael on his other side. Bodu yawned. "Nah, pal, he's got to get the letters right, that's part of it." He scratched vaguely at the back of his head. "He says it's somethin' about forcing the sounds back into a normative ontology an' trapping them in a coercive framework of imposed meaning." Ire stared at him, until the smoke burned his lungs, and he broke into an explosive cough. "You two are fucking weird," he choked. Celegorn finished "GIBBET" and started on "SPOONS", his pale form swaying and spinning against the darkening sea. Shani was next to him, hair aflame with the last of the sunset, dancing in and out of the surf on her toes. She claimed not to read, but when Celegorn let her, she would help him copy out the words, imitating the letter-shapes in the sand, until he was satisfied. Doing it this way had been her idea, once she'd understood the purpose. "You can make them," she'd said, "and then let the sea eat them, when the tide comes in. I do it with pictures all the time." "IRIEL!" Ire winced, but flailed an answering hand in Cel's direction. "The fuck d'you want?" "HOW THE FUCK DO YOU SPELL 'CHITINOUS'?" "Wha' the fuck makes you think I know how the fuck to spell 'chitinous'?" "You fucking look like a fucking man who knows how the fuck to spell 'chitinous'!" "Fuck you!" Cel maintained that yurts were fundamentally flawed, in terms of security, and he refused to trust them with his valuables. As a result, some fourteen knives, of various shapes and sizes, hung from his belt. (As did a small pair of shorts, to Ire's infinite relief.) Julan had asked, once, where one of these knives had come from. Cel had beamed at his interest. "This pretty thing," he'd said, "I found buried deeeeeep, six feet deep in the mud at the bottom of the Balmora river!" "What in Oblivion were you doing down there?" Julan had demanded. "Looking for knives!" Julan had ground his jaw. "That... checks out," he'd said, reluctantly. As Cel sprinted up the beach towards him, arms held out, Ire began frantically chanting letters at him like a warding spell. With a gleeful hop, Cel returned to the surf, twirling his stick like a majorette. He no longer had access to moon sugar, but endless space to run around and scream in, coupled with the sea air, and Ulabael's equally endless supply of kreshweed, seemed to be providing some counterbalance. He looked happier than Ire had ever seen him. Bodu passed Iriel the bottle of greef. Ire was about to hand it on without drinking, when the knot of worry in his chest twinged and tightened, changing his mind. He took a long pull, swallowed, almost retched, then spat out a fly. "Here," he told Ulabael, as he passed it to him. "I sieved it for you." Ulabael nodded his thanks from the sand. He lay flat on his back with a serene smile, long black hair fanning out around him like a halo of void. "Ads is far too mature for beach drinking," Ulabael had smirked, when Iriel had asked if his partner Addammus would be joining them. "He is the old and sensible one, and I am the unrespectable youth with the bad habits." Shani was running towards them, now. "Hey!" she shouted at Bodu. "You're in my throne! Get out of my throne!" "Ah, c'mon..." Bodu protested, as she pulled at his arm. "You weren't using it!" "Get out, before I kick you out!" "You'd kick a guy with broken legs out of a chair? That's cold!" "I'll break his arms, too, if he's not careful! Out!" Much giggling and squabbling ensued, Shani forcing her way into the chair, while Bodu tried to sit on her lap, until the entire thing disintegrated into a heap of sand, limbs and howls of laughter. Iriel got up and slouched away, suddenly feeling very old, or at least, like the only adult present. Perhaps he should have stayed in the camp with Minabibi, and helped her chop herbs. Or followed Rakeem's lead, and marched back to camp with a disapproving frown, as soon as Ulabael had produced the liquor from his gather-sack with a flourish. Only slightly unstably, he left the circle of tawny light flickering out from the ramshackle driftwood fire. He wouldn't dream of interrupting Celegorn, so he turned inland instead, towards the point where stones and dry, leggy grasses began to clog the dingy little beach, until it was the Grazelands again. As he climbed a dune, the wind caught the back of his top - the pinkish sleeveless thing he'd found in Gnisis. It billowed out, making him shiver, and regret leaving his scarf on the beach. The day had been so hot, he'd forgotten how fast the temperature could drop, by the sea after dark. It was Last Seed. Late summer, and a full year since he'd arrived in Morrowind. In another moons' turn, everyone said, the camp would move again. East, to where the grazing was worse, but there was more protection from the winds, and they would arrive at Vos in time for the yearly guar trading meet between the clans. Kausi was already grieving over which of his babies he had resolved to part with, changing his mind five times a day. "He's not allowed to come with me to the trade meet any more," Sen had said. "Or he tries to buy them all back in worse deals, as soon as my back's turned. One year, he lost his damn shoes." For now, Ahemmusa camp lay in the distance, the amiable glow of the buglamps and the gently clashing chords of the wind chimes inviting him closer. He was a welcome guest, he knew, had been for over a week, now. He was still uneasy around the elders and some of the more boisterous warriors, but in general, people were polite, or left him alone. Besides, he had friends. All in all, there was no reason for him to stumble around alone in the dark, fretting over things he couldn't control. He caught his foot on a tussock, steadied himself again on a boulder. Yet here we are again. The area around him, between the camp lights and the beach fire, was quickly shadowing into an expanse of black nothing, a hole to lose himself in. He held up a hand: barely visible. Who needs illusion spells? Even now, it's easier here, being hidden, slipping safely into the cracks between real places, solid states. Perhaps it always will be. But... as long as I know I'm here... know who I am, and where I should be... I can keep myself together. Even when I'm alone, I can be enough for myself. But... He looked from the beach to the clustered yurts. Then he wrapped his arms around his chest, and sighed. "Iyaaaa!" came a distant shout, and even with his hair braided back tighter than usual, he knew Julan's silhouette. By the time Iriel reached him, Julan had dropped his pack and shield to the grass, the better to embrace him properly. Ire fell into his arms, beaming and breathless. "You shitbag!" he exclaimed. "It's been three fucking days, I thought you were dead!" "Sorry. Between leaving the cavern with the bones, and taking them to Sinnammu, I went to see Mother. Ended up staying longer than I meant to. We... had a lot to talk about." Iriel didn't just police his tone of voice, he subjected it to military occupation. "Oh?" "Yeah, I..." Julan huffed warm breath into Iriel's neck, kissed his skin then pulled away. "You're gonna hate it, but... I forgave her." His eyes shone dimly in the dark, with a brighter flash as they lifted to meet Ire's. "I don't hate it." Ire wasn't sure if Julan could see him smile, but he did it anyway. "I said I'd support your decision. Anyway, whatever my thoughts about your mother, I'm not going to... project things. True, the only thing I want from my mother now is for her to pretend I don't exist, but... you and your mother aren't me and mine. I do realise that, you know. And I understand you might want different things from yours." Julan shrugged, and made an exhausted gesture. "I don't know about any of that. I only know I want to forgive her. No, not even that. I know I want to be the sort of person who forgives her." He attempted a laugh. "I guess it's pretty selfish." Iriel hugged him again. "Good." "I said she'd have to accept a few things. That I'm not going to be living there with her any more. That I'm an adult, I get to make my own choices, and she can like it or shut up. That one of my choices... is you." "What?" Ire's chest turned to water, shapeless and spilling. "You... told her?" "Ah... yeah. She took it... better than I thought. Eye twitched hard, for a minute, then she pretended like she already knew." Ire's chest was bubbling, now, fizzing into his throat, bursting into a grin. "As long as she keeps to the 'shut up' part of the deal, I don't care." "Actually... I think she likes you. That's a new one. I... really don't know what to do with that." "Oh gods." Ire dropped his forehead onto Julan's shoulder. "You do realise, that's twice as terrifying as her hating me?" At