#hey lads support the grind !!

[just-an-emily-existing]

As Lady reached Russia, she transform into a completely new steam engine, one native to Russia and unfurled her colors against the white snow, her steam billowing like a welcoming plume. She had finally made her way to a new railway, one bustling with diesels. Before she could change herself to a diesel, one spotted her. “Hey! Who are you? Are you the new steamie boss ordered?” (Of course they said this on Russian) Lady was caught off guard but quickly adjusted. "Hello, everyone! I’m Grendaline. I’ve heard so much about this railway. I can’t wait to work with you all!"

The diesel's looked her up and down, for they had little interest in steam. Daniel, or Diesel 10 as his friends and controller called him, the strongest engine of them all, was known for his booming presence and a scowl that seemed permanently etched on his face. He was regarded as the uncrowned king of the yard, feared and respected by all.

"Grendaline the Steam Engine, huh? What an ugly name and an even uglier face." Diesel 10 snorted rudely, his steel wheels grinding against the track as he advanced. "You won’t last a day out here. We have jobs to do, and I don’t need a tin kettle like you slowing me down."

Determined not to let Diesel 10’s harshness dampen her spirits, Lady smiled warmly. "Well, I think we can make a great team! Just imagine how much more we could achieve together." Diesel 10's eyes twinkled with a mix of skepticism and intrigue. Yet, he simply replied, "We’ll see about that."

Later that day, the foreman called out for the engine crew. “We’ve got an important cargo run to make, and Diesel 10 is going to need help with a few heavy loads. Grendaline, you’ll accompany him.” The whir of engines reverberated around the yard, creating an air of tension. Lady gulped but steeled herself. “I’m ready!

As the job began, Diesel 10 showed no signs of being anything but abrasive. They moved from one loading dock to another, and he constantly barked orders at Lady. “Keep up! You’re slower than a snowdome!" he grumbled as they approached a heavily-loaded freight car. Under Diesel 10's tough exterior, Lady sensed an underlying vulnerability. He accepted the weight of the world on his shoulders, the expectations of being the strongest engine, but the burden was heavy.

Soon, the task turned tough. As they navigated a steep incline, Diesel 10’s engine began to sputter. He struggled against the weight, his metal frame straining under pressure. Lady saw his distress, and in that moment, the gears of determination turned in her mind. "Keep pushing! We’re not done yet!�� she urged, her voice sturdy with encouragement. "We can do this together!" At first, Diesel 10 hesitated, pride battling with fatigue. But desperation took hold. With a grunt, he pushed with all his diesel engine could take. With one powerful pull from both engines, they managed to haul the freight car up the slope.

When they reached the top, Diesel 10 slid to a stop, panting heavily. He had always prided himself on his strength, but Lady’s support had changed the game. In that moment of teamwork, a flicker of respect shone in Diesel 10's eyes. "Not bad for a little steam engine," he admitted, a hint of grudging admiration creeping into his tone. Lady laughed softly. "There’s more to engines than just strength. It’s how we work together that counts."

From that day forward, the dynamic shifted. Diesel 10 grudgingly accepted Lady’s insights and perspectives, and she unearthed layers of his personality buried beneath the rough exterior. They began to share stories during their breaks him, fierce tales of diesel dominance and her, completely made up stories, she couldn’t ever let him know what she truly was.

The other engines observed the unlikely friendship, wondering how a peppy steam engine softened the rigid demeanor of Diesel 10. Years passed, and as winter melted into spring, Lady and Diesel 10 became the heart of the railway. Together, they worked on hauling heavier loads, Diesel 10 teaching Lady how to back talk the other engines, and Lady teaching him how to know when to back down. Eventually, their relationship blossomed into a wonderful romance, a bond formed between the two engines.

The other diesels, once skeptical, now looked to Lady for sage advice and Diesel 10 for encouragement when scales tipped toward duress, a testament to how far they had come from mistrust to friendship and love.

As the two engines sat side by side one evening, basking in the glow of a setting sun, Diesel 10 turned to Lady, his demeanor softer than ever. “You know, you’re not so bad after all. Steam might have its place alongside us diesels.” Lady’s whistle blew joyfully in response. “And who knows, maybe one day, the world will see the beauty in both diesel and steam?” At long last, Lady had finally found her place in the railway and in Diesel 10's heart.

But Gazelle, still simmering with jealousy over Lady's newfound freedom, followed her to Russia. Posing as a diplomat of sorts, she approached Diesel 10 in his dreams as an actual gazelle with whispered seduction, weaving tales of betrayal and lies. “You are not meant to befriend a being who has hidden her true nature from you,” she hissed, her voice charming yet dark. “She will take everything from you, Daniel. She’s a fallen angel who has lied to you.”

Confusion twisted Diesel 10's heart. He had tried his best to ignore these apparitions but time after time, he grew more wary and curious of his lover's true nature. He confronted Lady with fire in his eyes, demanding the truth. “Is it true?” he thundered. “Are you really an angel? What are you!?” Lady's heart raced as she sensed the storm brewing within him. She had kept her true form locked away in secrecy, afraid of how it would change their bond, and now the weight of it felt unbearable.

“Daniel, I—” she stammered, desperately searching for the right words. But the moment was lost in a maelstrom of miscommunication, and in Diesel's mind, she was an embodiment of betrayal.

Fueled by anger, Diesel 10 lunged forward, attempting to obliterate the connection they shared and her body. But Lady, her essence awakened in fury, spun with a grace that made her feel like she had doubled in size. In a flash of golden glitter and determination, she defended herself, striking fiercely at the heart of Diesel 10. The impact sent ripples through the air, and he fell back as if the very weight of his betrayal had anchored him to the ground, wounded.

Lady, shaken but resolute, fled once again. The icy winds of Russia howled around her as she barreled toward Muffle Mountain, each rev of her wheels beat in her scarred heart. When she finally returned to the familiar valley of Muffle Mountain, she felt a wave of relief wash over her rods. Finally she was home, tired and beaten, but home at long last. As she finally reached the entrance, she saw Burnett, crying to himself but was quickly shaken out of his episode when he heard the chugging and grunts of an engine.

He whipped around to find Lady, his long lost friend, turning into her human self and crawled to him. He rushed over to her as she explained everything and how D10 and Gazelle were not to be trusted. There was no other explanation, her sister had to be behind D10's realisation that she wasn’t all she seemed.

But Lady's power was draining, her skin began to grow pale, her eyes dulled and her body grew weak. She crawled to the tracks beside them as she turned back into her engine self. She soon lost her face and only had a golden smokebox instead. Burnett was horrified and tried to put coal into her firebox but to no avail. He then vowed to bring her back, no matter what.

Lady on the other hand, had fallen into a deep coma, being surrounded by winters trees and snow as far as the eye could see. Lady soon realised she was in a dream and did her best to escape. In this slumber, her coma was woven with the memories of her time in Russia and England, and the bond she had created with her friends, human and engine. In her heart, a flicker of hope remained; maybe one day, despite all odds and misunderstandings, their paths would cross once more and she could escape.

[arrow-guy]

The Lighthouse (10/??)

Summary: The town is sleepy, the people are nice enough, but life gets turned upside-down when the God of Thunder literally falls out of the sky.

A/N: It feels to good to finally be back to this story. It’s been too long. that being said, here we are with chapter 10! Serious discussions and movement in the story lie ahead, so buckle up, lads. Hope you enjoy!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: ThorxReader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Harsh language

part 9

“I agree with (Y/N),” Thor says.

Loki scowls. “Of course you’d agree with her. You’re in love with her.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” I protest. “There’s been no talk of the ‘L’ word thus far in our relationship, don’t go putting words in his mouth!”

Thor glances up at me briefly but quickly focuses on his brother again. “I agree with her because she’s right. We stand a better chance of defeating him if we have support from the Avengers.”

“Thank you!” I cry. “At least someone in your family can see some kind of sense.”

“And you think it’s him?!” Loki hisses.

“I’m more inclined to think it’s him than you.” He scowls and I shake my head. “I mean, seriously. You, Thor, and I are no match for an intergalactic warlord!”

“She’s right, Loki,” Thor says. “You know this.”

“Fine,” Loki snaps. “Have it your way. Drag every single one of your little friends into this. Earth is doomed, regardless.”

“You don’t know that,” I say.

“I know what Thanos is capable of,” Loki says, his tone low and filled with dread. “I’ve been bent to his will and the instrument through which he exacted his first attack on your planet.”

"I'm not saying that working with the Avengers secures us the win. It just means that we'd have a fighting chance." Loki keeps his face carefully blank and I squint at him. “Unless you think that won’t be enough.”

“I know it won’t be enough,” he grinds out. “And I know this because there are three Infinity Stones on this planet, and Thanos won’t stop until he has all three of them.”

“Three?” Thor’s brow furrows. “I am only aware of two.”

“That’s because the last time you were on Earth there were only two.” He holds out his hand and a glowing blue cube materializes in his palm. “I possess the third.”

“And you couldn’t say something earlier?!” I hiss. “You’ve been talking us in circles when you had the answer up your sleeve the entire time.”

“You should’ve told us, brother,” Thor growls. “This isn’t the time for keeping secrets.”

“How am I to know?” Loki demands. “Your human has so much magic hidden inside of them, how can I assume that she has only the best intentions in mind?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.

“Don’t you?” Loki hisses. “You speak of performing spells that someone like you should have absolutely no access to as if you’re simply going for a stroll.”

“Wh-”

“Do you realize how much power is necessary to track something across the galaxy?” His eyes narrow and I try to shrink away from him. “There is something old and powerful within you that you’ve been tapping into. I’m surprised even Thor hasn’t noticed yet.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” I glance between Loki and Thor, confused. "Thor?"

Thor shakes his head. "True, she's powerful, but I don't know what you're talking about, brother."

Loki scowls. “Of course you don’t. I don’t know why I even bother asking.”

“If you know so much, why don’t you fix everything then, huh?” I demand. “Because all you’ve been this morning is contrary and argumentative.”

“Clearly I’m not capable of solving this problem on my own, or even with my brother added to the equation.”

“Then what’s your grand plan?”

“Your power, in your untrained state, is volatile. But,” he says. “I could teach you.”

“You mean use me and my magic as you see fit,” I correct.

“No, I simply mean that I could better help you to hone your skills than Heimdall can from where he is,” Loki explains. “I am more than talented enough to bring out your full potential.”

“That doesn’t sound much better than what I just said you’d do.” I scowl. “Besides, we wouldn’t have to worry about taking down a galactic super tyrant as a band of three if we just call the fucking Avengers.”

“Oh please, you’ll need to know either way.”

“Maybe. But I’m sure as hell not learning from you, and I’m definitely not having this argument.”

I push myself up from the kitchen table and hurry up the stairs to shut myself in my office. I sit down in my chair, sigh, and put my head down on my desk.

“Childish,” I mumble.

A quiet thump against the door draws my attention away from wallowing in self pity. When the sound doesn’t come again, I get up to investigate.

Upon opening the door, I find Charles sitting outside, patiently waiting for me to let him in. I gesture for him to come inside and he meows before trotting through the door. He hops up onto my chair and then my desk, where he curls up on his blanket under the desk lamp. Only when he’s settled am I reminded that I hid in my office to distract myself with work.

I open my laptop and check my email.

Someone knocks softly and cracks open the door.

“I’m working,” I say.

“It’s been hours, (Y/N).” I glance up and Thor slips into the room. “I brought you something to eat.”

“Oh.” He holds out a plate with a sandwich and carrot sticks on it and I take it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Thor scoops up Charles from the desk and takes a seat on the couch. I pick up a carrot and roll it between my thumb and index finger before taking a bite.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” I say. ”I was out of line, storming off like that. I should’ve stuck around.”

“Maybe, but there are times when Loki ignores the comfort of others in favor of pushing on with his own plans. But being the loudest person in the room doesn’t make him right.”

I nod. “I just don’t want to set things back because of a stupid argument. There are more important things to deal with right now than my anxiety over learning to control my magic.”

“I’d say you’ve got a fine grasp on your magic, for now. We wouldn’t be anywhere near where we are, had you not worked so diligently with Heimdall to find Loki.”

“Recklessly, is more like it,” Heimdall says. “Though I cannot argue with his logic. You’ve made incredible progress in your skill in the time that I’ve been teaching you.”

“But should I take Loki up on his offer?” I ask, my voice small. “I saw what happened when he restored your memories. I’m not sure my body could handle that.”

“I’m sure it would be different, were he to teach you and not forcibly put the knowledge into your mind, but…” Thor shakes his head. “That’s not a choice that I can make for you.”

“I know.” I pick at the sandwich. “I still think we should contact your team. Even if Loki’s right, and they aren’t enough, they’re bound to know more people that can help.”

“Then we’ll call them.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“What about Loki?”

“Loki doesn’t know everything, and I am well aware that I’ll never be able to convince him otherwise. But we don’t need to halt our progress simply because he disagrees with your plan.”

“Thing is, it’d be really nice if it weren’t just my plan.”

“It’s not. I have your back on this.”

I nod. “How do we contact them, though? It’s not like I can just google their phone number.”

“There’s no need.”

“Huh?”

“I memorized Stark’s number years ago.”

“You… memorized Tony Stark’s personal phone number?”

“I did. With the way he flits from one thing to another, he is not an easy man to keep track of. Most of the team either memorized his number or stuck to him like glue.”

I laugh. “I see.”

He smiles. “You should eat. We’ll call after.”

With my meal finished, Thor and I situate ourselves on the floor in the middle of my office. Charles climbs all over our laps and I have to push his face away from my phone several times.

“You’re sure this is the right number?”

“I’m certain.”

“Okay.” I dial the number, put the phone on speaker, and hold it away from me. “What if he doesn’t answer?”

“He will, (Y/N). It’s not as if it’s easy to find this number.”

“Okay.” I bite my thumb, unsure of what to do with myself. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Explain the situation. We know Thanos is close and that Banner is Earth-side." He tries to reassure me with a smile. "You can do this. I promise."

The phone suddenly stops ringing and my eyes snap to Thors. He nods once and I focus in on the phone.

“How did you get this number.” It’s not a question.

“Tony Stark, right?” I ask.

“If you know enough to ask, then you know you’ve got the right number. Now, how’d you find it?”

“Thor gave it to me.”

“Bullshit.”

“Considering he’s sitting directly across from me right now, I’m gonna say it’s really not.”

"Still don't believe you."

"Well, I could always hand the phone off…" I catch Thor shaking his head. "I'm getting a firm no from the big guy, so I'm gonna say he wants me to do most of the talking."

"Convenient."

“Yeah, extremely. Listen, you can hang up on me, but at least hear me out. I wouldn’t even think about calling you or anyone on your team if it weren’t a life or death situation.”

He sighs. “Fine. If I don’t like what I hear, I’m hanging up.”

“I can’t promise you’ll like it.”

“Just talk.”

I take a deep breath and start talking.

“A few months ago, Thor crash landed in the forest just outside of town. No memory of what happened to get him there or anything like that. I helped him find Loki, who restored his memory, we found out that Asgard was destroyed and then the ship they were on was attacked by a galactic tyrant named Thanos, who’s on his way to Earth as we speak.” I pause a moment to take a breath. “But you knew that last bit already.”

“How would you know?”

“Because Dr. Banner’s back on Earth.”

“... Yes he is. Crashed into some wizard's place on Bleeker Street.”

I frown and glance up at Thor. “Wizard?”

Thor leans forward. “Stark, you said a wizard on Bleeker Street?”

“That you, Hammer Time?‘

“Yes, it’s me. You said a wizard on Bleeker Street. Do you mean Doctor Strange?”

“Have you two met?”

“Yes, actually. Last time I was in New York.”

“Really wish you’d given us a call, pal.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time, but right now we have bigger things to worry about.”

“Right, another alien invasion. What do they want this time?”

“The infinity stones,” Thor answers. “I’ve no clue how many he’s managed to gather as of now, but there are three on Earth as we speak.”

“Three?”

“One is with Strange, one with Vision, and the third is here, with Loki.”

“Thanos is coming here because we’ve got half of what he needs,” I interject. “If we can figure out a way to protect the stones here or use them against him, we’ll be better off in the long run.”

“And where do you play into this?” Stark asks.

“I just want to help. I can’t fight, but I can use magic. I’ll do whatever I can do make sure we win.”

“You really dig deep into that ‘we’ thing. We haven’t even met yet.”

“I trust her,” Thor says. “She’s powerful, and more than that, she’s reliable.”

“And what about Loki?”

“He’ll see reason, in the end.” Thor nods resolutely. “I’ll see to it that he does.”

“Good. I’ll fill the team in and send a Quin out to pick you three up. Be ready to leave early tomorrow.” He pauses. “Where exactly are you?”

“You’re the one with the fancy computers,” I say. “I’m sure you’re more than capable of tracing the call.”

Stark laughs. “You’re right. I started looking before I even picked up.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“What’s your name, mystery girl?”

“(Y/N).”

“Alright, (Y/N). I look forward to meeting you.”

“You too.”

The line goes dead and I drop the phone to the carpet before scrubbing my hands over my face.

“That went much better than I expected it would,” Thor admits.

“I never wanna do that ever again.” I laugh a little hysterically. “I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest.”

“I promise, he’s a kind man. He is, however…”

“A little paranoid?” Thor nods. “I can’t say I blame him.”

“Are you sure that you want to go with us?”

“Of course. I can’t let you guys cowboy around on your own, especially knowing your team’s past with Loki.”

“I only worry that you may not be safe.”

“I know, but I’ll be able to protect myself, to some extent, and I’m going to work on my magic so that I’ll be stronger before we have to fight. But, until then,” I push myself to my feet. “I need to apologize to your brother.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I figure I should be in good standing with someone before I ask them to teach me something.”

“You’re going to accept his offer?”

“I am. I have conditions, but we don’t have the luxury to wait for Heimdall now.” I cast my eyes upwards. “Absolutely no offense to you, we’re just pressed for time.”

“None taken. (Y/N). As it stands, I’m afraid we’ve most likely exhausted our resources.”

“Duly noted.” I reach out to Thor and he takes my hand. “Things’ll be fine. I promise.”

“I know.” He kisses my knuckles. “But that doesn’t mean that I fully trust Loki.”

“Don’t have to trust him to benefit from his knowledge.”

At that, Thor laughs. "I suppose you're right."

"Would you think of dinner ideas while I talk to him?”

Thor nods and gently pushes me towards the door before getting to his feet. Charles follows us out into the hall and takes off down the stairs. Thor finds Daisy when we reach the ground floor and takes her outside to play. I find Loki in the living room, reading a book on the couch. Charles has situated himself in the recliner across the room and is glaring at Loki, tail swishing.

“You should make an effort to tame your beasts,” Loki says, calmly turning the page in his book.

“Oh really, you’re worried about a little house cat?”

“He doesn’t like me.”

“I don’t like you much, either, so I can’t really blame him.”

He closes the book and sets it to the side. “What is it that you want?”

“I want to apologize for the way I acted earlier.”

“Why?”

“Because I was harsh and abrupt, and I figure it’s better to apologize before I ask you to teach me than after.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“The Avengers are sending a jet to pick us up tomorrow. All of us need to be ready for what’s coming, and Heimdall won’t be able to make it before Thanos does.”

He grins and leans forward on his knees, clearly enjoying this. “So what you’re saying is… you need my help.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

He sighs and leans against the back of the couch, examining his nails. “It’s alright to admit you were wrong, you know.”

“I literally just did. I’m saying that I need your help to fully understand my magic.”

“Now,” he rises to his feet and quickly approaches me. “Was that so hard?”

I roll my eyes and walk off to the back door. “You’re ridiculous.”