this point, Shani and Celegorn, bored of watching their handiwork get swallowed by the sea, caught sight of them, and for a while, all chance for private conversation was lost. The next few hours were spent around the fire on the beach. Iriel stretched himself out across the sand, head resting on Julan's thighs, while Julan described his journey through the Daedra caves, answering Bodu's eager questions, and parrying Shani's reflexive mockery. Celegorn and Ulabael snored gently, leaving Ire to monopolise the kreshweed pipe. Ahemmusa life began early, however, so it was well before midnight when Bodu whistled for Pasha, and Shani shook the others awake long enough for them all to help each other stagger back across the grasslands to their beds. Technically, Julan no longer being Mamaea's patient, he was still outcast, and should sleep at his mother's camp. For his part, Ire had a borrowed bedroll in the yurt Ulabael shared with Addammus. Ire liked them well enough, but the fire was warm, and now that he and Julan had the beach to themselves, neither was in any hurry to move. Julan had been staring into the flames for some time, jaw sliding slowly back and forth. Ire reached up and poked him. "You OK, n'wah?" he rasped, in gruff imitation. Julan blinked at him, eyes slowly refocusing into the present. "Ah... yeah. I just... thought I'd feel different, you know?" "About what?" "My father. I thought if I found his body, I'd... I dunno... feel some kind of connection. That bringing his spirit home would make me feel like I was really his son, or something. When I was in the cavern, I did feel like he was... close, maybe. Trying to... I'm not sure. But later, when Sinnammu guided his soul through the Waiting Door, she told me he... said things." Ire tried to sift the emotion from Julan's vacant tone, but obtained too little to analyse. "Bad things?" he ventured. "No! No... good things. Things a father should say. That it should make me feel better, to hear, but..." "You think Sinnammu was making it up, to placate you?" "I think... it doesn't matter. That I'm glad I brought him back, for the tribe's sake, but none of it really makes him my father. He's just this man I hardly knew. But... maybe that's all right." His eyebrows jerked upwards. "Anyway," he said, breaking into a grin, "some of my relatives are easier to find. At my mother's, I met Fedura." "Who?" "My grandmother." "Oh! You mean Talammu?" Julan laughed. "Talammu's not her name, that just means 'grandmother'. Although, from what she told me, it's as accurate as any other of her names. Seems like deceiving your children runs in my family." Ire wrinkled his nose. "I thought she was supposed to be some sort of... kidnapped Redoran noblewoman, or something." "I know. So did my mother." Julan was wearing a smirk of indescribable smugness. "Funny story, actually. Turns out, she was never any kind of noblewoman. She was a slave, owned by an Ald'ruhn clothier, whose cart overturned in the Ashlands, leaving her the only survivor. When she saw the Urshilaku coming, she put on the fine clothes they were carrying, in the hope they'd seek a ransom, instead of killing her. By the time the tribe realised no one was coming for her, she'd charmed half the camp, and the ashkhan made her his wife." Ire glared up at him through a haze of kreshweed smoke. "Julan, if anything, that makes her story even more horrible than it already was! Stop looking so happy about this, just because your mother was lied to!" "Ah, but that's not all." His eyebrows waggled, mysteriously. "I always hated my name, because it wasn't Velothi. All Mother would tell me was that when she named me, she was furious with her own people. She'd been exiled by both the Urshilaku and the Ahemmusa, and she decided she'd name me for Molag Bal before she'd name me for any of them. The only people she still cared about were her mother and sister, and, well, I was a boy. But she remembered her mother used to tell stories about her brother, who'd been a brave and noble warrior, and whose sudden death at a young age broke her heart. So Mother named me for him, instead." "Hold on. Your grandmother was a slave, but she somehow had a noble Redoran brother?" "No. She lied about that, too." "You were named after a lie?" "Not exactly. Julan existed, Fedura told me, but he wasn't her brother, and he wasn't Redoran. Did you never realise, she asked my mother, that Julan isn't a proper Dunmeri name? What do you mean, my mother said, it is city-Dunmeris, it means 'benefit', or 'blessing', like the name of the gah-julan armour style. And my grandmother made this odd face, and said, well yes, technically it means that. But in the cities, the most common usage is something closer to 'servant', or 'helper'. Or 'the help'." Realisation dawned, and Ire's eyes widened. "It's a slave-name." Julan's teeth flashed again in the firelight. "An Argonian slave-name. Mother was horrified." Ire snorted. "Ohhh, I see. So that's why you're happy." "I'm not just happy because Mother got a scrib up her skirt! I'm happy because I never wanted to be named after some fancypants Redoran noble. This is far better. Especially as it means so much to my grandmother. Julan was no warrior, she said, but he was brave, and he did die young, in the cart crash. They'd grown up as slaves together, and she loved him a lot. She was deeply moved that I shared his name, even if it wasn't his real, Argonian one." "I'm happy for you," Iriel told him. "Especially since you'll have plenty of time to become the Ebon Crest, now that you don't have to be Nerevar any more." The joke was out of his mouth before he could stop it, but fortunately for Ire, Julan didn't flinch. He even laughed, weakly, then quietened, a pensive look returning to his face. "I mean... that's over," Iriel prompted, suddenly wary. "Isn't it?" "What is?" "All this prophecy guarshit... everything that's not... not lying in your lap, a little drunk, and a lot high, all under some very pretty stars." Julan didn't reply for a while, his fingers slipping into Iriel's hair and idling across his scalp. Then: "Why would it be over?" he said softly. "Aren't you going to show the Moon-and-Star to the Urshilaku, and--" Iriel's head jerked out of his lap, twisting to stare at him. "Why the fuck would I do that?! Sweetheart, I told you! It's a scam, a piece of empty metal!" "So you say, but... how can you be sure?" "Try it on yourself, if you don't believe me!" "And if you're wrong, and I die? Explode into a big, bloody mess of 'Told you so'?" Ire let his head fall back. "Gods, I wouldn't put it past you, just to spite me. No, I suppose you'd better not try it. That scheming shitbag Azura would zap you herself, purely to teach us a lesson." "Better watch your tongue, or you'll be the one getting cursed." "She can come and do it to my fucking face, then." Iriel narrowed his eyes at the constellations, sprawling out above them in all their wild, deceptive beauty and mindless cosmic machinations. "Fuck prophecies," he said. "Fuck stars, fuck bloodlines. I've changed my mind about a lot of things, you know, but nothing will ever convince me that any of us was born to do anything, or that the circumstances of your birth dictate your existence. And you know what?" He wobbled a finger at Julan "That would still be true, even if one of us was Nerevar reborn. Even if we had his soul, it wouldn't fucking matter, it wouldn't mean we had to do anything! Let alone climb a fucking live volcano and try to kill a diseased demigod!" "OK." Julan stroked his hair in a soothing manner. "Let's say I believe you." "Good." "Let's say you're completely right about everything you just said." "Thank you, I am." "Let's do it anyway." "Exactl-- ...what?" Julan's hand slid down Ire's brow and traced the side of his face. "What if we didn't do it because of a prophecy, or a curse, or Imperial blackmail, or anything like that. What if we did it because it was the right thing to do, and somebody has to?" Iriel looked up at him, transfixed by the flame in his eyes, the steel in his voice. He said nothing, but pressed his own hand over the rough fingers cupping his cheek. "We could do it," Julan was saying. "We've done so much already, climbed so many mountains, what's one more? We've broken into Dwemer vaults, defeated great evils." His voice softened. "There's so much suffering. I know we can't fix everything, but we can't fix anything, unless we try. Don't you want to change things? You said you were too scared, but that's not true. You're the bravest person I know." Iriel's brow contracted in disbelief, but Julan smoothed it with his thumb. "You're scared all the time," he said, "and you do things anyway. So let's do this, Iya. I can be strong when I'm with you, and I know you can, too. Together, we can be strong enough." Ire stared at him a moment longer, then closed his eyes, giggling helplessly. "Gods," he gasped. "You almost had me! With that ridiculous romantic cliché! You just looked so... heroic, there, for a moment!" Julan's mouth pulled into an embarrassed half-smile. "It's funny," he said. "I grew up believing I had to be a hero, but I didn't know how. And now--" "Because real people aren't heroes!" Ire interrupted, a reckless gesture sending his pipe flying out of his hand. "Heroes are symbols, fictional characters! Even the ones based on real people probably bear no relation to who they actually were!" "I think you're wrong. I think it's like what you said about kindness. Being a hero is when you don't have to do something, when it's not your job, or your duty, or your responsibility, but you do it anyway. And even if you’re right, even if heroes are just symbols in stories... maybe Morrowind needs this story. Maybe the Nerevarine needs to be closer to the Ebon Crest than... whoever Indoril Nerevar really was, when he was alive." "I'm too fucking high for this. Or not high enough. What are you suggesting, exactly?" "Neither of us is Nerevar," Julan said slowly. "Because whatever happened to his soul, Nerevar was a certain person, at a certain time. He was unique." "Right, and he's dead! Gone, disappeared, body decayed to ashes and rot, memory dissolved into magic and void! Let him stay dead! Why can nobody be allowed to rest, in this country?" "Iya, just listen. We aren't Nerevar, but we don't need Nerevar. Morrowind needs the Nerevarine. The Nerevarine is a hero, but if you're right, and heroes aren't people, that means the Nerevarine doesn't need to be a person. At least... not one person. It doesn't matter who they are, if the story is what will be remembered. We could... do things that leave the right legend behind. We could create a Nerevarine." Iriel's expression could have tangled wool. "You make us sound like those horrible children in Ebonheart, with a fake corpse in a cart." "Hah! Maybe! I don't think either of us could do it alone. It's going to take both of us to push it." "You're... that's..." Iriel gave up on finding the right words. "Listen, love," he said. "You know I don't say things like this lightly. But you're completely insane." Rolling out of Julan's lap, he went hunting for his pipe, and stonewalled any attempt to return to the topic. As midnight came and went, Iriel lay on his side, watching the pale ash-ghosts of the driftwood crumble, and the embers fade. Julan was behind him, an arm curled around his waist. Without turning to see his face, Ire wasn't sure if he was still awake, but then the arm tightened, and Ire heard: "I brought the things you left at my mother's. We could sleep right here, it's not going to rain." Ire recognised the hidden itch in his voice and grinned. "Why don't I believe this has anything to do with sleeping?" "Well..." Julan pressed against him. "It's been too long. Feels like weeks since--" "Oh, so you've already forgotten about when Mamaea went out for marshmerrow, and I--" "Too long since I did something for you." "Ohhh, I'm so sorry!" Iriel squirmed in his grasp, enough to tease, but not to risk actually breaking free. "I forgot, it's all about yielding, isn't it? So competitive, so martial. You want to be the winner at sex, do you?" "I want you." "Never fuck on a beach, you said. Always a disaster, you said." "I've got a blanket, in my pack--" Julan broke off, laughing. "...not that it ever helps." He yanked Ire's hip towards him, rolling him onto his back. "D'you know how I know it's always a disaster?" He pushed up Ire's shirt and began kissing his belly, scraping teeth along soft skin that tautened as Ire arched his back. "Because," Julan said, indistinctly, "I always end up doing it anyway." Iriel was veering between giggles and moans. "Surely," he gasped, "things can't get too disastrous, with just hands and mouths?" Julan paused, halfway down Ire's buttons. "Say that again when I've got so much grit on my tongue, you feel like I'm sanding you down three sizes." "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll just... hh...  pretend you're a Khajiit." Later, swaddled in the blanket with Julan dozing against his shoulder, Iriel gazed up at the night sky again. "You know," he said dreamily, "some people believe that everyone has a soulmate. One person in all the world that is completely perfect for them, hearts joined in destiny by the stars. Romance novels are full of them." Julan stirred. "Mhmm?" "And... I want you to know, my love..." Iriel twined his fingers in loose strands of Julan's hair, escaping its braids across his collarbone. "...if yours ever shows up for you, I'm going to hit him with a rake. Or her, I won't be sexist about it. They're going to have to fucking fight me." A sleepy chuckle. "Thought you weren't the jealous type." "I'm not! But I am very selfish, and I was here first." "Uh huh. So what happens when yours turns up, then?" "Did I say I was selfish? I meant to say I'm very generous. You can share me." "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind." The night passed. The stars, whatever their qualities and influence, faded away, and the sun rose. Iriel shifted awake. His head was buried deep inside the blanket roll, but when he moved, he felt cold, clammy sand grind against his bare toes. Other things began to percolate. Racer-cries, the smell of woodsmoke, and a soft, scraping, clinking sound he couldn't identify. He sat up, fighting his head and shoulders clear of the blanket, eyes scrunched against the light. "Morning, love." Julan was sitting a short distance away, fully dressed and bent over something. "I dug out the kettle, so there's tea brewing." As his eyes adjusted, Iriel saw Julan had a set of small, redware bowls in front of him. One held water, freshly boiled, judging by the steam. The others were more mysterious. The one in Julan's hand contained a greasy, black paste, which he was stirring with a thin, bone-like implement. "When you're ready," he said, "I'm gonna need you to help me with something." Iriel mashed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. "Help...?" Julan put down the pot, and took up a small, sharp knife, which had been resting in the water-bowl. "Yeah, I need you to hold my wrist steady for me. Stop the skin moving on this part of my forearm." "What?" Iriel blinked. "What are you doing with that knife? And what the fuck have you got in there?" "Ink! Well, ashes and shalk-oil, but I'm pretty sure this is the right mix." Frowning, Iriel leaned closer. "I thought I heard you discussing ink with Ulabael, last night." "Mm. He dropped by this morning, before he went to check his scrib-traps. Lent me his kit, told me the basics. You mark lines with the dagger, and dots with the awl, then rub ink into the wound, so it binds into the scar. Slowly, so you can't use healing spells." "Sweet Mara." Iriel watched in horrified fascination, as Julan rolled up his left sleeve and skimmed the fine hair off the back of his forearm with the blade. "You're really going to... wh..." Abruptly, he narrowed his eyes at Julan. "Is all this because you're still scared the Urshilaku might want to mark me, and then I'd have tattoos before you? Because I never agreed we were even going back, so--" "No! ...OK, maybe. But only a little. It's almost completely not about that." "I see. So... what are you going to... mark?" Julan picked up the bone-thing Iriel supposed must be the awl, and washed it off in the water. "I was thinking... sort of an arrowhead design. Kind of like a hunt-band mark, representing a bond between people who've fought and killed together. I don't have a hunt-band, but... I have you. I want to mark it." "I don't want you to define our bond by who we've killed together!" Iriel's face was such a picture of distress that Julan almost laughed. "It's not really about that!" he said. "It's more about... I dunno... success and failure. Mistakes, too, and guilt. Shared blood and spilled, and bearing the consequences." "Is that a real Ashlander thing, or did you just make all that up?" "I'm a real Ashlander, so if I made it up, it's a real Ashlander thing." "You don't need to make your own up, now. You'll have proper ones, someday." "I know. That's why I want this one to be first." "Wait, so... shouldn't I have one too?" "Well... only if you want. I know you hate pain, so I wasn't going to--" "Of course I fucking do, stop coddling me." "OK." "I'll scream and cry, but you have to ignore me." "OK." next: 194: dusk previous: 192: living beginning: 1: numb