Alright, so we’re headed directly towards a confrontation with Thanos. More than a little stressful to think about, if I’m being honest. Learning from Loki won’t be any treat either, I’m sure.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! How do you feel about Loki’s place with the reader and Thor? What do you think will happen next? Be sure to like, reblog, comment, and/or shoot me an ask and tell me all about it!

if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!

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[laurenkmyers]

callum highway week: day 4 “you’re not jealous, are you?” wrestlemania ao3

The reception is well under way by the time Callum is whisked up to the bar by some of the army lads, chanting ‘shots shots shots’ as they drag his already tipsy ass with them. He���s handed a shot of tequila, some salt, and a lime quicker than he can blink away the blurriness, and before he knows it he’s tipping his head back and necking the thing, feels it burn its way down his throat and shoves the lime straight in between his teeth to cover the taste and the wince on his face.

Never really was one for shots, he grimaces, but his lads had come through for him tonight, showing up and giving him their full support. Stuart had somehow managed to get in touch with his old crew a few weeks back and invited them to the reception. They’d all been weirdly delighted by the news and happily accepted. Not one of them blinked when Stuart told them it was a man on the other end of Callum’s aisle, he smiles fondly at the memory.

Something Callum had always been terrified of back then, one of them finding out. And yet it was all for nought. Really, he should have known they’d react the way they did, never should have doubted them. They all saw how he and Chris were. They all knew. It shouldn’t have come as this much of a surprise…and yet it had at the time. But he’s just so grateful for them, for their continued friendship, even after they lost Chris they all stayed in touch. It was nice.

They each take another shot to commemorate their fallen friend, as they always do when they meet up all together like this, ‘to Chris’, they cheer. It makes Callum suddenly solemn as he realises he hasn’t seen his husband- he really likes the way that sounds- in about an hour, so he bids farewell to the lads and heads off to find Ben.

He finds him sitting in the corner of the room, grumbling over something, Callum can tell, because he’s necking his whiskey like someone might come and lace it with poison if he doesn’t drink it all immediately. But he definitely perks up a bit the minute he sees Callum making his way over.

“Hey husband.” Callum croons as he leans in for a whiskey-laced peck, plonking himself onto the chair besides Ben.

Ben hums darkly, eyeing Callum hotly the moment he’s within distance, “Say that again.”

But before Callum can actually say the word for a second time Ben is pulling him back in for more, apparently not content with a simple peck, or the patience to wait for his answer. Callum goes willingly, whispering ‘husband’ into Ben’s mouth, who groans around the word. He feels the shiver trickle down Ben’s body the more the repeats it, and stores that little nugget of knowledge to the back of his mind to bring back later, once they’re alone, with the locked door of a very comfortable hotel suite between them and the outside world.

Ben’s eager tongue traces his bottom lip, begging for entrance, which Callum gladly grants. The kiss soon takes a turn, from polite to indecent in less than a second, it feels feverish and hot, so much more than the small peck Callum initially swooped in for.

Ben takes his fill, biting at his bottom lip. He’s making the most unbelievable sounds as his hand’s eventually wander over Callum’s body and grab him by the lapels of his suit jacket. Ben moves swiftly, Callum barely has time to realise his plan until he has all of his 5ft 9 husband making himself at home astride his lap, straddling his thighs and grinding down obscenely.

They continue the grinding, unperturbed by their audience singing terribly on the dance floor. But when a very specific part of that audience- the army boys- start wolf whistling at them from across the room, it halts Ben in place, making him tense up. It’s enough to apparently piss Ben off because he pulls away muttering unintelligent words under his breath and refuses to look at Callum after that.

Callum in turn, twists his head towards the lads and flips them off quickly with a wide smile on his face, and the whistles die down. He turns back to his once again grumbly husband.

“What’s gotten into you?” Callum asks after a time.

“Nothing.” Ben huffs.

“You had a face like a smacked arse when I walked over here, muttering to yourself and necking that whiskey like it was going disappear. You’ve got the same face now. What’s up?”

Ben sighs and his face twists into a weird expression, almost like he’s afraid to admit what the actual problem is. But he eventually finds the words, blurting, “Do your army pals have to be so…free with their affections?” He finishes lamely, slumping further away from Callum. But he seems to decide quickly enough that he’s apparently not done grumbling as he fumbles through his next sentence, “They’re always touching ya, hands on your thigh, your lower back, pulling you in for a hug one minute, kissing your head the next. It’s all a bit much, innit?”

Callum chuckles sweetly, “It don’t mean anything. We just spent a lot of time together is all. We were a close unit.”

“I bet you were. Real fuckin’ close.”

The pettiness in Ben’s tone makes him stop, as the implications of his words settle into the tension.

“Hang on, wait a minute.” Callum reels back, “you’re not jealous, are you?”

Ben scoffs in his face, but the slight tinge of pink high on his cheeks reveals the truth and it hits Callum all at once. “You are. You’re jealous!” He chuckles to himself at the absurdity of it all.

“Don’t laugh at me, Cal.” Ben snaps back a little harshly, but immediately softens when he sees the taken aback look on Callum’s face. He takes a deep breath in to steel himself. “Just don’t like seeing hot blokes I don’t know touching you like that, especially on our wedding day.”

Callum sobers at that, can hear the reluctant honesty in the confession. He pulls Ben further into his lap and grabs his face gently with both hands, “I married you, Ben. Took your last name to prove to the word just how yours I am. In every sense of the word I belong to you, Ben Mitchell. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Ben mumbles under his breath a word that sounds suspiciously like ‘mine’ and then hauls him into another kiss, softer this time, soft enough that the quiet ‘sorry’ flutters from one heart to another.

“Do they all have to be so fit, though?” Ben chuckles childishly, pulling back and gesturing wildly with his hands. “Once upon a time, the thought of you surrounded by six hot, muscle bulging men would have turned me on, but now? Fuck. Now I just want to ravage you right here, mark you up, and make sure they know you’re mine.”

Callum smiles shyly, pupils blowing dark as he imagines the scenario. He shakes himself out of the thought and connects their fingers. The clink of their wedding bands as they rub against each other makes them both pause. Callum holds their joined palms a little higher in the air, drawing Ben’s attention to it and their matching rings.

“I think this might give them a clue as to who I belong to.”

Ben smirks and steals another kiss before leaning forward with a devilish expression on his face.

“I think…” Ben whispers hotly into Callum’s ear, “you should properly introduce me as your husband, and then, once the formalities are out of the way, you follow me into that back room…” He nudges his head towards the door on the right, “and let me have my wicked way with you. And if I happen to leave a very dark, very visible mark on your neck as we’re getting all hot and heavy in our wedding suits, then so be it.”

Callum’s cock twitches in anticipation, his mouth drying up quicker than the Sahara desert. He coughs to cover up a moan.

“Yep...yeah…I’m good with that.” Callum stutters out.

“Right, come on then. Introduce me to wrestlemania over there.” Ben smirks, tapping Callum on the cheek lightly before sliding out of his lap, one final grind before he does- a stark reminder of how hard they both already are- and Callum realises all too abruptly just how impossible getting through the next few minutes is going to be. He makes a quick, last minute decision, stumbles forward, drags Ben into the back room and slams the door behind them.

“Want you to mark me before you meet them.” He says with a deep mumble, astonished by his own self-confidence.

He knows he made the right decision when Ben’s face turns from shocked to downright delighted.

“I fuckin’ love you.” Ben growls before bounding forward and getting to work without hesitation.

Oh yeah, right decision, mhmm, Callum thinks incoherently, impulsively tilting his head and sinking further into the door, groaning as Ben’s lips seal themselves over his rapid pulse.

Definitely the right decision.

[itsdingdong]

Define Us - pjm

Pairing: Park Jimin x reader

Genre: smut, angst, roommate au, slice of life, some fluff

Warnings: explicit language, smut

Word count:3792

18+

Synopsis: The day you enroll the university Jungkook is there to help you. When you have difficulties with the place you move in, Jungkook asks if you’d like to be his and his friend, Jimin’s roommate. The tension between you two is undeniable but you’re not certain of your feelings. How will things turn out with Jimin after a night out?

⌜Hope you’ll enjoy…💜⌟

You’ve met Jungkook on the day you enrolled to the university. He was in charge of helping the newcomers. There was a document missing and he was signed to help you. It was the last day of the enrollments and the guy that was supposed to be renting you the house you were going to move in turned out a fraud. That was the reason you got there the last minute. You found a place but it was too expensive and located way too far away from the school.

Having to spend the half of the day running here and there for signatures, you’ve become familiar with one another. After the term began, he would always call you over during breaks and you’d join him and his friends. You were so grateful that your breaks coincided with the only person you knew there.

Eventually you two ended up becoming good friends. One day, he was appalled to see your puffy red eyes as he was leaving the school. You ended up explaining him that you were having problems with your place. Right away he told you that him and his roommate were looking for a roommate and asked you if you’d like to move in with them. You didn’t take the offer right away since it’d be relatively odd to stay in a boys, let alone a person you’ve never met in person’s house but you finally gave in and decided to give it a shot.

 The highly anticipated weekend was finally here after an exhausting week. You going from place to place for job interviews to be able to pay the rent for Jungkook’s place which you now shared with his other friend Jimin.

With Jimin things were different. You were here now for almost 2 months and you got along very well. There was a chemistry. You couldn’t quite tell if it was a romantic or more of a sexual one, either way whenever he was around, your body somehow reacted to him.

It wasn’t obvious whether if he liked you or just wanted to fuck your brains out. On the other hand the attraction you felt towards him was something tad different than just lust. You wouldn’t hate going into bed with him but it was really likely for you to feel hurt afterwards to act as if nothing had happened. You guess you actually really did like him.

 It has been two weeks since you started looking up for a job and you finally landed in one. Part-time but enough to pay for your part of the rent. You were in front of the condo waiting for boys to let you in.  “What’s the password?” You could feel Jungkook smiling now through entry phone.

 “Let me in.”

 “Oh wrong address.”

 “I’ll be going then.” You pretend to leave and he chuckled and granted the entrance. You slowly made your way up.

“Come on in.”

You open the door and let yourself in.

 “Boys?”

 Jungkook and Jimin were both sat on the couch looking intently at the phone in Jungkook hands.

“You received a dick pick? Congrats!” You cooed at Jungkook as you closed the door behind you.

“You’d like that. Wouldn’t you?” Commented Jimin as he smirked at you. You smiled and shook your head disapprovingly as you start untying your shoes. “Fuck off.”

Jimin chuckled and motioned you hello with his free hand while Jungkook was still scrolling through something. “Hey.” You mouthed back. You went to your room to drop off your stuff and went back to the living room just before they stood up.

“Hey boys. How has your day been?”

 “Not bad really. How about yourself?” Jungkook spoke as poured himself some water from the counter.

 “Tiring but now I have a job!” You said shrugging.

 “Oh congratulations!”

 “Thank you. Thank you.”

 You did a little dance and took a bow.

 “How about we go out to celebrate? And this way you won’t be able to have an excuse.” You asked and looked at him expectantly. Jungkook stopped and thought quickly before nodding.

 “Why not? You coming too Jimin.” He nudged him.

 “Can’t let two ladies go out by themselves.” Jimin joked and came to you put his elbow on your shoulder and leaned on you. This made your heart skip a beat but you remained cool.

“Pfft. True.” Scoffed Jungkook. “Let me see if the boys will tag along.” And he left the room leaving you and Jimin alone. He moved away from you without breaking the eye contact. “Let’s have some fun tonight.”

 It took you approximately an hour to leave. Despite the common belief, boys took longer to get ready, defying the odds. Boys were going to meet you at the club.

As you were headed there you caught his eyes on you multiple times. The night was going to be interesting. Maybe tonight was going to be the one to define you. What you were to one another.

The boys were already here, encircling a table in the back of the club. Typical night out for them, or just whenever they were together it was all laughter and jokes, pretty much enjoying themselves no matter what. Jimin offered his arm to support you in your heels as you got to where the guys were.

“Finally! I was going to call the cops.”

“I swear this isn’t on me this time.” You put your hands up laughing.

“Well you look great love.” Hoseok complimented.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him humbly.

“The night has only begun, keep the flirting for later on.” Spoke Jin out of nowhere, making everything go absolutely awkward.

Jimin shifted uncomfortably next to you. “I’ll get the drinks. Jungkook, soju yeah?” Jungkook was in the middle of a saying something before briefly nodding at Jimin he went back to talking to Taehyung. “I’ll have a-” Your sentence was cut right in the middle because he already was headed to the bar. “Cheongju?” You stare after him slightly stupefied.

You stood there waiting for him to comeback as the guys were long gone into a conversation about God knew what. You felt like you’ve done something like you were responsible for his odd behavior but the thing was that there was nothing to be acting the way he did. A sigh escaped your lips catching Namjoon’s attention.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing. Just a little tired.”

“Oh come on the night haven’t even started yet.” He was right you’ve been here for only 15 minutes and here you were being a Debbie Downer for no reason. “Yeah, you’re right.” You smiled at him, trying to lighten up your mood. A moment later Jimin joined you with two beers and a Cheongju in his hands. Handed Jungkook his beer and you, your drink. “Thanks.” He looked away as he took a sip from his beer. This was starting to get on your nerves. Why was he acting like this? What was the point?

After two drinks you were starting to feel them oozing into your mind and weakening your mind and body. Your limit was 3, beyond that was blackout. It had the effect of a 3 on you. This drink was already strong as it was but since your stupid ass decided it was okay to do shots when they weren’t even half way empty, you were somewhere in between drunk and tipsy at this point.

The rhythm was bringing your hidden careless self out. Along with the drink as well. As you were dancing it felt like nothing mattered. You felt sexy. Shortly after showing off some of your dance moves you stole off of some stuff you’ve watched online, you were pulled in for a dance off with Hoseok. You were going from competing to dancing together and so on. Mixture of cheers and laughter erupted between you as you enjoyed each other’s company.

Your mind wandered off to Jimin for a second. Wondered what he was up to during all the dancing. You knew he wasn’t particularly a dancer unless he was truly drunk. You tried to find him in the club as the lights danced on the zombie like bodies that were dancing off tempo to the beat.

At first your eyes missed him but the second time you saw him the picture finally sank in. There was a girl. Dancing on him. Literally she was on him grinding and was holding onto him as if her dear life was depended on this. This girl was all over him. She attempted to kiss him but he didn’t let her. That very moment his eyes met yours.

This wasn’t right. Your chest filled up with pain. What was this? Jealousy? You diverted your gaze and attempted to focus on the sweaty bodies away from where he was stood. “At least someone is enjoying themselves.” Stated Jungkook coming up to you with a bottle of soju in his hand, pointing at Jimin. “Are you enjoying yourself?” You asked attempting to shrug off the stabbing pain in your chest. “Yeah. You?”

“Well, I will.” You smirk as a not so smart but good enough for an intoxicated state of mind kind of an idea came to your mind. You let your body loosen up and leave yourself into the hands of the music. Your hips started to sway to the beat, earning a cheer from Jungkook before him going back to where the other lads were. Your hands go up and down on your torso as you give a quick suggestive glance at Jimin. He wasn’t looking. You ignored and continued the process. Just before you were about to hit the ground you felt someone’s hand on your arm.

“Mind if I join you?” Asked a stranger. His breath smelled of gin and cigarettes. He wasn’t going to remember tonight. Heck like you were. “Please.” You turned your back to him and kept swaying your ass. The dress slightly going up with every courageous move you make. You did make a daring fashion choice but the person you made it for was too busy with someone else.

As you kept dancing, more like grinding at this point the stranger started to get rougher with you. At first you let it be but slowly it was becoming aggravating. You were trying to get away from his arms without making it look like it but he pulled you even tighter and you felt a bulge poking your back, you truly hated everything. Hated yourself. Hated Jimin for making you doing stupid things like this. You hated Jimin because he drove you crazy and he chose that slut. You attempted to escape his grip one more time. This time you were being obvious. You didn’t want him or his stupid dick. You just wanted to leave.

“We’re not done yet sweetheart. Where do you think you’re going?” He leaned for a kiss but you pushed his face away. “Let the girl go.” Jimin’s hand was on the guys shoulder in a threatening manner. The guy let go of you and raised his hands in surrender. Jimin’s physique must’ve intimidated him. Compared to Jimin, he in no shape to win a fight against him.

After the guy left our sight, it was you and Jimin. You staring anywhere but him. His eyes on nowhere but you. “I’m going home.” Your voice came out weak but you were surprised it did after all. You doubted he heard you in this loud place. You glanced at him before moving away from him. His facial expression told you that he was mad, fuming really but he wasn’t likely to show aggression. He wasn’t that kind of a person. Not because he was a softy or anything but because he was too chill for that jazz.

You managed to find your table then took your purse avoiding any possible eye contact from the boys then left. It only took you about 15-20 minutes to get home. You were already sober with the adrenaline. Way to ruin a night out. The heels were killing you by now so you took them off in the elevator and waited to reach our floor. With the beep sound, the elevator reached your floor and the doors opened. The feeling of familiarity was all you needed right now and as soon as you were a step away from the main door, your wish was granted.

The night was supposed to be great and yet here you were by yourself feeling worse than ever. If it weren’t for Jimin, you could’ve ended up in this guy’s house and God knows what would’ve happened then. You hated that you owed him that now. You gently put the key to the key hole, shortly after realizing it’s the wrong key. Just you were about to look for the next one someone grabbed you from the wrist and spun you over, pinned you to the door and forced a kiss on you. His cologne was familiar enough to knock you out of your senses. This wasn’t the familiarity you were asking for. Or was it? As much as you wanted to kiss him, more than anything in the world you didn’t reciprocate the kiss. It didn’t take him long to get that. He stepped away to look at you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Honestly? Everything.”

“Is it because of that guy?”

“Yes.” A big fat lie.

“Or is it the girl?” You rolled your eyes before kneeling down to get the keys.

“Why are you even here?” You spoke, your voice harsher than you intended it to be. You put the right key in this time and managed to open the door.

“I followed you.” He entered after you then closed the door behind him.

“Creepy.” You mock and put the keys on the key holder. You rush to your room that ironically happens to be right next to his. Just you were about to close the door he came in.

“You can’t deny what we have.” He leaned on the wall, blocking your way.

“What is it that we have?” You asked slowly losing your temper.

He took a step toward you, closing the distance. Just before he could you moved away from him.

“Look. Maybe we did have something. But now, it doesn’t feel like that anymore.”

Why did your chest hurt so badly?

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’re not meant to be.”

“But we are. Look you’re the only one in my mind. Every minute, every fucking second.”

 “Bullshit.” You sat yourself down on your bed to take a breath. The argument was getting heated up and you didn’t want that, not that you didn’t want to argue with him but to give him that. He felt important but was he really that important?

“If you want to address to what happened tonight, it was all your fault.” He said coldly.

“Excuse me?” You looked at him offended, your voice raised slightly. He sighed and sat next to you.

“If you weren’t wagging your tail at Hoseok like that nothing would’ve happened. The girl. That jerk. This, right now.”

“I wagged my tail at Hoseok? He’s my friend! You should’ve known that by now. Your stupid misunderstanding led to this. It caused a chain reaction and now I feel more defeated than you I have.”

“How about we stop blaming each other and enjoy each other’s company? It’s just you and me at last.”

“Jimin I-“ you tried to protest. He cut you off by putting his thumb on your lip then moved it on your cheek as he intently watched you.

“I’m going to show you what it is that we have.” He leaned in and waited for you for a second to see whether if you liked it or not. You didn’t hate it but you were butt hurt and you wanted to rant but he was making it impossible. It was as impossible as resisting to him.

Once he made sure it was okay to kiss you, he slowly pecked you. Your heart fluttered with the warm feeling taking over your body. His eyes met yours briefly. There was hunger, lust and a little bit of innocence hidden. Was it perhaps love? You gulped on your thought right before he connected our lips for a longer kiss. You were no longer mad. You wanted him. You wanted him right there and then. You put your hands on each side of his cheeks deepening the kiss turning it into a full on make out session. He broke the kiss to look at you.

“Holy shit.”

You pulled him to continue from where you were left off only for him to pull back again. Disappointed in the loss of his soft lips on yours, you let out a grunt and gave him an annoyed look.

“If you won’t stop me now, you won’t be able to.”

“I don’t want you to.” You spoke as moving a stray hair out of his face, giving him a smile. His mouth dropped a little to say something. His face was redder than you could ever imagine him possible be. His lips once more found yours much more forcefully. With the impact of the kiss you were now lying on your bed. He easily turned you around and you were now on top. You could feel his growing member underneath you making you more aroused than you already were. His hand found the hem of your little dress, removing it with one swift move leaving you in your purposefully picked lacy underwear. He admired your body for a second and seemed pleased with the choice you’ve made.

“Mm. Somebody was prepared.” He grinned. You felt the blood rushing up to your cheeks so you leaned in for a kiss. You didn’t want him to see the affect he had on you.

“That’s cute.” He smiled in between the kiss. Well shit.

“Shit baby.” He spoke breathlessly as he admired your breasts and pulled you closer to him as he gently palmed them. You moved your hips a little to rub his manhood. A moan escaped his plump lips. Then you pushed him off with a smirk on your face before tugging on his shirt signaling for him to strip down.

“Your wish is my command.”

He quickly took off his shirt and his pants. You licked your lips and admired the view. He was like a Greek statue. He was perfect. This was perfect.

“Like what you see huh?”

“Mm-hmm.” You smile and give him a kiss as you climb back on him. After giving one last peck on his lips you slowly started going down on his body. He exhaled loudly then tilted his head back. You kept leaving trails of sloppy kisses until you stop on his V-line just before you got to his manhood. You sucked on him little through the fabric of his boxers making him shiver with anticipation. You pulled his boxers down and took his member in your hand and stroked him up and down. He gave you a vulnerable look as you brought your lips closer to him; he gulped right before gave him a little peck. Then you started to lick him from his base to the tip of his shaft. You tease him by making delicate circles with your tongue on his tip before wrapping your lips around his member. His hands almost immediately found the back of your head and pushed you further down to your surprise. You gagged a little before readjusting yourself to take him deeper.

“Sorry.” He breathed chuckling. “Jesus.” You chuckled and rolled your eyes then gave his now rock hard member another kiss before taking him back in.

“Damn you’re good.”

You giggled then shrugged with a smug look on your face.

“Your turn now. I want to taste you baby.” He brought you back up and gently placed you on the mattress and kneeled down before the area you craved him the most. He teased your entrance with his tongue then swirled it around your clit. Every spot his lips touched was aching for his touch.

“So this is the affect I have on you?” He whispered turning you on more than you already were. You didn’t think that was even possible.

A moan escaped your arched lips causing him to smile with amusement and victory.

“I’m almost there.” You breathed heavily feeling the throbbing sensation taking over your lower abdomen.

“Wait for me baby.” He said before standing up, motioning you to scoot further so he could join you in the bed. He climbed on top of you then placed himself in between your legs. He rubbed his dick along your entrance teasing you mercilessly.

“Stop teasing.” You said through gritted teeth. He smirked at your hastiness and licked his lips as if you hadn’t suffered enough.

Hasty or not you couldn’t wait any longer so you wrapped your legs around him and pulled him to you startling him with your sudden action.

He collided his lips with yours as finally slid himself in. Your bodies became one. You pulled him closer with your arms leaving you chest to chest. His warmth on you sent an ecstatic feeling into each pore existing on your body. With each thrust you were again getting closer and closer to your climax this time to be able to let it go. He planted brief kisses now and then on your lips as he continued to penetrate you.

“I’m-.” You moaned and tensed around him before you could let him know your body was trembling with your climax.

His breathing increased and his thrusts became erratic indicating he was also close. He pulled out and jerked off and spilled himself all over your belly.

“You made a big mess big boy.” You teased playfully. He laughed and stood up to get a towel.

“Let’s take a shower instead.” You offered.

“One condition.” He jumped back on the back looking dead serious.

“Uh...yeah, okay what is it?”

“Be my girlfriend.” He spoke softly nuzzling into your neck leaving small traces of kisses here and there.

“Oh. OH. Well I thought it would be like a one night stand kind of a thing.” You pushed his face away.

His face fell almost immediately. He looked down and gulped and you truly felt bad at the sight. Yet it was definitely worth it.

“I’m just messing with you.” You smacked his arm and leaned in for a peck.

“You, are the worst.” He put his hand on his chest sighing in relief.

“Seriously though. Let’s get it done before Jungkook gets back.”

“After you girlfriend.”

[yukiwrites]

Magic, not Actually the Same

Thank you so much for the support and patience as always, @xpegasusuniverse! Henry, please, don’t scare them too much!

Summary: There were many kinds of magic throughout the myriad of worlds out there. The graduates from the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad, Lorenz, Annette, Mercedes and Constance still attended some of the mage classes in Askr, but after one particular class, they met Henry...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

__________________________

The Order of Heroes was a place where many people of different backgrounds worked together towards a common goal -- it was their differences that allowed them to form bonds they'd never thought possible back in their original worlds.

Of course, that also meant that Heroes with similar experiences also converged together so as to share and gain new knowledge. There were three of such groups that stood out among the others: The Community of Hatchet-Operating Persons, also known as CHOP; the Hatchet Aspirational Committee of Knowledge, also known as HACK, and; the currently unnamed, self-proclaimed School of Magic that usually took place three times a week at the library.

Though it by no means held a professional curriculum, the School of Magic of Askr was invaluable to the young or aspiring mages due to the amount of older, more experienced mages willing to pass down their knowledge. That was to the point that some students, although already enrolled in another school back in their world after having graduated a known School of Sorcery, made it their routine to participate in these classes.

That was because there was a wide array of magic available in Askr that they had never seen before in their world: some exclusive or rare magic that they would never be able to see again were they to miss this opportunity. So even though they were summoned to Askr while still being students, the young mages who graduated from the Royal School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad took it upon themselves to absorb as much knowledge as they could during their stay.

“Annie, today’s teacher already left; don’t you think we should head back, too? Perhaps to drink a bit of tea with these new pastries?” Mercedes placed a knitted pouch on top of the large table, intent on alluring her best friend with the sweet scent.

… Well, some students took it more seriously than others.

“Mercie… Just a bit more, I just gotta memorize this formula here…” Annette grumbled under her breath, replying mostly out of habit than actually acknowledging her best friend beside her. Once the girl set her sights on a subject, it was hard to pull her out of it.

“I do agree with Mercedes, Annette.” Lorenz got up from his seat beside Annette as a flock of students followed Knoll around to ask questions pertaining to the class. “A tired mind will not make any more progress even if pushed to do so. A relaxing cup of tea with great company will do wonders to soothe your spirit, giving you better focus afterward.”

The young girl grimaced, then pouted. “Buuuut, I just can’t get it to get into my head! It’s ‘magic’, but it’s still so hard to use! What’s up with that?! I thought I’d be able to use a tome as long as I had magical energy, but this- this- huff!” She hit her feet under the table, more intent than ever to understand the puzzle right in front of her.

“Not to fret, little Annette! I, Constance von Nuvelle, will crack this mystery for all of us! There is no impossible magic for one such as I!” Constance got up from her seat with a proud huff -- her style of magic consisted more of experimenting with formulae rather than following their original path, so the power she wielded differed vastly from her peers.

It was because of that that not only Annette but also Mercedes looked up to Constance in a way that made the blonde tilt her nose upwards with inflated pride.

“Really? Will you help me with this, then? Look, I can’t make heads or tails of these-” Annette turned the large tome to Constance, pointing at whatever gibbering was written in the ancient askrian language.

With a glance, Constance was able to tell that she would take weeks to crack that. “W-well, perhaps doing so right away will spoil the fun, so why don’t you lend me this tome…”

“Ohhh, that’s a new kinda hex there!” A chirpy laugh sounded right over Constance’s shoulder, making her jump out of her own skin.

“W-who goes there! How dare you sneak up on a lady like this, young man!” She slapped her fan open as she took a step back, pointing to the white-haired, grinning lad that seemingly appeared in their midst as though through magic.

“Nyaha, you’re even louder than Maribelle! I bet you’d be good friends.” He sneered, then moved his gaze back to the tome on the table. “The name’s Henry! I never really came to these classes ‘cause they didn’t seem fun, but today’s teacher was a dark mage so I wanted to see what cool stuff he had to show us!”

“Hmm,” Lorenz crossed his arms, changing the weight of his body to one leg. “I did notice you simply staring at our teacher without taking any notes, ah, Henry.”

“Mhm! I mean, he didn’t say anything I didn’t know and boy, are the dark arts outdated wherever he came from! They’re still a taboo!” Henry let out a snort, running his thin fingers through the writings on the page. “This here, though? Fun! I’m gonna borrow it after you’re done, Annette, can I?” He raised one eyebrow questioningly, though from his tone of voice it felt either more like a demand or a really funny joke. It was hard to tell.

“Outdated? What’d you mean?” Annette’s eyes shone with the prospect of gaining more knowledge, especially from someone who could understand the strange language in that book.

“Welll,” Henry took his index to his lips as he looked up in thought, “I think not many people died from studying it yet, since he was so careful about telling everyone how dangerous it is and stuff! But it’s fun to research it, look!” He lifted his index overhead, mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath then pointed to the book in front of Annette.

A cold shiver went down their spines as a low, hellish whisper started to come from the very pages of the book.

“W-w-what-what’s going on? A g-ghost? What-” All color left Annette’s face as the voice within the book got louder, though the words were still incomprehensible.

B̵͍͕̹͍̜̭͚̺̪͝͝e̴̛͞҉̢̭͔̙̹̹͉̗̹̰̜̦̹̯̪̣̼̯ ̛̗͉͔̮̗̫̣̠̞͉̗̺͍̪̣̬̕͜͟c̸̰͍̞͞ú͏҉͉͙͕̙̠͇̣͉r̵̶̡̰̯̤̠̙̟̱͎̥̻̥̝͉͚͖͞͞ͅ ̼s̨̫͕̝̟̝̰̞̪̠̠̯͖͕̫̹̼͘e̷͎͓̣͇̤̪̼͞ḑ̶̰͇̰̼͠ ͍͓̝̫͈͈̻̙̟͇̤̫̟!̛́͟҉̼̗̱͖͇̤͞ ͕̲͓̯̗̼̩ ̢̛̞͍̬̱̫̹͎̰͓́̀ ͔̺̮̩̠ ̖̱͙Y̡҉̝͖͍͉͚̺͔̩̪̩̖̣͡ó̧̧̻̣̙͉͘͜ư̛̘̘͔̙̯̜͈̫̥͎̪̠̠̥ ̘̥ ̨̰̥̯͍̥̦̩̀͜͢ẁ͏̯͖̞̮̩͙̯̤̦͚̻͔̲̘̟ͅh̸̗̻̱̩̪̲̪̞̣̯̀͞ơ̶̲͕̘͎̘͕̕̕͠ ҉̵̡̮̗̫̯̤̣͕͖̙͎̩̰d͇̭͚̫͇̜̝͕̠̙̙̘̠̗͇͇̼͙́͟a̛̬̥̠̮͔̖̝̘͉͎͇̙͈͇̖͜ͅr̷͜҉̲͚̮͚̪͉̲̭̘̮̬̯͙̕ę̨̕͟҉̼͎ ̼̯̪̪̞̟͖ ҉̶̡̹̘͎̘̦̭̗͟r҉̥̮̝̭͚͔̟̬̫̦̝̙̖̜̲̙̲̙e̢̙̱̝̞͎̻̗̠͉͓̻͉̗̻͙̤̲͠a̡̧̢̡̪͇̪̝̘̹͇̣̜d̷͝҉̴̞͎͝ ̻̩̰͙͎̥̙̺̜̝̤̗̼ ̛͔̥̼̩͡ţ̀͠͏̵͈ ̗̻̗̤͖̫̥̮͔͖̣̭͖̝̤̥ḩ҉̴̡̮̕ ̰̹͍̱̭̤ ̦̖̱͕͔͕̯i̷̧̢̨̱̬̰͞ͅs̸͚̥͟͢͡ ̼̦̯͍̭̲̩ ̷̵̬͙̗͉̺̠͠b̴͙̜̜̯̬̫̠̬͔o҉̡͔̬͍͉̹͞͝͡ ͔ó̡̨͖̦̰̥̗͙̯̝̙͚̯̕͘ḱ̛̛̰̫̦̼͖͈ ̗͕͍͖̮̱!̨̨̭͕͍͙̤̼

They could barely understand it, but the sound of screeching fingernails, grinding teeth and chains that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time made their hearts grow cold.

… Well, Mercedes’ eyes were glistening as she clasped her hands in wonder, but she was the exception.

“Cool! There’s a curse in the book! Hey, can I keep it now? I wanna see if I can crack it-”

“Hold it right there!” Lorenz slapped Henry’s hand as he had reached out for the book one more. “Explain what you just did, young man! What was this sorcery? And I mean that as being one of the few who actually went to a school of sorcery!”

“I-indeed! This was no normal display of magic. What have you done to achieve such results?” Constance fanned herself to feign coolheadedness.

“Muh? Well, I just hexed it! I did kinda also go to a mage school back in Plegia, if that counts. We’re all dark mages where I’m from!” He replied cheerfully.

“Preposterous. Dark magic used in combat has no such effects!” Lorenz retaliated, pulling the book away from Henry as he did his best to ignore the deathly moaning coming from it. “Hexes? Pagan practices meant to fool the ignorant? I shan’t believe in such schemes!”

“Well, you’re a weird one! You just attended a dark magic class and you don’t believe it? Wow!”

“Why, I’ll have you know-”

“I’d love to show you more complex hexes, but I think Robin and Lissa would get mad at me if anyone died, so I guess I won’t, nyaha!” He said with a smile, though an ominous shadow covered his thin eyes.

“D-died? Hey, wait, am I trying to learn something really dangerous here? I just wanted to know more stuff to be more useful!” Annette shivered, somehow sitting on the opposite side of Mercedes so as to be as far as possible from the moaning book. “Knoll did say it could be dangerous and stuff, but- death? I-I just wanted to help…”

“Huh. You’re not trying to learn magic to kill people? Another weirdo here, huh?” Henry grinned, pointing to the book once more. “Can I have that for a sec? I think if it finishes chanting whatever it started, our heads might explode! Pop!” He made a funny sound with his mouth as the group collectively lost the color on their faces.

“By all means-” Lorenz cleared his throat as he slid the book through the table to Henry, who simply had to touch it for the moaning to stop.

“Okay, uh-huh… Wow! That’s a really old curse. I’m gonna show this to Tharja later, she’s gonna love it.” He forced the book closed with a thump, silencing it once and for all.

“You will have to explain more than that, young man.” Constance tapped her fan on her palm. “I have researched magic more diligently than anyone and I have never heard of such phenomena.”

Henry turned to Constance with a gasp. “Really? Maybe the dark arts haven’t been researched at all in your world? Fun! You’ll get to discover a bunch of things.” He sing-songed as he held the large tome close to his chest. “But everything Knoll said today was true! There’s always a price to pay after using dark magic, and even greater prices if you wanna curse someone. Back then, people sacrificed other people for everything! Want to get your loved one? Plop, kill your neighbor for it! Want tomorrow to be sunny? Plop again, another neighbor dead! It must’ve been a bloodbath, nyaha!”

“Oh, goodness. Are you alright, Henry? Have you seen such things yourself?” Mercedes looked up to the strange boy, feeling compassion towards the smile he never erased.

“Mee?” He pointed to himself before his smile grew dangerously large. “Of course I saw it, silly! I slaughtered everyone in the village for killing my only family! I was sent to the mage school right away, so I got to know a bunch of other ways to kill people, too. It’s fun! You all should try it sometime.”

After saying that, he did a short bow just like how Robin taught him and bid them farewell. “I really gotta read this, so see you all next class! It’s gonna be lots of fun!”

Annette gripped at Mercedes’ sleeve to stop her own body from trembling. Constance and Lorenz frowned deeply, suddenly uncomfortable inside their own skins. Mercedes held her hands up in prayer, worried for the darkness inside that boy’s heart.

“Hey, Mercie…”

“Yes, Annie?”

“I kinda don’t wanna learn this anymore…”

The four of them exchanged glances before nodding solemnly, silently vowing to never attend a dark mage’s class ever again.

[chartreuserpent]

𝓔𝔂𝓮𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓽 𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 1 | 𝓐 𝓓𝓻𝓪𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓕𝓪𝓷𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

so, this is the first part, this is too cringey so read at your own risk. this is my first time posting a fic on tumblr so i hope y’all would support me uwu. also, expect some grammatic errors and such.

g e n r e: 

Angsty Fluff

t a g s: 

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, soft kisses, a lot of side-ships, angst, fluff, angst with happy ending?

s u m m a r y:

In which Draco Malfoy, the eternal enemy of the Boy who lived,  had realized his undeniably strong feelings for the certain Gryffindor. He has always convinced himself that he hates the latter but on their sixth year, the only daughter of the Weasley household has started dating the mighty Harry Potter, and Draco doesn't seem to agree with it... with a different reason.

Until, One night, he's stomping his way to the dungeons, to where their dormitories are, he's suddenly pulled by a stranger into an empty room, the room was dark and dusty. Since then, he couldn't forget about what happened that certain night on the 1st of September.

like wise, read under the cut off. | read on AO3.

The Great Hall is once again, filled with chatter and loud laughter. Everyone's minding their own businesses and occasionally being cut off as all of them were eating and chatting at the same time. As the feast goes by, a certain platinum blond-haired guy doesn't seem to quite enjoy the said feast. He's looking ahead, at thin air, or maybe something... someone to be exact. He's looking at the raven-haired guy at the Gryffindor Table, laughing with his friends, and seems like having fun in their own world. 

The raven-haired's broken nose earlier was now fixed by someone, the blond guy can't help but feel quite guilty for kicking the raven-haired's face, earlier on the train, he just got flustered for him eavesdropping on their conversation. He managed to avoid his and his frends’ topic earlier just for him not to hear, which the topic is... The Gryffindor lad. They were talking about how will Draco come out to everyone, especially his parents.

But by the look on Potter’s face, he seems like he could care less about being kicked on the face, he sure is nosy. His broken nose, it ruined his somewhat perfect neat look as it keeps on bleeding from time to time, making the platinum-haired guy uneasy and worried about the injury that he himself gave at the guy. He's quite occupied observing the raven-haired's every movement but was interrupted by something or someone rather, as they took the white handkerchief that's on the raven-haired's hand. He flinched a bit as he saw the 'she-Weasley' (based on Draco's words) wiping the blood off Potter's nose. Draco can't seem to understand why he reacted like that for a moment but he's sure of one thing... he doesn't like what he's seeing at all. He rolled his eyes and focuses his eyes on the plate in front of him, untouched, he gulped as he feels his stomach turning as he saw the food. He doesn't feel like eating at all, he steals a glance at Gryffindor guy once again and he's somewhat caught off guard. His grey-almost-silver eyes met his green ones, the raven-haired flinched too when their eyes met, his eyes full of curiosity and a hint of worry which you can barely see, for the blond. His green-spectacled eyes linger on the blond's plate then goes back to his grey ones, making the blond's heartbeat rapidly increase into two or more beats than normal. Draco can't help but just glare at the guy for the air between them became less awkward. Harry returned his glare with a sharp one, a death glare, Draco almost got terrified by it. But he held his heart on his sleeve which almost popped. The dinner went quite well for Draco and the Gryffindor lad, "Draco, you didn't eat? Are you okay?" Parkinson asked with a worried tone. 