[sachiel21]

Ch 16 - First Date - More Than Meets The Eye

A/N I haven’t posted any writing on my tumblr for a looong time so here goes nothing. Link to story found here ffnet and ao3

Me: *Cracks knuckles and prepares to write fluff*

+Come out tonight?+ Blake looked at her phone and smiled at the text. The trip to LA was an emotional roller coaster for her and it had been about a week since they got back. Yang was being so patient with her, giving her space to decompress which she sincerely appreciated, but Blake was starting to miss the fiery blonde though. -What did you have in mind?- The reply came back almost instantly: +It's a surprise ;)+ -Well I guess I can't refuse then- +Pick you up at 5 :)+

Blake could hear the hum of Yang's motorbike before she stepped outside her door. The blonde had her helmet on and was grinning up at her through her aviator sunglasses. She got off the bike and took off her leather jacket, placing it around Blake's shoulders. "It might get a little windy." "What about you?" Blake asked. Yang was just wearing a long sleeved yellow T-shirt and the scarf she got her Christmas. "I'm used to it." She handed her a black helmet with a red rose design. "I hope you don't mind wearing Ruby's helmet. I promise she doesn't have cooties." Blake laughed and put the helmet on. She got on the back of the bike and hesitantly put her arms around Yang's waist. "So what do I do?" It was her first time riding on a motorcycle. "Just hold on tight," Yang said with a wink.

Despite Yang promising her that she'd take it slower, Blake found herself desperately latched on to Yang and shutting her eyes for most of the ride. They weaved in out of traffic. Blake tried to lean in with Yang for every turn like she instructed even though it made her feel like she was about to fall. Finally they arrived at their destination downtown, Tom McCall Waterfront Park. "Do you want your jacket back?" Blake asked as she dismounted the motorcycle. "Nah, it looks better on you," Yang replied. And she meant it, the black and yellow leather jacket was slightly big on Blake but it hugged her in all the right places. They started walking on the park path by the river. It was April and the cherry blossoms were in full bloom with a bright shade of pink speckling their branches. It was beautiful. The spring air smelled crisp with a hint of rain and the green scent of new growth. They walked with the sun at their back, the golden light from the late afternoon sun creating long shadows in front of them. Yang affectionately shoulder nudged Blake, smiling as she took her hand and laced their fingers together. Blake felt lighter as she walked, like the dark cloud hanging over had finally dissipated. She had Yang to thank for that. "What?" Yang asked, noticing Blake was looking at her carefully. "Nothing… You just look really pretty in the light." Yang beamed at her and slipped her arm around her waist, pulling her close as they strolled along. When they approached the two monuments of Friendship Circle, Blake drifted toward the steel railing and started watching the river as it went by, a roiling ebb and flow. She felt strangely comforted by the notion that the rivers would continue to flow and the world would go on no matter what terrible things happened in the past. That things could get better and there would be new opportunities to make things right. Maybe all was not lost after all. As Blake was silently contemplating, Yang walked over and gently wrapped her arms around her shoulders from behind. Blake closed her eyes and leaned back into her, knowing Yang would never let her fall. They stood there for a long time watching the river together until the sun started to set. "Hungry?" Yang asked, bumping their cheek bones together. "Starving." They walked back to the motorcycle and went to a fifties diner that was close by. When their order arrived, Blake opened her burger and carefully pulled out the raw onion slices. She saw Yang looking at her oddly. "I just don't want to taste onions all night," Blake explained. Yang smiled and started pulling out the onions in her burger as well. "Yang, you don't have to do that, I know you like them." "Yeah but you don't. Compromise is important in a relationship," Yang said with a laugh. Truthfully, her thoughts were alight with the possibility of a kiss at the end of the night. Onion breath would be a turn-off. Yang took a bite, humming appreciatively as she relished the rich taste of ground beef with the tangy pickles, ketchup and mustard. "Have you… Have ever dated a girl before?" Blake asked tentatively. "No, first time," Yang replied, taking a sip of her chocolate milkshake. Blake quietly sipped her strawberry milkshake, remembering the time Coco and Yang kissed at the party. It seemed pretty easy for Yang to do it. "I mean I've had crushes before but nothing… But nothing quite like this…" the blonde said, meeting her eyes briefly and blushing a little. "Have you?" Blake shook her head. She had only been in one relationship before she met Yang. "How's your dad doing?" "Good," came the automatic response, but then Yang caught herself. She realized she didn't need to pretend with Blake of all people. "He's… He's drinking less lately." They took a few bites in silence, an unpleasant tension settling around them. "My dad's not a bad person," Yang said suddenly. "… I know…" "It's just that… After mom died, a part of him seemed to die too... It took him a while but he's doing a lot better now than he was before…" Blake nodded. She was sorry she brought it up, seeing the sullen expression in Yang's eyes as she picked at her fries. "What was she like?" A smile came to Yang's face as she fondly remembered. "Summer? She was like super mom. Baker of cookies and slayer of giant closet monsters," she said with a chuckle. "She always gave me and Ruby so much love, even when we were bad and we didn't listen..." Even when I wasn't her own flesh and blood. "She sounds like an amazing person," Blake said. "She was... She was the best…" They finished their meal at a comfortable pace, talking about lighter subjects; if Jaune was going to get the guts to finally ask Pyrrha to the dance, which Ivy League school Weiss was applying to, and Ruby's latest engineering project. It was around eight when they left the diner, late in the evening but too early for bed. Neither of them wanted the night to end yet. "What do you want to do now?" Blake shrugged. "What is there to do?" Yang tapped her chin, trying to think of a place to go. As underage highschoolers, there weren't that many things to do at night. She had a feeling that Blake wouldn't enjoy sneaking into a loud club with her fake ID. "I've got it!" Yang announced suddenly. Uh oh, Blake thought. Yang had this look in her eyes, like she was up to something, but her smile was so bold and tempting that Blake couldn't resist. They rode to a different part of town and pulled up to a building with a red neon sign of a bowling pin. "Bowling?" Blake asked dubiously. "It'll be fun!" The bowling alley was dimly lit except for the lanes, a few of them were in the dark and lit up with neon colours for glow bowling. Blake's nose wrinkled at the astringent smell of spray disinfectant and musty pine. "Give it a chance," Yang said. They got their footwear, flat soled and slippery bottomed with blue and red patches of leather that reminded Blake of clown shoes. They were assigned Lane 18. Yang entered their names into the rudimentary computer so it would show up on the screen above the lane. She put down 'Firecracker' for herself and Blake picked 'Blake', a safe but respectable choice. The raven haired girl was up first. How hard could it be, Blake thought as she picked up her ball and walked up to the foul line. Apparently very hard as the ball slipped off her fingers on the swing and landed backwards with a loud thud on the wooden planks. Oops. Yang did her best to stifle her laughter but it was just too funny. "C'mon. Let's go pick out a different ball, one that won't slip off your bony fingers." "They're not bony…" Blake grumbled as she followed her to the ball shelf. Even with a ball with holes that fit her fingers better, Blake had trouble hitting even one pin, rolling gutter ball after gutter ball. Yang was definitely kicking her ass, rolling a few strikes and spares. Blake brooded on the hard plastic bench. She didn't show it very often but she had a competitive streak. She hated to lose. The only upside of the situation was she got to watch Yang as she bowled, the way she gracefully bent her long legs in position, and how her back curved when she released the ball. She was an athlete in every sense of the word and it showed. Luckily for Blake, halfway through the game they just stopped keeping score, grandma bowling the ball between their legs and tossing it backwards with colourful flare. Yang whirled Blake around by the waist when she somehow got a strike without trying at all. Blake's laughter rang high and light, a sweet melodic sort of sound that Yang wanted to hear more of. When she set her down, the effect was decidedly different than when she manhandled Ruby and her other friends. Blake had her arms around her neck and their faces were flushed, panting slightly from the exertion. Yang thought she saw something akin to desire in Blake's eyes when her gaze flitted down to her mouth, but the raven haired girl just pulled away and smirked in a way that was both enthralling and maddening. It was at that moment that Yang knew she was in trouble. She was falling hard but she couldn't find it in herself to care. "Did you have a good time?" Yang asked as she helped Blake off the bike. They were outside her house. The night air smelled like damp grass and soil, it felt cool against her skin. "It was wonderful." They slowly walked to the front door, taking longer, more drawn out steps than usual. It was the end of their first date and Yang started to feel nervous with anticipation. "Well… Goodnight…" Yang said, running a hand through her hair. Blake smiled softly, looking deeply into her eyes. Yang hesitated for a moment and then made up her mind as she gently cupped Blake's cheek and pressed her lips to hers in a soft kiss. Blake twined her fingers through Yang's golden hair and pulled her even closer. The kiss was slow and measured at first. Blake thought she could feel Yang holding back ever so slightly, like she was worried about coming on too strong. She wanted Yang to stop thinking. Experimentally, she ran the tip of her tongue across the line of Yang's lips and was rewarded with a surprised gasp that allowed her to slip her tongue fully into her mouth. It was her turn to let out a satisfied sigh when she felt Yang's tongue responding in-kind, sliding against hers in slow massaging strokes. It wasn't their first kiss but it felt different than the two they had shared before. The first was rough and impulsive. The second was tearful and consoling. This one was full of hunger and desire and both of them craved more. They paused every once in a while to take a quick breath but they always returned, faster and deeper than before. Eventually they had to stop completely when the need for oxygen became too great. Yang rested their foreheads together. "Wow…" "Yeah…" Blake agreed as she lightly brushed her lips against Yang's, coaxing her into another long drawn out kiss. As much as Yang wanted to keep going, she knew that they should stop or they'd be out there all night. She reluctantly pulled away. "See you tomorrow?" Yang ran her fingers over Blake's hands which were cradling her face. Blake nodded. "Yeah… Tomorrow," she said slowly. Yang chuckled at her breathlessness. "Goodnight, Blake." "Goodnight, Yang."