He just shrugged at her muttered an "I'm fine, just not feeling doing so." and stomped his way out of the Great Hall. He felt so tired today and disappointed, he doesn't know why, or maybe he knows but he keeps on denying it. He's alone in the deserted corridor, stomping his way to the Slytherin dormitory when someone pulled him into one of the rooms, he felt himself panics and his heart thumping too loud on his chest, he breaks into a sweat and waiting for the person who pulled him to hex him or what. 

He holds his wand to be ready, but no hex or punch has come for him, but a warm pair of lips. The kiss is soft and cautious, not too delicate and modest but something sweeter than a lover's kiss would, more caring and loving. It's full of longing and care. Draco couldn't move an inch. His mind is fussy, he couldn't think straight, he found himself responding to the kiss, getting himself lost in the mysterious person's touch. He wrapped his arms into the person's neck, it is now confirmed that it's a guy and he felt a pair of strong arms snaked their way to his waist, he grunts between the kisses at the feeling, he felt butterflies on his stomach. He melts into this person's touch, the way he caresses Draco's cheeks while the other hand is holding Draco close to his body. Constant hip rolls and grinding. It makes Draco crazy in ways he hadn't felt before. The tingling feeling that is running down his spine makes Draco shiver, Draco wants to lean more in his touch. The blond-haired guy wants more, he couldn't take it anymore, he wants to see this person. But when he was about to cast a Lumos on the room, because it's too dark to see the person who kissed him. The person held his hand who's holding his wand and kisses it, before exiting the room in a flash. Draco's dazed, he doesn't know what just happened. But he knows one thing for sure, the pair of lips who touched his... he wants to claim it again. He didn't regret what happened today, the only thing he regrets is he didn't get to know who the person was.

✧ ✧ ✧ Morning came in like thunder, Draco feels even more tired than yesterday, his eyes flutter as the breakfast goes by. He doesn't feel like eating but he needs to eat to replenish his energy from yesterday, and his stomach is grumbling wildly too. His mind is still blank from what happened yesterday night, but he felt himself smiling a little by the thought of it. Unknowingly he looks at the Gryffindor table with tired eyes and a droopy face, he was bewildered to see a pair of green eyes looking at his grey ones. It seems like this made him get to his senses and all his sleepiness from earlier is now gone. As usual, he'd throw a glare at the raven-haired guy and the Gryffindor lad would just give him a stern look. It makes Draco happy just by seeing Potter giving him this much attention, but he secretly hopes he could be closer to him at least. And we all know that is impossible, and Draco knows it to himself too, just Draco being himself will just make everyone, especially Potter throw a fit. He knows it to himself but he's just hoping for the impossible. His eyes linger on the guy's emerald eyes for a bit before his eyes landed on the latter's pair of lips, he wonders how it would feel if it touches his, he wonders if it would taste the same as the person's lips from yesterday. He is too pre-occupied by the thoughts of it as he unconsciously licks his lower lip, earning a gulp from the latter but Draco doesn't seem to notice because he's too busy staring at the lad's lips. Draco felt a pang of hunger after a heavy breakfast... The breakfast finished and the first class is Potions, a class with Gryffindors. Draco goes to his class with an occupied mind, busy with the thoughts of Potions Class being held by a new professor. And the rest is just him thinking about the scene last night, daydreaming of it. He came back into reality when he felt a sudden tap on his shoulders. He looks around to see who is it and it was Pansy, frowning, "What is it, Pans?" Draco said casually, he looks forward and is nearly thrown out of his seat when he saw who's facing them. Three pairs of eyes are looking at him like he's crazy. He looks over at Pansy and Blaise and they just shrugged, "H-hey what are we doing here?" he whisper-shouts at Pansy and Blaize. Not wanting the people sitting in front of them to hear it. He's panicking inside but his emotionless face stays, not letting the three Gryffindors see that he's panicking. Pansy gave him a deadpanned look and he just loses it, he rolls his eyes at her and tried to focus on his book. He can hear Pansy snickering beside him, for obvious reasons, his elbow found Pansy's side earning a grunt from the Slytherin girl. He sighed and tried to ask Pansy again, she stares at him for a while before leaning closer to him. Too close than necessary. "Dray... you literally straight up walk and sat here, then me and Blaise we're looking at each other like "Merlin, is he out of his mind." look written on our faces. Your mind is so occupied that you ended up sitting with Potter and his squad," she giggled and put a distance between her and Draco. Draco's a blushing mess after hearing it. He was so embarrassed and tried to find other seats but the rest are just occupied by someone else. 'Shit, I swear to my Father's cane that I won't space out again.' he thought at the back of his head cursing himself internally. The rest of the class are just him and the spectacled-Gryffindor occasionally exchanging glances, glares, and smirks. Draco could care less about the lessons but he wants to impress everybody or someone in particular. His friends, Blaise and Pansy, apparently saw right through him and is sending him smirks whenever he looks on their way, the said two are also snickering when they notice the two guys are caught staring at each other, then blushing afterward or avoiding each other's gazes with a small smile plastered on their face. It seems like one of Potter's friends, obviously, it's Granger, notices his too and is smiling to herself or shaking her head at the two. After potions, they have DADA, and while on their way to the next class Pansy caught Draco off with one question, "Why don't you just date him?" Pansy said casually as if the two weren't enemies for years. Draco looked at her like she's weird or psycho, and the Slytherin girl just looked at her seriously, sternly. He sighed, "What do you mean?" Draco said acting as if he doesn't know what Pansy was saying. "Argh, stop with that act Dray, you know what I mean." she rolled her eyes at him, Draco sighed again in defeat, his cheeks flushing beet red, he's a loss for words. "You know that is clearly impossible Pans," he stated, eyes wandering on the corridor. "Well, I know where you are getting started. But it won't hurt trying right?" she reassured him and smiled a little, holding his wrist and pulling him inside the classroom. "Sorry to break it to you guys, but the thing is, I think he's dating the Weasley girl." Blaise suddenly said, making Pansy and Draco flinch from shock. The two sent him a death glare and he chuckled and raised both of his hands, surrendering, he can't win against these two. Draco thought about what Blaise said, it makes sense actually, the raven-haired guy and the red-head girl are quite fond and touchy with each other lately. And Draco, well, naturally notices it. He has an eye of an eagle when it comes to the Gryffindor Boy. He furrows his brows by the thought of him being rejected by Potter because he's dating a Weasley. He grimaces at the thought. He turns to Pansy still with a frown, "I don't think I'd like to confess to him, I can't handle being rejected. I mean, no one would reject me, but I don't want to ruin their relationship," the platinum-haired said sassily. 'There he goes again, being sassy.' Parkinson thought and chuckles to herself tho she's used to it. "Hmm... it's your choice anyway," she said to him, shrugging and rubbing her hand on his back as if comforting the latter. "But then again, Draco. It's not bad to shoot your shots sometimes," Pansy reminded him and Draco just shrugged and look forward and tried to listen to their topic. Pansy turns to Blaise and smirks, "I'll bet five galleons that he'll confess, we know Draco, he can't be at ease until he says what's on his mind." the Slytherin girl said confidently, Blaise smirks back and shook his head. "10 galleons, Draco's a coward," Blaise said surely and Pansy just smirks and rolls her eyes at him. Pansy knew that but she also knew how Draco acts when it comes to his feelings. They turned their heads to Draco then snickered before listening to their professor in front. The three Slytherin find the subject boring but the sight of Potter and his friends being interested in the subject just made the three Slytherin chuckle. They're just too fascinated by the fact that those three are too different from one another but manages to create a long-lasting friendship. Draco would smirk at Potter when he's looking at him and the Gryffindor would just send him an annoyed look but once he faces forward a small smile would creep on his face. Draco notices it but reminded himself that Potter is dating someone. Harry realizes it too and mentally slaps himself across the face for acting differently when his girlfriend's not around. Blaise would also bother Ron when he had the chance, pulling his hair and tapping his shoulders then acts like he didn't do it. Ron looks like he would explode anytime soon at Blaise but Blaise just sends him a smirk then muttered a half-ass sorry at the Ginger-head. On the other side, Pansy couldn't bother Hermione, the Gryffindor girl values his education so much that she's ignoring Pansy sending her notes. But just like her friend Harry, she would glance at the note then smiles afterward. Let's just say that, the rest of the day is just the Slytherin Trio being whipped for the certain Gryffindor trio. 

[bnhavibes]

Y/n goes out on a late-night run to get out some nervous energy and ends up running longer than expected. Since their still not tired they decided to call their best friend Shinso to ask if they can come over for a bit. You can decide from there, thank you b.

announcements!!

requests can take a while, i’ve decided to start writing a fic 🥰 but i haven’t chose who to pair with my OC so im going to have you vote in my asks!(or dm me on discord if u want to make certain requests too!

do you want reader insert with (y/n) or should we just name the OC? (side note: whats an alluring name?) <answer a for (y/n), b for (your suggestion).

should it be bxg, bxgxb, or gxgxb? <answer a, b or c>

who would you like to see in this pairing(s)? <answer a, Katsuki Bakugou, b, Shouto Todoroki, c, Izuku Midoriya, d, Ejirou Kirishima, e, Denki Kaminari, f, Momo Yayaorozu, g, Jirou Kyouka, h, Hitoshi Shinsou, i, League of Villains (insert up to 2 members unless you’ve picked a student or hero), j, any other options besides Endeavor, Aayoma, Tokoyami, Asui, Shigaraki, and anybody who’s personality i cannot portray lmfao)

Shinsou, Hitoshi x Reader

(request)

(NSFW) warning!

cussing, some heavy makeouts with descriptive characteristics

not actual penetration

but enough steam to keep it: moisy

College aged upUA! (so basically ua is a college lmao)

18+

this one is gonna be long since i pushed it off so far sorry bb😭

“Hey, you up?”

you: (typing) So I’ve been running for way longer than I thought, stuck thinking and overthinking about my life and I found myself by your apartment and wanted to stop by to get some advice? I know it’s pretty late but you’re always saying if you need me at 2am |

“Fuck, no, I can’t say that!” You growl in frustration before erasing the dumb text. Twiddling your thumbs above the screen as your hands laced the back of your device, you pace around, frantic about how you were gonna tell your old best friend that you were outside his apartment and desperately freezing. (it was like the middle of the night, and yet you were out in a crossed-back tank top, with a windbreaker and loose running shorts.

You and Shinsou have known each other for as long as you remember. You weren’t on good terms for a while; The first time he announced that he got his Quirk, you were out sick, and all of the kids in your class teased and picked on him. He essentially blamed you for not being there and defending him, but you guys didn’t see each other between the end of middle school and middle of high school. Now that you both go to UA, and are at the mercy of pros, you have to deal with working together for the sake of the citizens (even if you have bad blood between you). But you didn’t expect him to be so relieved when he saw you at school. And the two of you got along so well, it was like he was never even mad at you. He did bring it up, once, but he has only ever been nothing but kind to you when you started studying with him.

Then you started hanging out with him.

More and more.

More boundaries being pushed.

More times you’re together than not.

More things to study for? Hah, typical.

Then you’re having sleep overs.

Where you sleep in his bed.

...And he spoons you.

..........Weird.

‘Thats weird, right?’ You think to yourself the morning after. Nobody should be in the same bed with other people if they’re not together right? Shouldn’t it feel weird that you went to bed with another adult? That’s just your friend?

you: Are we just frien—

You stop yourself before even finishing that idiotic question, groaning in frustration. “What the hell do I say to him?” You tell your device more than yourself, at this point, just looking for answers.

New Message: Shinsou

Your eyes bulge out of your head and your hands almost drop your phone at the sudden vibration in your hand.

Shinsou: yeah, im just up doing dumb shit on my computer anyways

you: you mean like beating off? ewwww tmi Shinsou Hitoshi 🥴

Shinsou: fuck you (Y/f&l/N) 😂

Shinsou: if you want me to beat off before you get here, i can tho

you: i mean you’ll have enough time do it, i just so happen to be walking in to your apartment complex 😂😉

You giggle as you head up the stairs to his small student apartment, knowing the way all too well by memory.

Shinsou: wtf? 🤨 why were you all the way over here.

you: i couldn’t sleep, so i decided to go jogging

you: turns out i was drugged

you: kidnapped

you: and returned nearby because i kept annoying the shit out of the dudes

Shinsou: figures. 💀

Shinsou: i would’ve dropped you off at the loony bin tho

Shinsou: we’d probably both have to sign in tbh😂😂

you: 😒 come open the door ya punk.

The warm smell of freshly cooked— or reheated— pizza filled your nostrils as the door was opened for you. Stepping in and removing your shoes, you glance around to see if anyone else was over.

“Sorry, I know I said I would clean it.” He mumbles, thinking you were looking at the mess of a living area he made this morning. (because building forts is cool, okay?)

“No, you’re good,” You chuckle as you remove your jacket, “it IS your house anyways. Not like i can tell you what to do.”

A pregnant pause filled the air before you realized he had went and disappeared to his room and you were still by the door. Shaking your head at yourself, you follow him, building up courage to confront last night’s cuddle thing.

When you got to his room, however, he had laid out a towel on his bed and was looking through his closet. You dropped your shoes and looked around to seethat his shower was running, and there was the hair brush you lost on his desk (with a sticky note that said ‘Text (y/n) you found it. Reminder #251’). There was still rummaging behind you when you look at him in the reflection of his computer.

When he pulls out a shirt of his that you always compliment him in.

And a pair of exercise shorts that he hadn’t worn yet.

You blush when you realize he wants you to shower in his bathroom.

And then put his clothes on.

“Hit—Hitoshi-san?” You questioningly squeak, squeezing your eyes shut once you hear how cringey it sounded to be calling him by his last name again.

He notices the change, though, blinking softly at you with a shirt in hand. “I—... I just thought you, m-maybe wanted to shower. Cause you’re sweaty and stuff. Plus you might be able to fall asleep better.” He defended himself, putting his hands up.

“N-No, I know, I just...” You face him, avoiding his gaze. “I have to.. um...” You couldn’t do it. You were backing out.

“Tell me, what’s on your mind? I’m here if you need to talk.” He says, trying to catch your eyes as he steps toward you.

“Hito-sssh-hitt. Ugh! Why is it so hard to tell you!?” You curse your tongue for letting you sputter so embarrassingly in front of your best friend. You pace toward Shinsou, but turn back, groaning as you face palm repeatedly.

“You’re acting weird, (Y/N). Since when were you calling me by my last name, you know you can call me pretty much anything else. I swear if you say some dumb shit about another prank I’m gonna—

“Are we just friends or what?” You spat, slapping a hand over your mouth as soon as the words slipped out.

“What?”

The look on his face was so.... precious?

His eyes widened a little, mouth agape with loss, and shoulders cringing a bit at his sudden nerves. You removed your hand slowly but turned it into a fist as quick as it landed at your side.

“Y-You heard me. Are we just friends or, is there m-more... between us..” You trailed off, not noticing how close you’d gotten yourself when he was talking to you.

“More?” He asked, his voice seeming to be hung on to a thin string of hope. He inhales sharply before speaking softly:

“I— I thought... Well, to be honest these last few months with you have been awesome b—

“—But you don’t have feelings for me right?” You interrupted him, looking up into (what felt like to him) his soul.

So it was just you? You started to leave, his hesitation enough of an answer for you.

“No, I- Hey, wait!” He was confused, the poor boy, as to how you took his words. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay, Hitoshi-san.” You say, smiling back at him with a hand on his bedroom door knob.

“S-Seriously! I— Uhm..” He stopped you from opening the door with his hand over yours, pushing the door closed all together when he tripped over a loose shoe and against your body.

You gasp at the sudden fall, but can’t help but worry about him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, helping him stand up straight. “Sorry about the shoe— Mmmph?”

He kissed you so softly, you’d think it was a ghost. His hands cupped around your head, fingers laced through your hair as they almost support your movements. Instinctively you’re kissing him back, letting his body tower over yours and press you harder against the wall. His lips were like soft pillows, and his tongue flicked at your lips, teeth, and tongue so well that you couldn’t help but pull him in closer and closer; the longsleeved sweatshirt he had on was bunching up from your grasps, and you could feel his skin just barely grazing your own. You’re subconsciously tracing designs on his sides with your fingers, slowly running them along the hem as it lifts up when the feeling of heat in your stomach (and face) brings you back to your realitive plain of existence.

You’re currently making out with your best friend.

And you can feel how much he likes it.

“Sh-Shinsou, I—I’m sweaty.” You say, pushing him back a little.

He raises an eyebrow at you. (is that really gonna stop him? shusoskfkdjd)

Then he’s back on your lips, picking your legs off the ground and pulling them around his hips; pressing you back into the wall and grinding himself so deliciously against you. Soft moans escape your lips as his own travel to your neck, hands creeping up your shirt this time. Instead of touching you, however, he only lightly grazes your skin with the lads of his fingers up your torso until hes able to lift your shirt off (with help from you of course). Once it’s off, he’s back at your neck, leaving sloppy kisses before grabbing you by the ass and walking to his bathroom.

He set you down on the sink counter, ridding himself of his shirt and lowering himself down to his knees; His hands at your hips, fingers teasingly looping the elastic waistband of your shorts. He looks up at you with those eyes— The ones that ignite the flame in your core, those piercing, desperate eyes. He’s leaning his head into your thigh as he looks up at you, a smile smirk shows that your reaction to his wherebouts must be entertaining to him. You can feel your core tremble as he lays kisses on your legs, occasionally taking a nice long drag of his tongue along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and stopping at the hem of your shorts. Letting a tiny gasp slip, you place your hands on his to stop him. He looks up at you for a second, but his worries wash away when he sees your hardened nipples and flush skin.

“You look so cute like this.” His voice breaks the tension in the air before he kisses your thighs again. “So flustered and confused.” He bites down gently on your skin, causing you to stifle a moan. He sucks slowly, his teeth just grazing you enough to leave a mark, but not enough to make it hurt. You gasp when his head moves to your centre, the heat of his exhales sending chills up your spine.

“You’re just... so naughty, aren’t you (Y/N)?” He whispers onto the thin cloth before laying his head back down on your leg, pulling your shorts down painfully slow. “You’re absolutely soaked, huh? I can smell you from here.” He looks at you, cueing you to lift your legs up, pulling your shorts off completely before returning to his position between your legs.

“No panties, huh?” He chuckles, scooting you to the edge of the counter by your hips. “You’re so god damn beautiful.” He whispers on your lips, your mouth just slacked enough for him to take advantage of, slipping his tongue straight past your teeth and directly brushing against your tongue. You feel yourself pooling over the counter, soaking against his boxers when he starts to take them off.

“Tell me what you wanna do.” He says against your collarbone, fingers still looped around the edges of his boxers.

“I, I need to sh-shower.” You squeak.

“You’re so fucking cute,” He says after chuckling. “I meant me, kitten, now do you want me or not?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I — I want you, Shinsou. I want all of you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, (Y/N).”

“I’m not, I promise— but, ugh, can you just fuck me already?”

The boldness of your words cracks a shit eating grin you only knew from that class 1-A asshat onto Shinsou’s face.

“Get in the fucking shower then.”

[thepilgrimofwar]

Of Dirt and Gold

He waited until all the important people had quit the chambers, until the warplanning and the debates and the logistics were hammered out, until the words were chewed over in his mind. It was all the same, he’d thought-- these plannings were just shoving forces here and there, shoring up edges and pressing advantages. It was the most boring part of war; tactics and strategy that did not survive the first encounter.