[yaminerua]

2 (sidewalk) and ritsu+shou or 56 (important) and iyami?

I did a bit for both but I’m not sure how well I did haha;;;

Hope you like~

2. Ritsu and Shou - Sidewalk

Ritsu had told himself many times that he oughtto be used to the random unpredictability of Shou’s appearances by now. Heshould practically expect him to come leaping out of the bushes or tomaterialise in front of him at any given moment. It should be expected. Italways is. And yet…

“Hey, Ritsu!” a voice yelled suddenlyinto his ear, warm breath ghosting over his skin without warning, too close forcomfort, and despite everything - despite knowing it was coming andtelling himself he’d be ready for it - Ritsu Kageyama jumped with surpriseanyway, heartbeat stuttering embarrassingly in his chest and heat rushing topool in his cheeks.

Hearty laughter from the right filled the air anda firm hand slapped his shoulder playfully as a flash of fiery red hair finallycame into view beside him, freckled face beaming broadly, bright blue eyessparkling with mischief. “Man, that never gets old,” Shou said,giving him another friendly thump on the shoulder. “You’re so jumpy!”

Ritsu simply rolled his eyes and directed hisglare towards the ground, willing the heat in his cheeks to recede. It wasembarrassing that he still got caught off-guard like that and even worse toknow that Shou was doing this simply for the sake of making him reactthis way. One day he swore he’d be so ready for it that he’d be able to meethis next surprise appearance with a deadpan. One day but evidently not today…

They fell immediately into step together, Shouyammering on about how he’d forgotten that Ritsu had student council duties toattend to and had spent the better part of half an hour waiting bored out ofhis mind outside the gates to Salt Middle School for him to show up in order tostartle him. Ritsu suppressed a chuckle at that, shaking his head and yieldingto the slight smile that was tugging up the corners of his mouth. “Iliterally told you I had a meeting today,” he said. “How couldyou just forget?”

“I thought you meant before school,not after!” was Shou’s reply, stated as if it was the most obvious thingin the world. “And anyway why did it have to take so long? What do youguys even talk about in there?”

Ritsu gave a simple shrug and answered with,“I dunno. School stuff - like dealing with bullies, preventing litteringand”-he shot a wry smile in Shou’s direction-“stopping suspiciouspeople from loitering around the gates.”

Shou met his remark with a snort. “Veryfunny,” he said sarcastically, crossing his arms smugly over his chest.“They wouldn’t have been able to see me anyway, genius.”

He drifted closed to Ritsu’s side letting someteens in another school’s uniform pass them on the sidewalk but once the spacehad opened up again he neglected to re-establish the gap between them. Ritsudidn’t complain - not until he had a faceful of red hair tickling his nose asShou promptly dropped his head down onto Ritsu’s shoulder with a sigh andleaned heavily against him.

“Suzuki…” he groaned, stumbling alittle as he shoved him off. “What are you doing?”

“I’m bored,” came Shou’s simple answerbut when this was met with Ritsu’s unimpressed expression he then elaboratedwith, “And hungry. I didn’t think you were gonna take so long so I figuredI’d just wait and get a bite to eat when you were done but - oh! Ice cream!Let’s get some ice cream or something!”

Ritsu feigned exasperation and sighed but hecouldn’t fight the smile that had formed across his face again. It was alwayslike this with Shou. Even if he got irritated at him the feeling never lingeredlong. It was as fleeting as the moments that caused it in the first place,there one minute and then gone the next. They were never really worth dwellingon anyway. Mostly.

Besides, Ritsu had to admit that he couldn’tresist the lure of having something cool and sweet right about now, especiallyafter a long day at school. And Shou clearly knew this too if that knowing grinon his face was anything to go by.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, trying not to comeacross as too eager, Ritsu simply offered a hum of agreement and a nod inresponse but Shou could see right through him, a fond utterance of “C'mon,Sweet Tooth,” falling from his lips as he grinned broadly, grabbing him bythe arm and tugging him in the direction of the ice cream parlour. Ritsu didn’treally do much to resist the pull, his own lips twitching upwards into a fullsmile as the rhythm of his footfalls evened out into a steady run alongsideShou’s.

They got a couple of double-scoops, Shou’s achocolate and mint mix showered with sprinkles and Ritsu’s a strawberry andvanilla with a light drizzle of sauce on top.

They sat together on the edge of the sidewalk ona quiet side street, looking up at the puffy blue clouds drifting across thesky. Shou whined at the sight of them, declaring that now he just wanted candyfloss too and Ritsu shook his head and laughed lightly at him.

They were shoulder to shoulder on the curb, kneestouching comfortably and, just like always, Shou was leaning a little intoRitsu’s side, blue eyes peering over at him, watching him carefully as he madehis way through his ice cream at a pace that made him wish he hadn’t scarfedhis own one down so fast.

“Hey,” he said after a while, nudgingRitsu gently. “What are you doing after this?”

Ritsu hummed as he shrugged, swallowing the bitof wafer he’d been eating before replying. “Heading home, probably. I’vegot stuff to do for tomorrow.”

Shou made a small noise of acknowledgement andnodded against Ritsu’s shoulder, watching him dip the remaining bit of waferinto the ice cream to scoop out a chunk. When it was held out towards himinstead of being eaten, Shou simply blinked in momentary confusion.

“You keep looking at my ice cream like ahungry dog so here,” Ritsu explained, holding the bit of wafer outfurther.

There was a beat in which Shou acknowledged theoffer and another in which he considered taking it but as his fingers twitchedto reach out he had a very last-minute change of mind.

Wrapping his aura around the ice cream cone inRitsu’s hands, he plucked it from his grasp with one swift, unexpected pull andtook off, shooting up from the sidewalk in a blur of green and red and burstinginto a sprint, laughing wildly as he ran off with his prize.

Ritsu only took a second or so to process whathad happened but the moment he had he was on his feet and hot on Shou’s heels,chasing him down the street and inwardly cursing himself for being so careless.

“Damn it, Suzuki! If you eat that you’rebuying me another one!”

56. Iyami - Important

It’s a strange feeling watching those who oncestood in your shadow bask in the glow of a limelight that used to centre onyou. Even now Iyami doesn’t really know how exactly he feels on the matter…

There’s bitterness in there, of course, and angerand sadness too but mostly what he has is probably a feeling of longing, ofdesperation to return to days that have long since met their end. He supposesit was inevitable. It happens to all stars eventually but that doesn’t meanhe’s happy about it - especially when those who have ‘replaced’ him are aclumsy lot of boys that never quite finished growing up. It’s disgraceful…

Still, as he sits bathed in the warm glow of apaper lantern, gazing forlornly into the bubbling golden broth before him hecan’t help but feel that at least not all is lost.

He takes a long swig from the glass in his hands,hiccupping into it as he pulls it away from his mouth, and then he sighsdramatically and slumps lower where he’s sat, not even caring when his teethmeet the wood of the counter. “Hey, Chibita…” he says slowly, hiswords a clumsy drunken mess. “Do you ever miss the good old days?”

There’s a snort from the other side of the cart.“Good old days?” the shorter man’s voice echoes incredulously.“What was so good about them? Nothin’ as far as I’m concerned…”

Iyami continues as if he didn’t even hear him,fingers tracing the rim of his empty cup absentmindedly. “I miss the goodold days… I used to be relevant. Popular.” He lowers his hand andclenches it tightly into a fist, face crumpling into something bitter and sad.“Important… I used to be important… Me, Iyami, the star of the show…Now what am I? Just some washed up forgotten loser…”

Silence descends upon the two of them, settlinglike a dark cloud, heavy and thick. Chibita doesn’t really know what to say. Hedoesn’t know if there’s anything he even could say.

Instead, he sighs and takes Iyami’s cup away,rinsing it out and filling it up with water, cool and clear, before hoppingdown off his stood and walking round to join his old friend on the other sideof the cart.

“I know it’s not much of a consolation ornothin’ but… at the very least you’re important to me.” He sets theglass down and places a sympathetic palm on Iyami’s shoulders, pattinggingerly. “Now drink up, idjit. Don’t have me worryin’ about you.”

[riverofmemoriesft]

. Between the Lines . 161

When the clock finally ticked and signaled that it was midnight, Cobra grinned. Lucy ignored the chill that ran down her spine and silently summoned Loke and Capricorn. She'd long since realized she no longer had to physically call for them.

They heard her no matter what.

Her Spirits appeared beside her, Capricorn on her left and Loke on her right. The Lion eyed Cobra, but shrugged and touched Lucy's shoulder. "Princess, make sure you watch yourself while you're out following them, alright? It's dangerous. As much as I dislike Natsu, he does a fairly good job at protecting you."

Lucy beamed. "We'll be fine. Right Capricorn?"

"Of course, Miss Lucy," he said in a deep and amused voice. "Should you feel a strain on your magic, I ask that you send me back and summon Leo to you."

"I like that idea," Loke agreed hastily, making Lucy roll her eyes.

"When you freaks are done, can we go?" Cobra cut in, growling irritably. "They'll be comin' soon. If Blondie wants to follow, you'll need to hide out and soon. I can hear 'em. They're a block away."

"Right!" Lucy patted Loke's shoulder. "Help Cobra." That said, she whirled away and bolted. Capricorn jogged after her, and Cobra squinted at Loke for a few moments.

"What?" Loke demanded.

"...you aren't gonna turn on me, good." He turned back to the entrance of the building across the street. "Thought Blondie had left an idiot who would try to attack me when my back was turned. Your heart says ya won't do it."

"If you wanted to be attacked," Loke muttered. "I would have had her summon Aquarius."

It didn't take long for a mage to flee from Cobra and Loke's brutal attack. And when he did, Lucy and Capricorn followed him out of the city. It took little to no effort for them to find where he'd gone - someone had left a bloody wound that dripped on the ground.

Lucy pressed her lips together unhappily when they peered from a tree that they'd hauled themselves into. The camp that the mages had made was large, with a dozen or so people still there. At the center of it all was a woman with proud eyes and wild black hair. She planted her hands on her hips with a frown when the injured man rushed over and explained what was happening.

"So we have people intervening, do we?" she said darkly, smirking to no one in particular. "I see. And the one we were hoping for showed up? Great. How hard is it going to be to separate them? Did Salamander show up?"

Great. Lucy wanted to scream her frustrations to the sky. She assumed they wanted her keys or magic. When did people not want that?

"No," the man rasped. "A different one. We weren't aware that Cobra of Oracion Seis had joined Fairy Tail...and a man who used the power of the regulus star."

"Leo," she said firmly. "Our informant told us as much."

"What will you have us-"

"I believe it best we leave, Miss Lucy," Capricorn whispered suddenly.

She understood when she followed his gaze and found a set of eyes locked on their hiding place. Her breath heavy as she lowered herself carefully. "Go," she ordered her Spirit in a whisper. He returned to his Realm on her demand though he didn't look too happy about it.

Lucy swung down from the tree and landed quietly in shrubbery. She listened and sighed in relief when no one came to investigate. We'll come and deal with this in the morning, she decided.

She turned to leave - and gave a gasp when a hand slapped over her mouth and dragged her against a muscular chest, trapping her there. Narrowing eyes, she bit down as hard as she could and there was hiss of pain, followed by a hand grabbing her arm before she could escape.

"What the hell, Lucy!" a voice seethed. "Calm down!"

Lucy stilled in surprise, her dark eyes flying wide. "...Sting?"

The blond dragon slayer gave her a dirty look. Shaking his pained and bloody hand he sniffed in a whisper, "I try to help you out and you end up biting the hell out of me. You guys sure know what a word of thanks is."

"Oh, my-" Lucy slapped a hand over her mouth, tasting blood that didn't belong to her. "I'm so sorry!"

He rolled his eyes and pushed her forward. "Come on," he muttered. "Let's get out of here. Rogue's waiting with Lector and Frosch. Looks like we need to have a little chat between guilds."

Lucy furrowed her brow but did as he said.

His foot tapped impatiently and he couldn't stop fiddling with his scarf. Natsu grumbled to himself every few moments, annoying Charle, who was on the seat beside Wendy. Happy was dozing against him. Wendy giggled at the pair.

"Natsu," she managed to get out past her laughter. "Lucy will be okay. Cobra's strong, remember?"

"I remember just fine," he muttered. "Kinana's kicked his ass into shape so she'll be protected, but…" He curled a hand into a fist. "I don't like that I can't be there. It's not fair."

"Life's not fair," Charle retorted.

"Ah, but death is." Jellal's dry comment made Natsu look over at where he was seated to Charle's right. Charle didn't look too pleased about sitting beside him - she detested being near anyone other than Wendy and the other two cats on a normal basis.