Now, though, he waited outside Stenden’s office, waiting for the young Lord to return. He did not pace, instead leaning with booths shoulders to the wall, finger tapping out the tune for Goodember’s Fall on his elbows.

Vissehn did not wait long as Stenden came marching up the spiral staircase. He was exhausted and somewhat flustered from the affairs he just had to deal with. Though it had ended amicably, he felt that he was this close to insubordination if he had not come to a compromise with Lirelle. He was glad for Thanidiel’s presence and suggestion- And Vissehn’s support, the one thing he could always count on.

Seeing his friend at his door, he managed a tired smile. “Hey Viss,” he said, the shortened name he had coined on the rooftops seemed to stick. “I think that went well, all things considered.”

“Ey, Sten.” He tried out the shortening of the name, finding it worked better than he could have hoped. “It sure went.” Vissehn pushed away from the doorframe and stepped into the office first, showing his back to Stenden as he gathered… what he could of his thoughts. 

Once they were in the room, Vissehn perched himself on the edge of Stenden’s desk and levelled eyes at the youth, one brow cocked. “You and the dead woman sure have a lot of thoughts on people whomst neither of you come from. Those soldiers might be your people by law of these lands, an’ she might see their blood as just the war’s due, but unless they’re dead set to dying for one Lord over another, there’s always more there. Least the militia.”

His voice was carefully neutral, despite the words, and he bounced one leg. 

“Do you think I made the right choice?” Stenden’s tone is filled with exasperation. There was no answer to this question of course. Everyone had an answer that was right to them. “I have thoughts of them for sure, but as far as I’m concerned, they are not tools- To be used, expended, until they are of no use to me- That was Mereded’s way, and I’m trying so hard not to repeat his mistakes.”

The anger in the youth abated some at the genuine frustration and consideration Stenden put into the fate of the captured. “It’s a sight better than outright ordering their deaths.” He offered softer, and ran a hand through his golden thatch of hair. “I think yer trying, and that’s more’n I can say for most nobility I’ve come across.” He glanced sidelong, lips pulling into a tight furl. “They’re men an’ women just like us.”

He glanced to Stenden again, taking the measure of the boy once more. That red hair, the fine-boned face that was so like his lady mother’s, the set of jaw that was somewhere between father and uncle. He would grow tall-- as tall as Sederis, in all likelihood, if not taller. Intelligence lit those green eyes, and emotion that was raw and mortal.

“Sten, yer gandsire made his mistakes in thinkin’ oceans of blood would buy lasting peace. There’s no thing as lasting peace-- there’s spans of time where shit isn’t as raw a deal, but it always ends.” He sighed. “If you remember that an’ keep the price of violence low, yer ahead.”

His thoughts swam; Stenden had spent his whole life sheltered in these and the Dawnveils’ walls. He’d never been so hungry his body wasted, never know a violence so far above him he couldn’t retaliate. He wasn’t a cruel or unjust lad-- he was so used to the life of a Lord he knew nothing else.

Finally, he stood up. “After this next engagement, I want ye to set aside some time for yer pal Fish. Not much-- the span of a few days. Leave th’paperwork for yer father for a spell.” He closed the distance and laid a hand on Stenden’s shoulder, forcing his lips to pull the roguish smile that had predicated their trip to the roof. “Ye trust me?”

“I do, of course I do,” Stenden responded with a tired smile of his own, though it would never be as roguish, never be as wide. It was true of course, that he had lived a sheltered life. Never starved. Never struggled for warmth on a cold winter’s night. “It may be difficult, but I’ll make time for you.”

“And I know they are just men and women like you and me, but there are so many voices Viss, so many. From both the living and the dead,” he ran his hands over his face and through his hair, undoing his tie and letting the locks fall across his shoulders. “My father speaks about them as leverage. Mother speaks about them as means to vengeance. Lirelle speaks of tools to war. Sederis speaks- spoke- of them as children. His duty- my duty, to protect them, from the abuses of power- even- especially the ones from myself.”

“That way, I will never be like Mereded. He may have had two hundred years of peace, but the cost of that is one we are paying for now. Because you’re right. Peace never lasts. Nothing ever lasts.” Vissehn didn’t know what the boy was referring to exactly. But neither did Stenden. In a span of two weeks, which felt like an eternity, everything for the boy had changed. He had changed.

The cascade of red hair was so familiar it ached in Vissehn’s throat. If he could have prevented the death of Sederis, he would have-- his regret, as it was for many, from the Phoenix Wars. He could have saved a friend, and saved a youth from a weight far too much for one to carry so young.

“It’s hard, to just see people as people. That’s all they are, though.” He shrugged. “Sederis was a good man but he was blinded by his guilt an’ what his father tried to make of him. Yer mother’s been a pawn in so many politics… I figure, she’s burnin’ herself up to reclaim somethin’ robbed from her and she’d take all of the Emberglades down wiv her if it means getting her pound of flesh. Women don’t get it easy, no matter their place in the world.” His voice is soft on that, something almost bitter and longing in the words. “Yer father sees numbers an’ can’t tell a man from a scarecrow.” His voice becomes a sneer, and his lips curl away from his teeth. “Thinks yer lineage is what sets a man apart. Huh.”He suppressed the urge to spit. 

Taking a breath, he closed the distance and placed a hand on Stenden’s shoulder. “Hey.” Again his voice went low with an urgent earnestness. “Yer doing what you can, right? Just keep trying. Keep making th’choices that no one wants to hear, for the sake of people who may not like or respect ye. You’re more than decent, Sten. I got faith in your choices. I’m here fer advising and helping where I can, but the reason I’m here is ‘cause I got faith in you. I wouldn’t have signed on wiv Solendis, an’ I didn’t become Sederis’ anything but friend, yeah? Ye said you were the Lord of the Emberglades, an’ it weren’t a title-- well, I ain’t signing on with a title, I’m signing on wiv you.”

He speaks with a conviction that he wills to fill his friend, to flow from the place his hand connects. His thumb brushes the place where collar meets skin and he grins roguishly. “I’m here to listen if ye got summat else to tussle with. Or if ye just need some sense beat into yer arse.”

Stenden makes a chuckle, the first today. “I appreciate it, I really do,” he looks up at his friend. “You have to believe me Viss, when I say that I’m trying my best. That if I make a bad choice, it isn’t out of callousness, or that I’ve forgotten that people like you are just that: People.” And at the same moment of confession and a promise not to be callous, he mentioned that very line that got under his skin. Not so much that he said it, but the manner in which it was said. Like it was a matter of fact that there was something that set them apart at the core- and that it was normal

The hand drops. He wants to say it; wants to remind Stenden that they both bleed red, that their bones both bleach white in the sun, that their graves will be no more than stone and earth encompassing decay. Vissehn works the words over like tough hide in the jaws of his thoughts, and no matter how he grinds against it he finds no blood in the meat.

“So long as I have yer trust, we’ll be just fine, won’t we?” His voice is light, grin wide as he throws himself over the chair that faces Stenden’s desk. Words will not make a concept into a man; he cannot break a lifetime of Soldenis lectures with anger or debate or fighting until they’re bleeding, even if his belly screams for it, even if he would feel better by slamming someone with that noble blood hard enough against the stone to see it wash over his hands. 

Lying to survive was given to him in the cradle with milk; lies are the currency of the Unwelcomed, and Vissehn was wealthy beyond measure.

Swinging his long, lean legs, Vissehn whistled. “So! Got an uprising to settle, an’ then those… men in the ground who think we’re still fightin’ the Big Blue Lion, huh?”

“Yes,” he was glad for the redirection to the company of Men of the Black Banner who were somehow still operational in the troll tunnels that line the borders of the Emberglades. “I hear they’ve been stealing from peasants all along the mountain range, occasionally burning crops. Must think that the Alliance won and we’re all just sympathizers providing for the enemy now.”

Stenden wondered if the Civil War breaking out had anything to do with their sudden resurgence, or if they had always been there since the end of the war and Zarannis had been observant enough to pick them out.

Vissehn snorted. “Well, it’s a good thing I ain’t goin’ to that lil shindig.” He drew his hands under his eyes and batted his lashes at Stenden prettily. “These lookers would make ‘em shit bricks an’ shoot first, ask questions later.” His blue-gray eyes were certainly not the common Sin’dorei fare, shiny like metal and without the glow most considered inherent in the elves of the north. 

“Seems a real shite deal, though. Best of luck to them that are gonna try an’ pry them from their foxholes. Must be hard thinkin’ the world ended.” He whistled softly, but there’s no sympathy in his words; his fey mood has returned, masking the bubbling rage that boiled in his center.

Stenden laughed when his friend batted his eyelashes at him. “I’m sure they would. Hopefully father giving Zarannis their banner would at least make them pause for thought,” he said, shaking his head for his own benefit. “Just like the Shalemarchers. We’ll deal with them the best we can, and if we can get them home- All the better.” The boy failed to appreciate that if they had a home, it was likely gone in Lord Tar’saren’s scorched earth policy he employed against Everliegh. Stopping her advance dead in its tracks. The Bulwark functioning as its namesake.

Still sprawled like a kitten, Vissehn laughed, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ll wish ‘em well an be glad I ain’t joinin’. I’ll take a revolt over men who think it’s all over, anyday. A man whose got kin an’ babes an’ land can be reasoned with. A man without shite? Hoo.” He mimed wiping sweat from his brow.

Propping himself up on elbows, he let his grin reach his eyes. “Speakin’ of…” His tongue passed over his teeth as he weighed the capricious desire in him with the anger he struggled to hold at bay. In the end, he was no match for his own baser thoughts.

“Hows about we don some cloaks an’ slip off to somewhere they’re singin’ the good songs, all bawdy and blue.” He lifted his brows invitingly. “Or we can see if’n there’s some trouble to suss up with yon merchants in town. Somethin’ to get us out of this prison of a castle! Tel’dorei don’t do well in stone walls.” He drawled the last, a helpless and teasing whine.

“I really shouldn’t,” Stenden replied, and felt the weight of his station bear down upon him. But, he had already done his duty had he not? Put his foot down on what he could not accept, and what would be damaging to the realm that he had to put back together. The war meetings were over and it was all he was good for. Tomorrow’s reports could wait. His father was handling the amnesty proclamations. Drafting reconciliation clauses had a deadline that lay far into the future for now. All he would be losing was sleep, and with the war no longer in such a precarious state, he reckoned he could afford it.

“But yeah, why not?” He said with a grin. 

Vissehn’s grin was slow and languid, and he pushed up on the chair to rise, slinging his arm over Stenden’s shoulders as she all but pushed the youth out the door to the office and towards the guest wing. “I got a few spare cloaks an’ a ratty tunic that’d suit ye, let’s get gussed down an’ have ourselves a night.” This he whispered into Stenden’s ear, the anger metamorphizing into something capricious and fey; he couldn’t fight Stenden, not right now, so he’d do the damage his father had warned Vissehn against.

He’d make a mortal of the Lord, if it killed the both of them.

--

They made their way through the mostly-empty halls to Vissehn’s suite, and the youth threw the lock as soon as they were inside. “Now, come on, off with that fancy embroidered doily you got on an’ we’ll be out th’window an’ in a tavern afore the maids can gossip to yer father that you were seen walkin’ to my rooms.”

Led by the impeteous youth, Stenden tries his best to be silent as he makes his way to the guest wing. The beating of his heart rises, for the thrill and fears of being caught. Either by his father or the House Guards who would no doubt repeat what they saw to him. “Right then,” he says taking off his shirt of blues and golds and looking to Vissehn to provide him with something… Less telling of his station. “I doubt the patrons at the tavern would recognize me. I’ve hardly shown my face to the people until the last few months.”

“They’ll not think yer anything but maybe a byblow once I’m done wiv ye.” Vissehn’s brows arched high as he dug in his wardrobe, pulling and discarding clothing like mad. He’d earned hazard pay from his stint spying, and a sizable portion must have been blown on the clothing he now tossed wildly-- it was a flurry of linen and cotton. Finally, he found what he sought, and wadded it up before chucking it straight at Stenden’s head.

The tunic proved to be well made, if simple; geometric embroidery around the collar and hems were all it sported by way of ornament, the natural colors of the fibers making it seem of poorer make than it was. “I got that in… I think it was th’humans camp?” He whistled. “Smuggled it on’ to look th’part, but it was Eversong made, the man musta taken it off someones washline.” He snorted. “It’s too big for my scrawny bones but mayhap it’ll fit those growin’ young shoulders of yours.”

For his part, he simply pulled on a tight ocher vest, lacing it over his chest with a skill and speed that seemed uncanny. “Now, out the window we go!” His laughter was wild and bright as he flung himself to the sil and tossed the shutters wide. Without waiting, he was hopping onto the tiles, thoughts already halfway drowning in a bottle.

Stenden caught the wadded shirt as it rushed towards his face and chuckled. Then he gestured at the mess of clothes that had seemed to fountain out of Vissehn’s wardrobe. “I should have expected it but I’m really amazed at all this. You must have an outfit for every occasion.” The boy of the Emberglades pulled the tunic over his head, checked if it fit but tugging on the shoulder edges.

Then, as his friend pulled himself out the window, Stenden smiled inwardly and followed him out. “So do you know where we’re going?” He asked as he pulled himself onto the tiles after Vissehn.

“It’s all part of bein’ a spy, a soldier AND the best damn singer in Eversong.” He grinned as his friend caught up, footing sure on this part of the roof. He’d explored it the first day he’d arrived-- he knew its cracks and shifts better than he knew the path to the front door. “I have to look the part!”

Unsaid was that he’d grown up in the same tunic for a decade, rehemmed and patched until almost nothing remained of the original fabric. When he got his first payment from the Sunguard, he’d been so stunned that the cheque had nearly been caught by a breeze. When the gold was in his hands, he’d spent it all on nothing-- pastries he’d never eaten, amusement and novelties, clothing. His innate vanity had overcome him and he’d been so pleased with the purchases.

It took him longer to realize how he was going to earn the coin; now he kept it out of vanity but the gilt had flaked from the lily. 

When their boots hit the cobbles, Vissehn jerked his chin towards the common parts of the expanse. “There’s a spot what I was told about by the cook, I think-- no one will much care who you are so long as you aren’t an Emberheart, so we’ll just have to pass you off as a bastard if someone gets too nosey.” He flicks Stenden’s nose as they walk, his arm finding its way around the young lord’s shoulders once more.

“A bastard huh?” Stenden folded his arms as they made their way down the cobbled streets towards the nearby township. “Shall we pick an emergency name? Reddy Redwheat?” He gives Vissehn a grin and a terrible, terrible suggestion that he thought- for whatever reason- was a good one.

“Oh, and should I put on an accent as well? I doubt I speak like a peasant.” Stenden cleared his throat to attempt a voice, but realized he had no idea what they sounded like. It humbled him somewhat, and his smile faded into thoughtfulness. “Why are we really going to the tavern Viss?”

Vissehn laughed at the assumed name. “Just say yer name is…” He tapped a finger to his chin. “Ah! Say yer Alya.” He snickered. “Her get won’t be round here, the Bears aren’t fond of anyplace without trolls.” he let the words hang enigmatically, still drawing on Stenden’s arm.

“We’re gonna get piss drunk.” His response was easy. “I’m gonna learn you a bit, after the next fight, but I want you to remember how good it is to drink somewhere where noone cares who yer father or mother are, where yer just another nameless cock amongst the roost. Yer accents fine, plenty of lads from the south get good educations, an’ tonight, yer my friend from the south!” He clapped Stenden’s back.

“Alya,” he raised an eyebrow at his friend. “A girl's name?” He brushes off the engenderment, it didn’t matter too much to him compared to other boys his age. Likely a side-effect of growing up around Dawnveil girls who were valued no less than the boys were.

The smile returns to his face when he gets clapped on the back. “Well no worries then, it even sounds like a spot of fun!” An anxiety spread up from the pits of his stomach but he ignored it. It was likely the first time he’d be regarded without his title hanging above his head. Would people hate him, not knowing who he was? Would he truly be just like everyone else? Only time would tell.

“Alya is a boy’s name where I’m from! Right up there with Ilya, Ivan an’ Ares.” He repeated his cousins names by rote. It was strange; he hadn’t seen them in most of his life, but he remembered their names and their faces and how they’d died. “Now, Alyashun, that’s a Matriarch’s name, an’ so I gave you the name of one of her sons. He’s got red hair an’ long ears cause she got him with a nobleman.” His brows wriggled. “Some of the southern lords got Deals with the Mama’s of the clans.”

It didn’t take long, even on foot, to reach the bar. It was less a tavern than most-- meant to service the soldiers passing through and not the locals. So, when Stenden and Vissehn entered, nobody looked up from their tables or glasses. It was all loud voices and laughter-- they were winning, afterall. The atmosphere was light without being riotous, and it seemed the perfect place for a pair of young roustabouts to get a drink.

Vissehn guides them towards the bar itself, and one of the bartenders behind the wood calls out above the din. “What’ll it be?”

“Two of whatevers cheap, my friend!” He slaps his silver down, turning to listen to the motley men and woman having their grand times. The conversations are as expected; the front, the pay, what came next. However, a small group of men next to the pair of youths were speaking of other things-- the camp followers, and their lovers back home.

Stenden listens in on the men. Though most of their conversation continues about lust and desire there are subtle and occasional reaffirmations of fidelity. So despite Mereded’s best efforts to forge perfect soldiers from his people: Drilling children into trained men and women, praising a warrior ethos that found value in being expendable. The people continued to live, continued to love, and outside the laws they lived under- life continued as normal. It made him wonder if he had it in him to change things. Because if this was proof that was all a tyrant like his grandfather could do, what chance did he have?

But he pushes that away as two mugs of the cheapest ale slide across the table to them. “Victory is on everyone’s lips- Victory and what to do with it,” Stenden says with a smile. From Solendis’ propaganda papers that were being published out of a converted farmstead, winning was only a matter of time now.

They outnumbered their enemies three to one. Between House Swiftquiver’s new orders against a new enemy, and Amnesty Offers forging new companies of men. All they needed to do was march up to the last stand of Westheath at the Illithian fortress-home. But of course, the papers did not speak of the sheer disorganization of it all. Army units were spread throughout the Emberglades, some marching towards Kearn, others assisting with law and order in Shalemarch. Worse still, it did not mention that it could be over- Right now- if the Illithians that remained weren’t prepared to fight to the death.

The boy listened to the men nearby them for a moment longer before asking his friend a question. “No one special, no camp followers that struck your fancy or girls where you’re from?” Stenden did not know of course, of his friend’s people. Only that they were different.

“Well, the best of the Sunguard, this war weren’t gonna last long.” He takes a glug of the ale and his brows shoot up. “Cor, even yer piss ale is better out here. I don’t regret slowin’ myself down here for a space.” His gaze slides over the room, but it keeps latching onto the youth next to him. The warm glow of the candlelight seemed to make him older, show the man he would become.

These men and women would serve Stenden; they would live their lives in service, but at least they lived. It was a comfort, that the nature of living never changed. If there were no lords tomorrow, if the whole system was gone, people would still drink. They would still laugh, and fuck, and cry and die. No matter what, people could thrive. If he could, he’d make it easier on them-- use his place and words to pave a path forwards for the people.

No one should have to starve; no one should fight for their right to live. He’d born it, but he remembered the whispered truths from his mothers lips. He knew the promise of the Tel’dorei.

Freedom.

The question startles him out of the reverie, and he looks to Stenden with a half choked laugh. “Me?!” He snorted and shook his head. “Ha! I’m not th’kind to take a long shine. A pretty girl-- or handsome lad-- for a summer’s hour, lips locked with mine and hands a-wandering-- that’s certainly a pleasant waste of time. But I got too many places to rove for more’n that.” He chuckles. “A tumble, sweet parting words, that’s all it’s gotta be for a lad like me.”

The lies flow easily. It’s not hard; it’s not as if the relationships between individuals were kept from him. He knows the mechanics of intimacy-- has given others pleasure. But the charm he summons is as much armor as it is invitation, and when he leaves he knows his paramores sing his praises without knowing the secret of his frame.

“They got a pretty Lady on the line for ye? Kissed an’ cuddled a gal from the Dawnveil’s lands?” He adds, willing to court danger for awhile with the conversation. He leans forward, so their noses nearly brush. “Don’t tell me my friend hasn’t had such a pleasant diversion.” His words come out low, teasing, those pretty blue eyes lidded with mischief. 

Stenden takes a big swig of ale before continuing, hoping to dull the heavier thoughts that seemed to be dampening the evening. “Of course I’ve had… Pleasant diversions,” he paused and stressed the last words taken from his friend. “There’s a girl from Dawnveil, niece of one of the maidservants who was staying with the Dawnbrooks for the summer- Least, what passes for summers on the Isle.” A blush seems to rise on the boy’s cheeks. It was nothing serious of course, just a kiss and bit of clumsy exploration before their time was interrupted by a dinner bell. But the thoughts still fired up something within him when he thought of it.

“Sheri,” he said wistfully. “But she isn’t on the line no- Lowborn- and all that,” Stenden waved his hand as if chasing something off in mock annoyance. “In either case, I didn't see her the following year, or this one. So I doubt anything will come of it: To my father’s relief if he ever knew about it.”

Then as the ale started to sink in he narrowed his eyes at his friend, “or handsome lads?” That seemed to resound in his memory.

Vissehn snorts. “Yer father likely had somethin’ to do with her not bein’ there the followin’ year, friend.” He shakes his head, the memory of his conversation with the steward not one he would forget, despite the liquor and attempts to drown out the derision and disdain the man had for the people he considered his lessers. “But that’s a start, my friend!” He pats Stenden’s shoulder, in the way the wise do for the uninitiated; congratulatory and yet condescending.

He does not let his thoughts linger on how ephemeral Stenden’s attentions are; his own are flighty as well, save that he sees the common and the noble with the same lack of permanence. 

When his friends eyes narrow, Vissehn giggles wickedly. “C’mon now, you have a good education an’ spent time wiv the Dawnbrooks. You can’t be so sheltered as all that!” He leans in, the ale thick in his breath, and drags a finger under Stenden’s chin-- from throat to the very tip, where he catches the boy quick, thumb at the point of his face. 

“I’ve kissed the Jessamine of th’ Rosewinds an’ made her flush so prettily ye could say I placed the flowers in her cheeks; I courted th’lord of Voidsunder so well he gave me a blade fit for a king... all for the price of my lips.” He runs his tongue over those selfsame lips, slow and deliberate. “Had plenty of pretty lordlings an’ handsome lasses. May be a Fish outa water, but they know me by my honeyed tongue, and aren’t liable to forget what I can do with it, either.” His grin widens and he lets a brow rise, conspiratorial and mocking all at once.

Stenden turns red, half from the alcohol, and half from the embarrassment before pulling away from Vissehn’s hand. “I know! I’m not sheltered it’s just that-” he leaned back and gestured at his friend from head to toe. “You’re Vissehn! I wouldn’t have figured-” the boy quickly went back to his drink to shut himself up. His friend was a man’s man. Loud, boisterous, boastful. But he supposed he was pretty enough to draw the turn the heads of many-a-Lord.

Then, after a moment of alcohol mired thought, he gave Vissehn a look. “Were these courting of the Lords and Ladies intentional or incidental?” He asked a not so subtle loaded question.

Vissehn’s laugh is uproarious, and he grips the bar to catch himself from falling off his seat. “Cor, the look on you!” He slaps the counter and takes a long drink, finishing his flagon. Dropping more silver, he chuckles even after the moment of pure, chaotic mirth is spent. “Ahhh… I forget how young you are sometimes, friend!” He reaches up to ruffle Stenden’s hair. “Hoo. I should be kinder,” though his tone is not promising.

At the pointed question, Vissehn snorts, eyes flicking from Stenden to the barkeep who was pouring him more. “People get drawn in by someone who smiles and has a good time. Half th’time I just grin an’ giggle and they line themselves up neat like-- common an’ not.” He pauses. “I tell you this; I’ve taken a gift or so for my charm, but I’m no whore.” He says it without rancor or shame. “I don’t seek coin, or power, or nothin’. I’d be a mighty fool of a strumpet if’n I turned down your offer back when you asked if I’d join on.” He lifted his brow meaningfully. 

When the mug was filled, Vissehn nodded to the man behind the counter; he knew the kind, and he knew that the fellow was not a fool. Stenden would be known here, for all Vissehn’s posturing, and that he had come to drink-- and not cause trouble-- would be known as well. What happened with the information, well… he knew an ear or three to whisper in. He’d make this a good thing for the boy-lord, and not one for ill.

Solendis might think making a man of an idea made it lose value; Vissehn knew better. Heroes were made from people, lifted high. You weren’t born a god; the best heroes had a little of the godliness in the blood, and fought-- bled-- wept for the rest. 

He shrugged then. “When I was just a sprout, I was popular with my set. Got myself good at talking, and listening, and it did me well. When I joined up with the Sunguard, well-- the good folks there were more noble than not. Myself, Captain Sunshard, The Oracle… who else.” He taps his chin. “Dawnstalker, yeah. He’s common. Highdawn is akin to it. You see how hard it is to name even two hands worth of commborn?” He lifted his newly filled mug for a drink, and then clinked it against Stenden’s. “I’m a simple man; I like diversions. New things, fun things, fun people. I’ll make friends with those around me, easy, and if they want more, well-- if they’re interesting, I don’t see the harm.”

Stenden got a refill for himself as he listened to his friend. “Power flows upwards,” he made the shape of a pyramid with his hands. “Peasants & commonfolk to landowners & merchants, landowners & merchants to their barons, barons to dukes, then dukes to the king- Well Lord Regent in our case.” The boy tried to explain what he knew of the system he was in. 

“Commonfolk are good folks, but in the places that make the world, they rarely have the power to stand the others.” He gave a thoughtful pause. “The Glades, we value merit as much as we do birthright. Take Lady Swiftquiver or Lord Tar’saren for instance. Raised to their stations from action- Not whose loins they sprung forth from!”

The boy had forgotten his cover, and began speaking all Lord-like. Not drawing that much attention in the lively tavern but enough for the man behind the counter and some nearby to really take notice. But to Vissehn’s relief, they liked what they heard and made no mention of it.

“I don’t give a lick about power.” Vissehn offered back with a laugh. “I’ve been poor as they come an’ I’ve lead troops, all the same, and power is just another thing they try’n sell ye. I’d rather be fightin’ on my own. Now, I’ll take it-- when needs must, or when it suits-- but that’s not for me.” He waves a hand, noting that the shift in conversation is far easier for his friend to stomach. Well, that was fair-- he was a sheltered lad, and hadn’t lived the kind of life Vissehn had. And well. Vissehn was luckier than his aunties and girl-cousins; he’d at least had the veneer of protection, and choice with his pursuits, brief and limited as they were. He’d never been faced with the ultimatums or the pressure. He’d been a boy long enough for it to benefit him.

“I got a passel of thoughts on things here but this ain’t my home, so I’m gonna listen more than I talk.” He shrugs. “All I know is, pretty face an’ a way with words-- that gets me in a lot of doors. Noble, merchant, common-- we all wanna feel special an’ get that attention from someone who seems interested. When that don’t work, Hawkin’ mail, or th’Sunguard sign would do the rest. Now, I’ma have to find me other sure ways of finding mischief.” He wiggled both his brows. 

The boy nods, it was never about power for Vissehn. Stenden remembered their first meeting, how he had casually turned down his offer for power. As meager as something as a cottage and a small stint of land. But perhaps, he thought, it was more about freedom than any particular distaste for power.

He chuckles and raises his mug for his friend, “to mischief then!” Stenden cheers and slips deeper into inhibition. But through his ale muddled thoughts he finds a thread that he picked up earlier but discarded at the time. His smile mellows somewhat as he stares into his mug. “Speaking of mischief- What did you mean my father had something to do with her not being there? Sheri, I mean.”

The pair raise their glasses in the call for mischief, and it's as good an oath as Vissehn has ever given. He drains the flagon again, the quality of the ale just beginning to affect him. Everything has a gloss to it that he associates with the edge of inebriation, and it's a pleasant one-- with pleasant company to boot, even if Stenden is just a lad with more nobility than sense. 

The other youth snorts as he puts down the empty mug. "Yee father got some notions about how you ought to spending your time. Which include less of me altogether." He twirls a finger in the air dismissively. "Not the first fucker to tell me I'm a bad influence, first one to say it was cause he'd set his--" Vissehn cuts off, and scowls. "Well, he had his ideas and I got mine. I got the feeling though weren't the first time he's warned someone off of ye, he had the words ready to cut to the quick; we're all just lucky I'm a bastard with no honor to protect from, yeah?" He rubs at the back of his neck. "If he got wind of somethin as sordid as a lordling pawing at a servants girl, well. Seems he's the type to tuck that away and get it gone afore anyone else is the wiser. Hope he just sent her and her auntie packin, an' no worse."

Emotions churn through him, they cut, wash away, and swirl. Like a storm on the alabester wall that was Stenden. He did not know what to do with any of it. "I had my suspicions," his voice hardens, swinging away from the mirth it held just moments ago. "And he must have said the same to you." He gestures for the barkeep to give him a refill.

"To protect me? Did he say what from? From you?"

"Fuck, Sten, I was piss drunk. I'm proud I didn't hit him in the jaw, cause I was that mad but I don't recall all he slung at me. Just that I'd be ruinin' yer future, and he was protectin' your credibility." He will not say he has a much better memory than he lets on; that Solendis knows he is Unwelcomed and Tel'dorei and a lower form of low than even the commoners at this bar, in these lands. Stenden can wring that from his father if he wishes; he can fight the power of his ancestry on his own, without the need to defend the honor of his friend who has none.

There is a quality to the hardness in Stenden that reminds Vissehn of the last days of Sederis rule as Lord in these lands, and it more than the reminder of his own fractured history that sobers the lad. Here was another who would not care to be controlled; sees his father's warning as protection, unnecessary for him, rather than protection of the way of life. He drops silver as a tip, and slings an arm around Stendens shoulders.

"Let's get th'fuck out of here, howl in the hills for a spell. Yer father can't rid you of me; yer the only one who can send my ass to pasture." He offers it consolingly, guiding Stenden to the door.

“Part of me wishes you punched him- But consequ- conse- That’d have been bad,” Stenden slurred minorly.

But as Vissehn slung his arm around his shoulder, the boy rises to his feet and gets guided to the door. “That’s good,” he says, “because I never will.” With one final gesture to the barkeep, he swallowed both his ale and his anger down in one go.

He did not say it, but there was a tension in his heart. Being treated like a houseplant. Put in a box as his father did the gatekeeping. With that information now in the open, he began to wonder how many friends he had lost. Or if that girl from Dawnveil actually did feel the same way he did for her- he had assumed she never came back because he hadn’t mattered that much to her. He had been Solendis’ offering to the Emberglades, except Solendis had never asked if he was willing or not- because the offering was finally beginning to think for himself. Like mother, like son.

-

Image by Jason Manley.

@retributionpriest​ @stormandozone​ @thanidiel​

[mysweetestcreature]

New Year’s Kisses

A/N: First writing piece of 2019!!! Hope you’ve had a lovely New Year’s celebration and are ready to kick ass in these upcoming months!

I want to thank all of you for such a wonderful year. I started this blog in March of 2018, and now here we are, first day of 2019 and I couldn’t be more thankful for each and every single one of you.

Hope you enjoy this little one-shot I put together as a New Year’s welcoming treat :D

***

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: smuuuut, and I’m a bit drunk right now so...¯\_(ツ)_/¯

***

As soon as he and a few of his mates had entered the club just a short thirty minutes ago, she had immediately caught his attention. It isn’t in that cliché way you would expect to see in basically every romantic comedy movie in the history of the first world cinema. No, it’s because she’s been there alone at her table wearing a form-fitting satin champagne two-piece dress with her hair curled just enough to give it a nice beachy wave that falls right below her shoulders. A tall drink sits in front of her, the straw being twirled elegantly with her pointer finger as she studies everyone around her until she takes the end between her pouty lips every now and again. 

There’s this way she looks at someone through her long lashes, it’s as if they’re the most fascinating person in the room that had sparked Harry’s interest in the unnamed girl, which now leads him to wonder if she’s found him of any interest at all. 

“Just go over there already,” Mitch tells him, nudging his elbow into Harry’s side as to give him a little push. “If you stand here any longer, you’ll start to look a bit sketchy.”

Harry sighs, pinching the neck of his beer bottle between his fingers and taking a long swig from it until the last drop falls onto his tongue. He lets out a soundless burp as he flickers his eyes from the girl to his friend. “A bit forward, don’t you think?”

Mitch snorts into his drink. “Well, it’s New Year’s Eve. So, in my humble opinion, if you’re going to get rejected by a girl, might as well be a few hours before you can leave it all in 2018.”

“Mitch’s right, mate,” Adam adds. “Might as well.”

Harry pops the cap off another bottle and breathes out heavily before he allows his feet to navigate him through the sea of sweaty bodies all moving to the rhythm of some gaudy pop song that’s lyrics are absolutely undecipherable to his ears. 

She doesn’t look at him when he stands next to the empty spot beside her, but he can see a smirk form on her lips as she continues to stare forward.

“You see that man over there?” she asks, and Harry has to look right and left before realizing she’s talking to him. “Looks about twenty-nine, dirty blonde, navy blue slim-fit, two from the left.” She nods her head in the direction of man sitting alone at the bar.

“What about him?” he returns the question.

The girl finally turns her head to face him, and he’s immediately taken with the intense shade of her irises. She laughs lightly, the gentlest sound surpassing her lips. “He’s been sitting there all night drowning himself in...bourbon, maybe whiskey.” she pauses briefly and curls her mouth to the side. “Do you see the way he keeps fumbling with his hand?”

Harry squints his eyes and sees how the man taps his fingers without pattern or rhythm along the countertop.

“It’s his left hand, so I’d say he’s recently divorced and trying to get back in the dating game, but he’s hopelessly failing because he’s guilty about moving on so soon. You can tell by the way looks down at his hand and thumbs over where the wedding band used to be.” The way she talks, it’s as if she’s confident in this man’s history, almost as though she had read the story of his life in a book of some sort. “He’s also been checking his phone every few minutes debating whether he should call her, but of course he’s scared and he’s a man so...” She orients her body to completely face Harry, her eyes scanning him up and down for the first time. “Y/n,” she smiles at extending her hand to him.

He reaches forward and grasps it in his, squeezing it firmly as he shakes it. “Harry,” he replies. “Are you a...”

Y/n shakes her head and lifts her glass until the straw is just centimeters away from her lips. “Sociologist, yeah. Doing a field study on club culture.”  

Makes sense, Harry muses to himself. He looks around, looking for a target for Y/n to dissect. “3 o’clock, red dress,” he says, leaning in closer for her to hear. Y/n smirks at him and doesn’t even flicker a gaze at the girl as she flips her hair back behind her shoulder. 

“Came here with a friend, probably against her will. She’s the type who would rather be at home and watching fireworks on the telly.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at her. “How do you reckon that one out?”  

“For one, her friend––Miss Hot Pink Heels over on the dance floor––abandoned her as soon as they found a table, which really is the bitchiest thing to do, don’t you think?” she says in a pitiful tone and shakes her head disapprovingly. “And she’s obviously uncomfortable given the circumstance.” 

“Well, she’s a homebody, yeah? Can’t picture anyone like that wanting to be here.” Harry inserts his thoughts.

“Yes, but there’s more to it,” Y/n tells him, and he can tell by the cadence of her sentence that she has more to say on the matter. “Her eyes haven’t left her friend since she was whisked away by that Argentinian lad with the voluminous hair. It took me a while to figure her out actually, she was bit tricky to read at first, but I think I narrowed it down.” Harry turns to her, waiting for more details and nodding for her to continue. “She’s in love with her. I realized it when Mr. Flow-y Locks left her on the dance floor to get them a few drinks, and Pink Heels started grinding with the woman with the 800cc implants. It’s really only a matter of time until she’s had enough.” Y/n barely glances over her shoulder as she gives the woman a side glance. “3...2...1.” Harry eyes widen as the woman in the red dress stuffs her phone back in her purse and makes her way through the crowds of people and stalks towards the exit.

“Impressive,” he admits, raising his beer bottle to her. 

Y/n giggles softy. “It’s my job,” she quirks and lets out an airy sigh. “It’s New Year’s Eve, which is arguably the second most romanticized holiday of the year. Think of it as a single’s Valentine’s Day.” Another giggle passes through her lips and she closes her eyes and tilts her head back as though to immerse herself in the environment. He can’t help but stare at the even rise and fall of her chest as she soaks everything in. Letting out a wistful sigh, she turns back to Harry. “Everyone knows that bars and clubs are the best places to find an easy hookup or someone just as lonely as the next. You know, how everyone just lingers around each other trying to pick out someone they can snag a kiss from when the clock strikes midnight, and hey,” she shrugs, and points to two people leaving through the backdoor exit and leans back on her elbows. “Who cares? It’s the last day of the year, so you might as well welcome 2019 on a high note.”

Harry stares at her, completely enthralled by the detail of each of her statements. He’s known her for about what? Less than an hour? Yet he already feels himself succumbing to the knowledge and wittiness that she undeniably exudes. “You’re really something else.”

“Is that it?” Y/n gasps, raising a half-amused eyebrow. “Is that your line?”

“What? No!” Harry’s eyes grow wide and he stutters on his words before capping his mouth with the nozzle of his bottle. “I don’t even think I have a line.”

“All guys have lines, Harry,” she giggles. “You’re a good-looking guy, and I’m sure you’ve been made aware of the fact.” She runs a hand down the front of his half-unbuttoned shirt. “But as society functions, all guys have some kind of pickup line that they use, whether it’s intentional or not, that they hope will charm a pretty girl into bed with them.”

Harry snorts, placing the bottle back on the table and daring to take a step towards her. “Alright then, have a go at me” he says, almost tauntingly.

“You sure you could handle it?” she teases, taking the back of her knuckle and following his pointed his jawline. 

“Only one way to find out.” He places a hand on her hip and traces it up and down. He tilts his head to the side and waits for her to guess details of his life just as she had done moments before. “Have at it,” he says in an almost whisper.

Y/n bites down on her bottom lip and studies him, then leans back, using his broad shoulders to support her. Harry can’t fight back the tug of the upper corner of his mouth as she glosses her eyes over him. “You came here with two other guys who haven’t stopped looking at us since you made your way over here to talk to me. You’re confident, but not arrogant, and it shows by the way you didn’t just waltz over here like you were sure I’d just melt into your arms with one look into your ridiculously green eyes.” Harry lets out a loud laugh at this, Y/n continues. “As I mentioned earlier, it’s New Year’s Eve and you’re here looking for someone to kiss tonight––but not just some random. No, I think you’re the type of person to want to find a connection with someone because you’re not just looking for sex.” She locks her fingers behind his neck and brings her body flush against his. “Are you, Harry?” she whispers in his ear. “What do you want?”