Makarov had sent the blue-haired ex-criminal with them due to a suspicion that Natsu would run off. Even though Natsu had insisted that he wasn't going to run off and chase after Lucy, who he knew to be a capable mage now a days, and Cobra.

Lamia Scale had called to say they wouldn't mind; they wanted to see Jellal's magic for themselves.

"I feel like something's wrong," Natsu said after a moment. "I really do. Something's weird about something, even though I don't know what it is."

They gave him a long look. Charle finally sighed and said firmly, "I haven't had any visions that I believe will take place in the next few days. I am sure that you've heard of the vision I had not too long ago. It won't happen today or tomorrow. The scenery was off...it was not Hargeon. Everything will turn out alright, Natsu. Stop being a child."

He blinked and then gave a curt nod. "Right, he muttered, squaring his shoulders proudly. Despite the late train that they'd caught - it had left at a quarter to midnight, which had come and gone - he felt wide awake. Even as the others nodded off, he stayed awake, breathing heavily and trying to keep his roiling emotions under control.

Despite Charle's reassurance, he was in a fit of distress.

Something was wrong.

Something's wrong!

Her eyes were wide as she stared at the incredible world around them.

"I can't believe it," she whispered to no one in particular. "I can't believe it!"

"You said that already," the man on her right said gruffly. She ignored him and stepped closer to the edge of the platform they stood on. The man on her left grabbed for her arm, but caught nothing. He flinched as if the sudden movement hurt him, and then caught her by the cloak thrown around her shoulders.

"Don't get so close to the edge," he warned.

"Right, sorry." She stepped back and her third companion giggled at her. "What's so funny?"

Her eyes glowed beneath the hood of her cloak. "I never thought I'd say smog is beautiful."

"It is kind of smoggy, isn't it?" she sighed. But she didn't seem to be too upset about the matter. Turning to her second companion and friend, she grabbed his arm lightly in her hand and squeezed. "I'm glad we made it, but what do we do next?"

His snorted in amusement. "We need to find-"

"Other than that. We deserve a break, and nothing happens for another month almost," the other woman cut in. Her gaze darted to the scowling man beside her and he muttered something under her breath. "I want to see everything one more time like this. Before it all goes to hell in a hand basket."

"Please?" she pleaded, squeezing his arm.

They all looked to him patiently and finally he sighed, throwing his arms in the air. "Don't let yourself be seen. We're dead if we're found and you know it. If we did the math right, we should be alright for a while, like you said."

"Let's explore but meet back up before the sun comes up," she added suddenly. Their fourth companion voiced his agreement with a grunt and she beamed, leaning into the side of the man beside her as the other two left.

Her voice filled with an agonizing grief as she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," he muttered, burying his face in her hair. "It's not your fault. C'mon, maybe we can pick up some clues on where that bastard is hiding now."

"Maybe," she echoed with a hopeful look in her eyes. She wound her arm through his and together, they disappeared into the shadows, side by side.

Just as they'd always been.

"Did you feel that?"

The deep voice rang out and startled the one beside him awake. Bleary eyes blinked once or twice and then she murmured, "Feel what? What is it you speak of now?"

Dark eyes searched the darkness above them, never tearing away for more than an instant. "Do you not feel it? Something has changed...chaos is coming."

She shuddered at such words and lowered her head to continue her rest, her voice blunt.

"You'd do best to ignore it. There is nothing we can do as we are now."

"Perhaps," he admitted. "I would do what I can and request of that monster to stay away."

"It would do no good. He listens to no one. If he did, we wouldn't be here."

"This will end soon," he soothed, and then proudly curled his chin to his chest, eyes sliding shut. She was right; there wasn't very much they could do at this point in time, but he didn't care. Talons flexed and then gouged into nothingness. A trail of smoke left his nostrils as he contemplated his thoughts in the way he had for so long.

"Be ready. Something is coming," he ordered seriously.

"Don't worry, we know. We can't do anything to stop it at this point, but people are already on the move. I'll make sure they're okay."

"Do not let harm come to Natsu."

"Tch. Your son will be fine. He always is, isn't he?"

The powerful dragon let the images of death and destruction flutter over his mind, a future that had not yet come. Little white cats aren't the only ones who can See. "No. He will never be fine."

"Point taken. You've got one hell of a kid, Igneel. I'll do my best."

"That is all I ask."

[riverofmemoriesft]

. The Game of Life . 5

Full Summary: “You’re new here, so I’ll explain the rules once.  Winners get one lash, losers die.  It’s quite simple. The last one standing gets no lash.  We do one game a day here and you live as long as you can stand it.  If you somehow miraculously try to get away, I kill you.  It’s quite simple really.”

Pairings: Natsu x Lucy, Gajeel x Levy

Warnings: This really isn’t a fic for sensitive readers.  Mentions of suicide, descriptive gore, the likes.  It’s rated M, my friends.

Wendy was inconsolable, but Natsu really couldn't blame her. She kept close to Gajeel, dark eyes haunted and her fingers tangled in his shirt as he worked around her to search the area. Gajeel kept a close eye on her, a silent conversation between the dragon slayers - and that included Sabertooth's, as they'd arrived in the night and early morning - ordering them all to watch her.

When he'd first heard that the body of a blonde woman had been found, Natsu's heart had skipped a beat and he'd nearly imploded in his desperation to make sure that it wasn't her. He had been relieved to discover that he didn't know the young woman with platinum hair and missing eyes. The officials had used the stash of belongings to identify her and contact her parents.

Wendy had been the one to stumble across the body on her way to the guildhall. She'd been skipping streets by passing through alleys and had quite literally tripped over it. According to Charle, Wendy had screamed and screamed, catching the attention of the inhabitants of the nearest buildings, who'd come running to investigate. Someone had thought to contact Fairy Tail as well as the officials, and it was currently Gajeel who was watching over her.

"You're right," Sting muttered as he appeared beside Natsu. He wrinkled his nose. "You can't detect anything. They have no scent." He ran his tongue over his teeth. "Sometimes if you lick the right thing you can catch it that way, but-"

"You did not lick a dead person," Rogue said with a look of disgust as he glared at his partner.

"No, I didn't," Sting huffed, scowling. "I think I know better than to lick the dead. Poor girl." He gave the body bag being pulled past them a sympathetic look. "She didn't deserve that."

"It's brutal," Rogue said quietly in agreement and they all nodded.

Her tongue had been swollen and seared from the brand placed upon it, dried tear tracks and blood caking her face, empty eye sockets telling them where the blood came from. Bloodied lash marks had been cut across her back, bruises at her throat speaking of how she'd died.

"And Lucy and Levy are in this man's grasp?"

"Mhm," Natsu said dully, scowling. He shook his head, running a hand tiredly down his face. Nightmares from the death of a future version of his partner had plagued him. And this time, Lucy hadn't been there to reassure him. It had made him even more aware than he'd been beforehand of the fact that she was gone.

"How long has this been going on?" Sting planted his hands on his hips. "Look. I can't hang around for too long, but I want to help. Lucy's a friend of Yukino's, and I don't want her to suffer any more than she suffered at the hands of Sabertooth's previous guildmaster. And it would hurt her a lot if Lucy was hurt."

"And we're grateful for your help, Sting," Mirajane said gently as she brushed past, heading for Gajeel and Wendy.

"Very grateful," Juvia agreed as she appeared with Gray at her side. Her hand loosely clasped Gray's wrist, but he didn't seem to mind her keeping that close. "Juvia thinks the disappearances started a couple months ago. He waited until he had a certain number of victims before beginning his killing."

"Lamia Scale's member went missing a month or two ago," Gray offered. "The murders started just a week ago with this one. One a day."