***

Before she can even acquaint herself to the image of his flat, he pushes her up against the door, his mouth attacking the exposed skin on her neck with rough nips of his teeth and glossing over each abused part with his tongue. She cranes her neck, allowing him more access as her hands roam down his chest and find themselves caressing the ink on his heated skin with the chilled ends of her fingertips.

“This,” he breathes out, connecting his lips to the side of her mouth. “I want this.” He says again and kisses the same spot twice more before allowing his lips to linger above hers, looking down at her through hooded eyes. Their breaths mingle with one another while their hands roam over the other’s clothed bodies as though studying each feature in great detail. Her mouth is parted as she pants in anticipation for his next move. She looks up to him, her eyes glossed over and dazed as her tongue just barely sticks out between her lips. Before she can do anything else, he crashes his lips down onto hers, the tip of her tongue being sucked into his threshold to dance with his own. She pulls him by the collar, wanting to feel every inch of him as close to her as possible.

She holds back a moan as he hitches up her skirt. His hand disappears underneath the hem and glides over the smooth skin of her thigh. His movements pause as soon as he reaches the outside of her panties. He smiles into the kiss as his fingers graze over the damp fabric. He pulls back from her lips, his forehead leaning against hers as he chuckles softly while he stares down in awe below them. “You’re dripping for me, baby,” he husks, lips tickling her ear as his fingers pull her panties to the side. “And I’ve barely touched you.” One of his long digits wipe along her slick folds, collecting her juices as he continues to whisper in her ear. “Want it as much as I do. Gonna let me stuff you full with me, won’t you?” Y/n nods eagerly nods her head, cupping his face with her palms and connecting her lips to his as she grinds her throbbing clit against his large hand. 

“Are you gonna make me beg, Harry?” she says as his tongue enters her mouth and licks all over the inside. “Didn’t think you were the type.” Her voice remains steady despite the rush of desire that floods her veins and sends shocks to every nerve in her body. She drops her hands from her body and reaches behind her to undo the zip of her skirt and letting the material fall between them and down around her feet. 

Harry doesn’t respond, instead continues to suck on her bottom lip as he bends down to grasp the back of her knees, encouraging her to jump into his arms and straddle his waist. He carries her into his bedroom and lays her flat on the bed. He lays in between her legs, spreading them further apart as he kisses up the length of her smooth silky skin. His nose pokes into her inner thigh and lightly calloused fingers trail right behind him, hooking at the hem of her panties and pulls them all the way down and discards them off to the side.

“How much do you want it?” he muses, his tongue pushing past her folds and taking a long lick. He looks up to her, moaning onto her button when he sees her staring back at him, her lip caught under her teeth, her knuckles turning white as she clutches onto his wholesome white sheets. 

Her back arches up when his fingers enter her hole, but he sets his other hand flat on her lower stomach to keep her back flat on the mattress. “Harry,” she purrs, lifting her hips to the best of her abilities as she rubs her aching pussy further into him. He sucks fervently on her clit as another finger enters her, soon followed by a third. He thrusts in and out of her quickly, the sounds of her wetness filling both their ears and sending their minds through a whirlwind of feeling as they completely cave in and shred whatever bit of inhibition they may have had left. “You like giving my pussy attention, baby?” she asks in a shaky voice. He hums on her button, the vibrations of his mouth sending jolts all the way down to her toes. “Does it taste good?”

“Mmhm,” he mumbles, all of his attention being focused on how absolutely delectable she tastes on his taste buds. “So fucking good, so sweet,” he adds when he pulls away and blows on her sensitive mound. “Can’t wait to stuff you full with my cock.” 

Harry removes himself from her, sitting back on his knees and working the buckle of his belt and shoving his pants and boxers down over his ass. He falls on his back right by her side. She hikes a leg over his middle and tears the rest of his attire off of him. His cock, all red at the tip and leaking warm bubbles of precum down the sides is enough to make her mouth water. “You’re so big,” it’s barely audible as it leaves her mouth, but it’s able to reach his ears. He crosses his arms behind his head and admires the way she gently strokes her hand over the length of him. She bends down, unable to stop herself from taking one of the delicious dribbles on her tongue and to feel it settle all the way down into her tummy. 

He moans when she takes as much of him as she can into her warm and inviting mouth, and he shuts his eyes tight when he feels himself hit the back of her throat. She bobs her head around him, breathing in through her nose as her eyes water from having him so far in her. Her cheeks hallow as she sucks him further. He gathers her hair in his hands, fists tightening as he leads her up and down his cock, willing himself not to send the entirety of himself down her tight throat and just cum right then and there. Her hand massages the back of his thigh, rubbing on the coarse hairs as she flicks his tip with her tongue. 

He counts to five in his head before pulling on her hair, and she releases him with a sound pop. He pulls her face towards him and kisses her lips all plump and pink, and he can even taste a bit his saltiness on her. “You like having me in your mouth, love?” They exchange heated kisses between the two of them. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you? Had to pull you off my cock before I gave you my treat,” he tuts his tongue then rolls them over. He pushes her knees back to her chest, her pussy lips spread perfectly for him and arousal glistening in the moonlight peering through the crack in the bedroom curtains. “Look at you, darling, so fucking ready for me.” 

“Then do it already,” she challenges. He shoots her a smirk and pushes into her without a second thought. She sucks in a breath as her walls accommodate to the size of him as he bottoms out, his balls slapping to the curve of her ass as he freezes on top of her. 

He curses under his breath. “Christ,” he all but gasps, urging himself to pull out of her just enough for the tip to linger at her entrance. “Such a tight little thing,” he says, but it’s more to himself as he slams back into her delicious heat.

“Fuck, you feel so good inside me,” she whines, her hands cupping her breasts and pinching and twisting at her nipples as she enjoys the feeling of him pounding into her in a fast rhythm. Harry throws his head back as his hips buck into her. The headboard of his bed thumping against the wall with each powerful thrust, only to be drowned out by the New Year’s countdown from his upstairs neighbors. 

31...

30...

29...

His movements become more erratic as the final seconds of the year come dwindling down to a finish. He shifts lower, their chests pressing up together and he stares at how her mouth forms in an O-shape, as he feels her orgasm fast approaching by the way her walls flutter around him and make almost impossible for him to move. “Cum for me, darling.” He leaves sloppy kisses along her jaw as he slithers his hand down to rub furious circles on her clit to edge her closer to fulfillment. “Give it to me,” he barks, sinking his teeth back on her pulse as he plunges into her cavern in harsh strokes that have her crying out his name in between uncontainable moans.  “You’re right there, baby. Just let go.” 

15...

14...

13...

Her toes curl into the sheets and arms wrap around his broad shoulders as she reaches the brink of ecstasy. “I’m gonna-” her voice getting higher and unable to complete her train of thought as she shudders beneath him, and brings his lips back to hers in an open-mouth kiss. She peels her lids open and watches fondly as Harry continues to thrust into her in long deep strokes, with his eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

4...

3...

2...

With one last powerful thrust, he pulls himself out of her pussy, jerking himself only once with his fist before he spills his release all over her stomach and heaving chest. She stares down at herself in amazement, the white ribbons of cum intricately swirled all over her sweaty skin. She traces her finger along one of the thick lines, then pushes it past her lips, humming in satisfaction as she swallows. Harry drops down to his elbows, laying back on top of her and lazily connecting their mouths. 

1.

[iamalivenow]

Martin: Hey don't mean to impose, could you pick up the creamer for the break room?

Tim: isn't this something that's supposed to be provided?

Martin: Oh- There's creamer- It's just. Very bad.

Tim: that cheap french vanilla shit?

Martin: Mmhm.

Tim: yeah sure.

Tim: wait, do you even drink coffee?

Martin: Well, no. But Sasha does. And Jon sometimes.

Tim: oh thank god.

Martin: What?

Tim: you went five minutes with out mentioning the boss.

Tim: i was sure prentiss got you again.

Martin: Oh fuck off Tim.

Tim: :p

------

🌩: Oh my god. Stop.

🍃: too good for Hand Written Invitations are we?

🌩: You send me one once a week. It's lost the pizzaz. It's lost the flavor.

🍃: you say this as if I have other people to go sky diving with

🌩: Of course you do! Everyone! Everyone is into free skydiving! Just don't bother asking first!

🍃: it's not the same with them

🍃: they just don't Get It

🌩: Oh my god.

🍃: you can even invite that cute Dead boy

🌩: Oh My God.

🍃: don't feel like you have to pretend for me

🌩: Stop. I'm begging you to stop.

🍃: all i'm saying is i Posed Nude for a lot of painters during the golden years

🌩: No one calls it that. Stop telling me about your childhood flings with Italians.

🍃: some of them were German.

🍃: and Flemish.

🍃: and there was this one Dutch boy.

🌩: Wait.

🍃: sure a bit Spiral for my taste but there's really nothing wrong with that either

🌩: Wait.

🍃: oh, Spiral's a sore spot for you huh

🍃: memory does Go first

🍃: something to look Forward too

🍃: well ignore that I Suppose but really, cross fear is totally acceptable.

🌩: You're exhausting.

🍃: i'm sure some people would argue but everyone does it Eventually

🍃: look at Peter Lukas.

🌩: They divorced like ten times.

🍃: but he keeps coming back to him, Doesn't He?

-------

Sasha: I might be a little late today.

Jonathan Sims: Don't worry about it.

Sasha: Cheers.

-------

👧: ლ(●ↀωↀ●)ლ so excited so excited so excited

🐛: HHHAAAHHHAAAHHHAAA WWWHHHYYY

🧒🏻: (ٛ⁎꒪̕ॢ ˙̫ ꒪ٛ̕ॢ⁎) why they say!!!

🐛: OOOHHH TTTHHHEEE RRRIIITTTUUUAAALLL

🧒🏾: (☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞ i'm so excited i can barely stand it!!!

🐛: BBBUUUTTT IIITTTSSS NNNOOOTTT EEEVVVEEENNN YYYOOOUUURRRSSS

👦🏾: i know!!! that's what makes it stressful. but if you need ANYTHING ᕕ༼✿•̀︿•́༽ᕗ

🐛: HHHAAAHHHAAA IIILLL AAASSSKKK YYYOOOUUU FFFIIIRRRSSSTTT

👧🏼: ♪～(◔◡◔ิ)人(╹◡╹๑)～♪

🐛: WWWHHHIIICCCHHH OOONNNEEE IIISSS MMMEEE

👦🏿: the cute one ♫ ┌༼ຈل͜ຈ༽┘ ♪

-------

Jonathan Sims: Hey.

🌀: hEy

Jonathan Sims: Are you-

Jonathan Sims: [Is Typing]

Jonathan Sims: You know what. Never mind. I was going to ask you something stupid. It doesn't matter.

🌀: lMaO sUrE

-------

🍃: anyway, Enough about me

🍃: invite the cute Dead boy

🍃: it's so Romantic

🍃: the view Alone

🌩: Okay, first of all, we're just friends. Second of all, even if we weren't, I don't need dating tips from you.

🍃: Debatable.

🌩: Third of all. Even if I was gay, and even if Oliver was interested, and even if I asked him out on a date.

🍃: phenomenal hypotheticals lad.

🌩: What on Earth makes you think I'd invite you along?

🍃: hmm.

🍃: if i was a Lesser man, i would say something like

🍃: how dare You

🍃: my Own son

🌩: We're not related.

🍃: but! instead!

🍃: i can just point out the Space station i own

🍃: and call it a Day

-------

Jonathan Sims: Elias, call an exterminator. This is getting ridiculous.

Elias Bouchard: Jon, don't be ridiculous. You want to involve more humans with Prentiss' worms?

Jonathan Sims: I'm not even talking about the worms, which I would argue proves my point beyond all reason.

Elias Bouchard: What are you talking about then?

Jonathan Sims: I had to kill three spiders today Elias. Three.

Elias Bouchard: Yes, you're very brave Jon. I'm very proud.

Jonathan Sims: Are you in your office?

Elias Bouchard: No where else in the world I'd rather be, Jon.

-------

🕸️: hey oli

🕸️: no hard feelings right?

🕸️: we're still buds?

🕸️: still friends?

🕸️: still tight?

⚰️: Was that a pun

🕸️: it's not fun if you point it out kid

🕸️: keep up

🕸️: anyway listen, friend

🕸️: buddy

🕸️: pal

⚰️: What do i have to do to make this stop

🕸️: lmao thats the spirit

🕸️: could you be a doll and swing by the watcher's place?

⚰️: I'm not even in London

🕸️: so cute, i swear

🕸️: yeah you are.

🕸️: turn around bff

⚰️: Is it poisonous?

🕸️: i want you to look at that question

🕸️: think about who you sent it to

⚰️: What do you want

🕸️: just bring a box of lovers over

⚰️: A box of what

🕸️: i picked some little buddies out special

🕸️: mated pairs

🕸️: to really make it last for like

🕸️: forever

🕸️: do you know how many eggs a cellar baby lays?

🕸️: like thirty

⚰️: You know you could higher literal delivery men right

🕸️: and if a box of lovers has like 100 of these bad boys

🕸️: you know my little dudes live pretty long?

⚰️: Fine

🕸️: fuck yeah

🕸️: you're so cool oli

⚰️: Delete my number

🕸️: already gone

-------

  : Are you concerned at all?

👁️: About what should I be concerned about? No please, tell me. God forbid there's a blind spot in my vision. Perish the thought.

  : So you're aware of the situation?

👁️: Go ahead, I'm listening.

  : ...I'm sure you're handling it.

👁️: Just like I handle everything else. By myself.

  : Where did this bad mood even come from?

👁️: Well this sanctimonious prick texted me.

  : You're allowed to pick your own Archivist.

👁️: If you were wondering what the divorce was about, it's this, we're here, we've arrived to the point.

  : I'm not trying to condescend to you.

👁️: Spoken like someone about to start condescending.

  : You're literally sitting on a nest, Elias.

👁️: Bold of you to assume I don't want it there.

-------

Tim: are you still mad?

Martin: ...No.

Tim: great uh, good.

Martin: I'm sorry for snapping.

Tim: no, it was a shitty joke. Sasha already told me off.

Martin: Oh thank god. I was sure Prentiss got you.

Tim: fair.

Martin: Apologizing on your own? Really had me worried.

Tim: alright alright, yes yes, get it out.

Martin: I already got it out.

Tim: you're better than all of us Martin.

-------

Sasha: Want to come over?

Tim: yeah sure.

Sasha: Bring some wine over, yeah?

Tim: long day?

Sasha: Oh, you wouldn't believe it.

Tim: try me.

Sasha: No, I mean, you literally wouldn't believe it.

Tim: really. try me. i'm down for anything.

Sasha: Yeah you are.

Tim: up top

Sasha: I'm already outside, Tim. I don't know how much higher you want me to get.

Tim: you have to come get me now actually i'm swooning too hard

Sasha: The things I do for casual work hookups.

-------

🐛: RRREEEAAADDDYYY???

👦: d(-_^)

🐛: CCCAAANNN YYYOOOUUU SSSEEEEEE IIITTT

🧒🏻: (๑´ڡ`๑三๑´ڡ`๑)

🐛: CCCUUUTTTEEE

👧🏻: i'm nothing if not (ฅ⁍̴̀◊⁍̴́)و ̑̑

🐛: JJJUUUSSSTTT WWWAAAIIITTTIIINNNGGG

🧑🏿: ʅ(｡Ő౪Ő｡)ʃ

🐛: :::)))

👰🏻: hey wait listen if you're just burning time...☆⌒ヽ(´ε｀ )

🐛: ???

👰: burn some time with me (((*☣ω☣(ε◕* )))

🐛: HHHAAAHHHAAA OOOKKKAAAYYY

👰🏿: ღ꒡ ᴈ꒡)♡⃛(꒡ε ꒡ღ

-------

Jonathan Sims: Stay away from any Michaels.

Martin: I don't think I know that many but I'll try my hardest too.

Jonathan Sims: Sasha had an experience earlier today.

Martin: Just one more thing to look out for.

Jonathan Sims: Stay safe tonight.

Martin: Will do. You too.

-------

Martin: [Screen Shot Sent]

Martin: Oh my god.

Tim: wow.

Tim: when's the wedding?

Sasha: Don't be a dick, Tim.

Tim: i'm being sincerely supportive of our coworker and his weird crush on the boss who lowest key hates him.

Tim: how am I being a dick?

Sasha: Tim.

Martin: I think that's the nicest thing he's ever said to me.

Tim: and you've even got it saved for posterity.

Sasha: Oh Martin.

-------

🍃: if you want to make it a double date, i've got Takers

🌩: I keep waiting for it to stop and it just doesn't.

🍃: you have to stay on “The Grind” as the kids Say

🌩: I can't believe I'm even entertaining this but who?

🍃: Peter's moping again.

🌩: No.

🍃: that's fine

🍃: didn't want to make out with him anyway

-------

⚰️: Done

🕸️: someone should promote you

⚰️: Can I ask why you call them that

🕸️: my chums?

⚰️: Yeah

🕸️: well

🕸️: The Mother spins her webs and her Children are all upon them

⚰️: and

🕸️: i guess

🕸️: in this analogy

🕸️: i'm a college drop out turned baby sitter

🕸️: just to make ends meet

🕸️: my life is so hard

🕸️: so trying

⚰️: So it's bitter

🕸️: huh?

🕸️: haven't you been paying attention oli?

🕸️: they're great kids

-------

🌀: yOu Up?

Jonathan Sims: Wholly and entirely against my will, but yes. Go ahead.

🌀: bOuGhT a FrIeNd A fIrE eXtInGuIsHeR. hE wAs De-LiGhTeD.

Jonathan Sims: [Is Typing]

Jonathan Sims: [Is Typing]

Jonathan Sims: [Is Typing]

Jonathan Sims: I don't know if I'm more mad about you kidnapping my employee or about that atrocity.

🌀: gotta love the hustle though

[greetthedawn]

AN:

Hey y’all! It took me longer than I expected to write this one, but I’m happy with what I came up with. Shout out to my old roomie who watched me do a full Black Flag playthrough so she could be my beta reader for this story. Luv u girl <3

A twist, a tale, a rip through my sail

And we’re made to watch the walls fall down

Cause goodbye’s too strong, too strong a word

When I’m weak from everything that I’m told

Yes, I’m weak from everything that I’m told

And I’m weak from all the things that I know

            The sun was setting over Havana’s port and color danced across the clouds like a tapestry in the wind. Edward was reclined against the stone wall that loomed over the gently rolling water in the port. He used the tankard in his hands to muffle his amusement while his beloved rebuked their crewmen for their spending habits. As predicted, most of the lot had blown their earnings on an assortment of funs and fancies before their second night in the city had begun. Unfortunately for them, this was not the day to come asking young Master Kidd for extra handouts.

           Mary somehow towered over a gunner no less than a head taller than she was, nearly chest to chest. Her arms were crossed, and she held her chin high. The poor lad she was grinding beneath her metaphorical boot hung his shoulders low and stared intently at anything that wasn’t his quartermaster’s unyielding, narrow-eyed glare. In one hand she held a shiny new knife that would look impressive to most. However, compared to the cutting glint of Venganza menacingly strapped to her hip, he thought it would appear better suited alongside a dinner plate.

           “Tell me, Powder Monkey Herraro,” she condescended. “You bet this strumpet… how much coin, that your cock was more threatening than you new knife?” She gave her wrist a wiggle for emphasis, letting the fading sunlight bounce off the polished blade in her hand.

           Herrero cleared his throat. “I bet half, sir.”

           “Half of what, Herrero?” Mary arched her scarred brow expectantly.

           “Half my wages, sir.” The man rolled his shoulders nervously. Edward could tell he was hoping to appeal to Kidd’s infamous moral scruples with his honesty. He wasn’t sure what her punishment for deception might be, as none had ever dared, but he or any sane man would be loath to find out.