"Why are we assuming that Lamia Scale's mage has something to do with this?" Gajeel grunted as he approached, freed of watching Wendy.

"Her possessions were among the others," Gray explained quickly and then turned to Rogue. "Can you find out anything from shadows around the area? Could you find anything odd that we wouldn't have noticed on a regular basis?"

"Perhaps," he said slowly. "I'll look around Magnolia when noon comes. It's when the shadows that don't belong are most noticeable."

"Thanks," he sighed. He glanced at Juvia, who informed them that she'd gone through the canals and had found all of the girls' clothing but had found nothing else. "I think this bastard is in it for the thrill of killing and nothing else," he admitted. "And torturing," he added as an afterthought.

"They haven't been involved with anything suspicious, so the victims are chosen off the street at random," Sting said with a thoughtful expression. His sharp blue eyes darted to Natsu. "He has to have known their living patterns. Does he stalk them before he takes them, maybe?"

"Possible," Natsu said slowly. He thought over it. "We didn't see anything strange before everything picked up, but with what Yukino said about a shadow outside of Lucy's place, it wouldn't surprise me." He tugged the scarf from his mouth. "I took a look again. There was nothin' different."

"We'll look there anyways," Rogue murmured. "If we find anything strange, we will inform you."

"Thanks." Natsu watched as the Twin Dragons of Sabertooth left, heads bent together as they chatted about where to go from this point.

"It's nice of them to help," Juvia said softly, her lips pressed together anxiously. "But Juvia doesn't think they'll find anything that we haven't."

"Neither do I," Gray admitted.

Grunting, Gajeel turned to Juvia and said, "C'mon, water woman. You've been out since early searchin' the canal, and I know ya get tired from drawing yourself together after that big of a spread."

"Okay." Juvia patted Gray's hand with a smile and he gave her a long look that had her promising, "Juvia will be careful. Juvia will have Gajeel to watch out for crazy killers."

"Be careful anyways. With our luck, you'll be snatched out right from under his nose."

When the time came once more to play a game, Lucy wore a grim look. Ivy had kept that scratched word on her arm hidden whenever Simon came down, her eyes determined. She'd made sure to keep it small and on the inside of her upper arm, where it was less likely to be noticed.

The cuffs clicked off as Simon descended. Lucy drifted over to Levy, who took her hand and squeezed. She could feel Levy trembling. It was unlikely they'd get away with both of them not receiving lashes this night, but she would sacrifice her back for Levy.

Levy was strong, but Lucy wasn't sure her small body would hold up against the leather whip she'd been gifted by Loke…

Thinking of her Spirit brought tears to her eyes. Tears that she pushed back. She couldn't show weakness, not in front of this bastard!

Levy moved to stand close to her, brushing against her, and Lucy could see her shiver once more. She was cold, Lucy realized, whether from fear or something else, she wasn't sure. Lucy took a deep breath and then focused as Ivy stood, helping the shaking Maria. Maria was so scared she couldn't seem to gather her legs beneath her. Ayako was silent, staring Simon down when he looked her way from beneath his eyelashes.

Suddenly, he clapped, "I want to play a trivia game and since we're so involved with mages," he paused to look at Ayako, Lucy, and Levy, "We'll use knowledge on magic to see who wins. If that is alright with you lovely ladies, of course."

No one said a word.

He ordered them to line up and then caressed the whip that he pulled from his belt. Lucy didn't think she'd ever be able to use the whip again. "For every one you get wrong, you get lashed...hm, how many questions shall we do...there's five of you now…" He gave them a long look. "Let's go twenty four questions. We'll start with Maria...you're the one who's been here third longest, hm? The first question is this: name the top three guilds in Fiore, starting with third place."

Maria's lips trembled. "Lamia Scale. Second place is Sabertooth. First is Fairy Tail."

Lucy thanked the popularity of the Grand Magic Games.

"Number two. Miss Heartfilia," he said as he turned to her next. "What sort of magic does the guildmasters of those three guilds possess?"

"Makarov Dreyar of Fairy Tail uses giant magic. Ooba Babasaama of Lamia Scale uses spinning magic, and Sting Eucliffe of Sabertooth uses white dragon slayer magic."

"Good," Simon praised. Levy was next, and the solid-script mage, who was an endless source of information, answered correctly. When it got to Ivy, however, Lucy clenched her jaw. "What is the true names of the Twin Dragons of Sabertooth and the Sky Sorceress, Black Steel, and Salamander of Fairy Tail?"

'Salamander' struck a chord in Lucy's heart and she wanted to cry. She missed her ever cheerful companion with all of her heart. She remembered shrugging his overheated self away with annoyance and regretted it, now longing to feel such heat once again. She could name every single one of them. By the look on Ivy's face, she could, too.

"The Twin Dragons are Sting Eucliffe and Rogue Cheney," Ivy said thickly. Lucy wondered why all of the questions seemed to be more focused on the dragon slayers. Did he have something against them? Obsess over them? "Salamander is Natsu Dragneel, the fire dragon slayer. Black Steel Gajeel." Now, she pretended to falter, her eyes widening in false alarm. Simon leaned forward eagerly, as if he didn't recognize that she was faking.

"I don't know," Ivy whispered.

Lucy flinched as she cried out when the whip struck her, leaving a bloodied welt on her belly. She touched the spot with a sob, tears boiling over.

Maria moved to comfort her, but Simon snarled, "Don't move from your spots!"

Maria froze.

"Ayako," he continued, turning to her. She lifted her chin. "What guild specializes in hosting women?"

"Mermaid Heel," she said coldly.

"Correct."

It went on like this for a ridiculous amount of time and when it was over, Lucy wasn't surprised that Levy was the winner. Ivy had purposely lost and her lips trembled as Simon performed the lashings on them. Levy was sent aside, Ayako and Maria taking theirs with muffled sounds.

Lucy gasped. The one mistake she'd made had earned her a lash, but this...he'd clearly not used his full strength. When she received this lash, it was as if he'd used every ounce of strength in his arm and she cried out, legs giving out. She hit the ground on her knees, blood trickling down her spine from where the flesh had been flayed open. Tears finally rolled down her cheeks, her head spinning and hands shaking.

She barely noticed when Ivy was dragged kicking and screaming from the basement. She had accepted her death, but in no way was she going without a fight. Even if one of them got away, it was better than none. If they got away alive, they would know where the victims were kept.

But Lucy had the feeling they wouldn't get lucky.

At least they wouldn't be without a clue, though.

"Lucy?" Levy said a few hours later, when Simon had returned, made sure they were cuffed once more, and returned to the main part of his home. She glanced over, biting her lip when it tugged awkwardly at the lash on her back. She was surprised to find that Levy was heaving for air, her face streaked with tears. Ayako and Maria were asleep, neither daring to not rest before they were forced to continue the next day.

"Levy?" Lucy said softly. "What's wrong?" She wanted to smack herself. As if she didn't know what was wrong!

Levy gave a sob, her body shaking with the force of it. "I want to go home! I want to wake up and go to the guildhall! I want to find Droy and Jet fighting to get my attention, and I want Gajeel there to insult them! I want Lily to keep my lap warm! I want to hear Gray and Natsu fighting, and Erza stopping them, and I want to take jobs to stop bad people and help innocent! I want to hug Master and…Gajeel to..." She choked off, unable to finish, and gave a little wail that was quiet enough that it wouldn't get Simon's attention. "I want to go home, Lucy! I just want to go home."

Lucy swallowed the lump in her throat. "Natsu will be looking for me," she said fiercely. "Just as I'm sure Gajeel's running himself ragged to find you. Nothing escapes a dragon slayer, Levy. Nothing. They will find us."

But even to her, it didn't sound convincing.