           Mary inched closer to Herrero, peering up at him intently. “Let me finish your story for you, man. Jaysus knows I’ve heard it before. She took up your bet, you had a few more drinks, and when it came time to perform you lost your nerve.”

           Herrero swallowed – his pride, clearly – and nodded with great shame and embarrassment evident in his manner.

           Mary smirked and slapped the flat of the blade to the man’s chest. She stepped back and let him cautiously take it from her hands. “No world-wisened woman believes a boastful man. Those who can support their claims have no need to brag, and they have no need to flash shiny objects for a lady’s admiration. A knife like that says fresh gold. That’s blood in the water to a lady of pleasure, and a mark who’s too pickled to get it up makes for light work.” She turned and strode toward Kenway, leaving Herrero to face the raucous ridicule of his crewmates. “Sell the knife,” she called back as she walked away. “It’ll keep you fed til you prove to me you can handle the gold I give you.”

           Edward passed her the tankard in his hand as she joined him against the wall. “A tongue lashing like that ought to curb his misbehavior for a time.” He offered a toothy grin of pride. He knew few others who could make men of Herrero’s might wither like ferns before the sun. “You’ve always had a handle on these louts. You’ll be a natural parent, far more disposed to it than myself to be sure.” The warmth in his voice was curbed by a touch of selfish hesitancy.

           She rolled her eyes. “A better parent wouldn’t have lost her child to madmen and murderers.”

           “Are you insulting murderers?” He teased her with mock offense and a sly wink.

           “Oy, mind your step,” she warned with a raised brow, but he could see the warmth of humor in her eyes. “A better parent might not be a murderer, herself.”

           “Oh, on the contrary, I might argue it makes you more suited to parenthood. Refined protective instincts, ability to stand your ground…”

           She shook her head in mild amusement and raised the tankard to her lips, but he reached out to stop her with a light hand on the rim. “You’re not genuinely worried about your fitness for motherhood, are you?” he asked softly.

           She set down their drink on the wall between them. “Any sane man or woman would be. It’s unexplored territory and your aptitude decides an unfair amount of the course for a helpless child, not to mention anyone they ever get close enough to affect. Besides, my… professional affiliations won’t make for the safest upbringing. She’ll make me vulnerable, and that vulnerability puts her on the butcher’s block.”

           He squeezed her wrist, desperately wishing they were in private where he could do more to comfort her, but also knowing she likely didn’t need the reassurance. Moments of self-doubt were rare for her, though when they did happen they were fleeting. Her convictions were unshakable but she had to consider the possibility she might get it wrong, else how could she be sure she was right? “Don’t give a thought to her safety. There’s not a Brother among us who wouldn’t cut down a whole fleet themselves to protect your little girl. And Mary... you never need to worry about your fitness as a parent. You’ve raised me into a man of quality and character all on your own, have you not?”

She smiled at that, warming his heart in the process. “Not that you’ve made it easy, mate.”

           He grinned back cheekily. “What child would, in truth?”

           The corner of his vision sparked in that moment with the aura of a friendly face. Mary must have sensed it too because her head whipped around just as soon as Bell broke free from the mingling crowds of the port market. She tugged on the sleeve of his robes, pulling him after her as they went to greet their young friend.

           “What news?” Edward inquired with a terse urgency to his tone once they had drawn within earshot.

           Bell’s eyes landed on the pair through the throng of traders and he gave a relieved and eager sigh and he way his way over to them. “I did as you said, sirs, and scoped out Ignacio du Mont. He’s a man of modest means, though he seems to live more comfortably than one of his post in the shipping business ought to. All those in the neighborhood that I spoke to sang praises of his leadership in their community, but there seems little remarkable about him outside of those two points.”

           “And the house?” Mary pressed, her demeanor measured yet hopeful.

           “Aye, the address you gave is indeed the du Mont residence,” Bell confirmed. “It’s a grand thing, but aging and in need of some upkeep, and its staff seemed well-treated. Their quarters are on the ground floor, while du Mont resides above with his wife and small child.”

           Mary noticeably stiffened at Kenway’s side. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, checking her from appearing too personally invested in this piece of news in front of their crewman. “What can you tell us about this child?”

           Bell shrugged. “Not much. It’s a wee lad, less than a year of age by my eyes.”

           Mary relaxed under the captain’s fingers, a little disappointed, he guessed. He let his hand drop from her coat.

           “Anything else you can tell us?” Mary questioned, shifting her weight away from Edward inconspicuously.

           “Just this: there are many empty rooms in the house that appear to be equipped for children. When I asked after the family, I learned that they sometimes take in urchins off the street. They care for them, find a suitable couple for an adoption. It’s all quite… philanthropic, though the rooms seem to have been empty for a time.” He hesitated for a moment, somewhat unsure of himself. “If I may be so bold as to assume that your true intent is on one such urchin, I feel confident that du Mont will have some valuable information to help you on your way.”

           Edward bristled protectively, but Mary laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Aye, you may be so bold, but I’d ask that you make no further assumptions about this matter,” she confirmed. “It’s not your due to go digging in it just yet. Though I’d wager you’re right about du Mont. I expect he’ll prove a willing font of knowledge.” Her fingers graced the ruby pommel of her dagger lightly.

           Edward grinned at her, his tension turning to anticipation. “I do hope he won’t mind us two dropping in for a chat, then.” He reached into his coat and removed a rather sizable pouch of gold, which he pressed into Bell’s grateful hands. “For your family, as promised.”

           “That ought to pay for a physician and keep your family in food and home until your father is well enough to work again,” Mary added. “If his illness draws on, we’ll be glad to send more. You need only to ask.”

           Bell nodded with eyes wide at the wealth between his fingertips. The Assassins both knew he wasn’t the type of boy to waste a single coin on himself when it was needed elsewhere. It would all certainly make it back to his loved ones. “I thank you, sirs. My family won’t forget this kindness.”

           Mary clapped his shoulder. “Nor will we forget yours. You’ve done us a great service. Now off with you! You’ve a courier ship to catch.” She waved him away with a small smile of confidence on her lips. Edward knew she was pleased with herself for finding this one. It was only a matter of time before they welcomed him to the Brotherhood, he was sure of it.

           Bell nodded gratefully again and scurried off down the docks to find the fastest vessel with a course set for London. There was many a captain that would lie hand over foot to get his hands on that purse with false promises of delivery, but the young boy was a pirate himself and would surely see through such ruses to find a trustworthy sea craft.

           Mary put a hand on her partner’s back and led him down the road into town. The city was beginning to quiet around them as children were put to bed and families tidied up after their supper in the tranquility of dusk. The hum of domesticity hung in the autumn air light as a feather, yet Edward felt it smothering him like a downy pillow as he tried to stifle his uncertainty for their near future. He was grateful, however, for the shadows drawing long across the dusty Havana streets. Their cover allowed them to move toward du Mont’s home with fewer anxious glaces about their surroundings.

           “A foster home,” he mused eventually, breaking through the buzz of insects and the gentle breeze. “Odd that Torres would have such a connection. Did he really deal in children with the frequency to render it necessary?”

           Mary frowned and cast a scolding glance, but he could sense by the steady pressure of her hand on his spine that she wasn’t truly irritated at his remark. “I don’t like to imagine my daughter as a commodity to be bought and sold, or any person for that matter. But I can see why the Templars would value a man like du Mont. They can harm and manipulate their enemies as they’ve done me without having to take responsibility for the child’s wellbeing, and it’s more difficult to keep track of where they end up if another party handles the transactions. It’s almost clever, really. Something I might have done, were I of a different mind about the ethics of it.”

           Edward nodded thoughtfully. “I would have thought it too kind a solution for a man of Torres’ disposition. Perhaps he did hold a soft spot in his heart for babes… though it seems perverse to distinguish them from the other innocents he so sought to control.”

           Mary’s lips pressed into a firm line. “I hope you’re right about that. If this du Mont harmed my girl…”

           “I’ll gladly hold him down while you split his skull.” He pressed a supportive kiss to her temple as they walked. “Though I’d rather toy with him a bit first. I know merciful deaths are your color, but mine run darker yet. You’d be welcome to join me in my fun, however.”

           She smirked at his proposition. “I s’pose I haven’t wrung the whole scoundrel out of you yet.”

           “Would I be any fun if you had?” He punctuated his words with a saucy wink.

           Mary eyed him up and down suggestively. “Perhaps it isn’t the worst thing.”

           By the time they reached the address that Ikal had given them some days earlier, the sun had sunk resolutely behind the mountains and the most commanding sounds in the air were the wind and the shuttering of windows. Mary led the way as they circled the residence. It was a two story home, proud but not immodest, with fading green walls and white trimmings that glowed pale in the dawning moonlight. There was no hint of the heavy security that they were accustomed to dealing with when infiltrating Templar bases. In fact, the building gave no more hint of concern toward intruders than its neighbors did. Edward found it highly suspect, but didn’t voice his unease. If Ikal said this was where they would find their man then this was where they needed to be.

           They found a window sitting open on the second floor at the back of the house, its wispy curtains dancing sleepily in the warm breeze. Mary ran at the wall, kicking off the side boards to push herself into the air and grip the windowsill. Edward stayed on the ground, keeping watch for any patrolmen and waiting for her to scope out the interior. She hauled herself inside and disappeared for a long moment before poking her head back out. She signaled for him to follow, but to do so quietly.

           He sprinted at the house and pushed off the side as she had, propelling himself up to the open window. She took his hand and pulled him in. When his eyes adjusted, he found himself in the dimly lit room of a child. du Mont’s infant son slept to his left, letting out the tiniest of snores every handful of seconds. Carefully, Edward crept to where Mary was crouched at the open doorway, peering into the hall. It was empty. Together they slunk into the greater house. Mary headed with purpose toward the door opposite the landing of the stairs, seeming to sense something within, and quietly, gently twisted the knob. She cracked the door open just enough for them to slip into the room.

           Ignacio du Mont laid by his wife’s side in an opulent four-poster bed that had seen some wear. The emerald green drapery hung loosely around the sleeping couple. Edward snuck to the man’s side of the bed and grabbed a fistful of the heavy velvet curtain. With that in hand, he engaged his wrist blade and pressed one long edge against the exposed flesh of his target’s throat, covering du Mont’s mouth and nose with the cloth to muffle his reaction. The Spaniard’s eyes snapped open, fluttering like wings as he adjusted to consciousness and took in his tense situation.

           Mary hovered at Edward’s side. Her hand rested lightly on the grip of her ruby knife, intimidating but not yet threatening. “We have no quarrel with your wife,” she hissed lightly through the darkness. “Best you come with us, so as not to disturb her.”

           Edward tentatively removed the curtain from du Mont’s face and motioned for him to stand, pressing the blade to his neck a little rougher as a warning. Eyes wide but compliant, the Spaniard held his hands just above his head as he was led into the hallway. The Assassins led him past his son’s room to one at the other end of the house, far from the sleeping ears of his family yet still high enough to hurt should they need to throw him from a window for whatever reason.

           The room they had selected was an abandoned nursery. The walls were a gentle, soothing shade of yellow, and two bassinets were nestled along the far wall. An assortment of toys adorned the shelves and two plush, burgundy chairs sat by the window facing each other. Edward pushed du Mont into one and Mary settled into the other.

           Mary leaned forward commandingly, placing her elbows on her spread knees with her hands clasped loosely between them. Her calm was menacing. “Are you the man the Templars call Ignacio du Mont?” she inquired evenly.

           Their target gave her a nervous, but puzzled look. “Sí, that is my name, though I know not of these Templars you speak of.”

           Edward tightened his knife’s grip on his captive’s skin. “Don’t lie, cockrobin. Your hide won’t thank you for it.”

           du Mont tensed, his fingers digging into the upholstery of his seat. “That is my honest truth, I swear to you!”

           Mary raised a steadying hand. The captain met her eyes and he could tell she believed the squirming Spaniard’s words. He eased up, feeling du Mont relax beneath his grip.

           “Is it true to that you work for the former Governor Laureano de Torres?” Mary pressed.

           du Mont shook his head, looking nervous and a bit confused. “I took contracts from the Governor on occasion, sí, but my day to day work is with a shipping company. Rum, tobacco, sometimes armaments if the price is high enough. That sort of thing.”

           The set of Mary’s mouth firmed, but the sparkle in her fawn eyes gave away her eagerness at his admission. “Tell me, Ignacio, did these contracts ever ask you to deal in the trafficking of humans? What is the price for that, I wonder?”

           Their mark’s eyes grew wide and he threw up his hands in defensive objection. “No, never, sir. The slave trade is a dark and immoral business, simply uncatholic. I would not sully my hands or my family name with it. We are not so desperate for the gold it would bring that I need stoop so low. You dishonor me with the accusation.”

           Mary leaned back in her chair with her hands crossed over her lap, skeptical. “So the Governor Torres has never brought you a child to dispense of.” Her tone was pointed, trapping.

           Understanding dawned on du Mont’s face and he backtracked on his indignation. He shook his head and huffed to the floor. “I must explain. My wife has this passion for children, you see. She herself was orphaned as at a tender age, but was lucky enough to be taken as a ward… Others are not so fortunate. We house children in crisis around the city as there is a need for it. You can see from our relatively vacant home that she has quite a knack for finding suitable families for the sweet babes that cross our door, and has gained some pleasant notoriety in the city for her work. This news reached the Governor at some point and he offered to aid our efforts. A few times over the years, Torres’ men would bring us a child or two. Sometimes they stayed for a time before the Governor sent to retrieve them, and other times we were asked to find them loving homes. Such children always came with a hefty donation… and a request for discretion.”

           The man’s passion for his cause seemed true, but his last words stirred Edward’s blood. “Did you not think to ask who these young ones belonged to? Did the cloak and dagger of it not rouse your suspicions?”

           du Mont raised his hands concedingly. “In truth, they did at times. At first we suspected them to be the Governor’s bastards, and might have left it at that had there not been so many over the years. But what power did we have to investigate? And how could we do so without having to admit to ourselves our own part in any nefarious plot? It would ruin my wife. The only power I possess is to care for and nurture these innocent souls and to place them with families who will do the same. And every man must make compromises. Their price has permitted us to take in many others who come to us through honest means, children we might otherwise have needed to turn away.”

           Mary nodded thoughtfully, less irate, more understanding than Edward himself. “I respect your motives, but not your methods. Unfortunately, those are personal to me. You see, one of these little ones came to you straight from my own arms, robbed from me at her birth.” She leaned in closer, her eyes imploring, attempting to appeal to the loving parent in du Mont. “You’re a father. You have a young son. You can imagine how I must find my daughter, how I have died everyday that I have been unable to do so since that morning last April when she was stolen from me.”

           “April?” du Month started. He gave a heavy sigh and glanced at Edward patiently but warily. “May I stand? I have something you may like to see.”

           Kenway let him rise, but kept his blades at the ready should their new friend make a move to escape. The Spaniard led the way down the stairs with the pirates at his tail and took them into a study. He went directly to his desk and ran his fingers along the underside of the table’s lip. There was a soft click and a hidden drawer popped out at the side. He gently lifted a small, blue notebook from within.

           “It was never a direct condition of our arrangement that I wasn’t to keep records on the children Torres brought to me, but I don’t suspect he would be pleased that I have. Regardless, the secrecy made me uneasy and I wanted insurance should their origins come back to haunt me as you have this night.” He handed the book to Mary. Edward loomed at her shoulder, watching as she thumbed through the pages, seeking one dated April 1721.

           “I remember your girl. She came to me still slick from the womb. We seldom get them so small, and we feared for a time that she wouldn’t make it… but she had strength in her. I particularly enjoyed having her here. She was a quiet, agreeable thing.”

           “Not at all like her mother then,” Edward quipped playfully, earning himself a dark glare from Mary.

           “Here,” his partner breathed when she landed on the page. There was an address - a plantation at Matanzas - and three names: the adoptive couple, Thiago and Catalina Reyes, and their adopted daughter.

           “Maria?” Edward remarked incredulously.

           “Sí, that’s the name the Governor gave when she was brought to us,” du Mont confirmed, perplexed at his change in tone.

           His lover laughed out loud, and the sound was angry. “That codger…” She turned to du Mont and explained, “The mother was an englishwoman named Mary. She… didn’t get on with the Governor. Giving her child the Spanish iteration of her name, I suppose it was both a tribute and an insult. A way to honor the mother and their quarrels, yet possess the daughter as spoils of war.”

           du Mont nodded. “Indeed, I knew Torres to have an ever slightly perverse sense of humor. Still, he paid well, and your child was no exception. The money was put to her good care, I can assure you.” He took the book back from her and ripped out the page concerning Jennifer before locking it safely back in his desk. “I don’t know what your quarrel was, but believe you me, I have no affiliation with him past what we’ve discussed, and no stake in his affairs. I am sorry for the part I played in your daughter’s kidnapping, and for the pain it caused your family. I am not in the business of separating parent and child. Quite the opposite, actually.” He offered the paper to Mary, who took it gratefully.

           “Thank you for your help, and for keeping my girl safe during her time here.” After pausing in contemplation for a moment, Mary reached into her coat and pulled out a pouch of gold. It bore the Assassin insignia. She dropped the sack onto du Mont’s desk with a soft thud and the jingling of coin. “You and your wife do noble work here. If you ever seek to do business with a more honorable cut of folk, show this symbol at your threshold. Our friend Rhona will know to seek you out.”

           du Mont smiled amicably. “I will keep it in mind. Now go in peace, dark friends. Your daughter awaits.”

           Mary nodded in farewell and started out the door. Edward lingered a moment, hesitant. His insecurities and fears about this child mounted again at this new information, holding him back from following the person he cared about most. They were so close to finding Jennifer, but every step they took closer to her took him one step closer to an irrevocable change in his relationship with her mother. Jenny would always come first in Mary’s eyes, as she damn well should. Would he be able to prioritize her the same way, this child that should have been his but now never could be? Mary would expect it of him. If he was a good man, he’d be up to the task. Maybe someday he’d get there. He just had to hope that happened before he could ruin himself in Mary’s eyes once and for all.

           The woman he loved paused just outside, looking back at him expectantly. “Coming, Kenway?”

           Looking at her in the moonlight, strong and healthy and alive, he knew this was not the greatest thing he would be willing to overcome to stay by her side.

           “Aye,” he called back, his voice catching every so slightly. He turned to du Mont and gestured farewell. “Cherish your wife and son,” he advised. Looking around the plush, modest study he added, “You’ve been blessed with a good life here. I envy you for it.”

           He followed Mary out of the house, leaving behind their slightly puzzled new friend to mull over the strangest night of his recent years. With a hand on his partner’s back, the two Assassins set off down the road toward what Edward hoped would become the happiness and satisfaction he so craved.

A sound, a light that rips through the night, now too far away

But when I follow my heart, it leads me to you

When I’m weak from everything that I’m told

Yes, I’m weak from everything that I’m told

And I’m weak from all the things that I know

           The moon hung low on the horizon. Its silver reflection reached out across the sea, stretching toward Edward only to be broken apart by the waves just before reaching him on the shore. The captain sat tucked into the sandy slope of a kingston beach, bare-chested and bare-footed. He wiggled his toes deeper into the soft, bleached grains before him, still somewhat warm from the hot, sunny day. The temperature cooled each inch he dug deeper. Flecks of it clung to his arms and legs and hugged the damp bottom-third of the bottle at his side like a sleeve askew.

           While Mary had gone back to the Jackdaw to make the necessary preparations for their trip at first light, he had come to commune with the sea as he always did when he felt he was losing control. The ocean was one thing he knew he had command of. Here, he was a devil and a king. He inspired fear in his enemies and loyalty in his friends. There was no battle he couldn’t win, no place that was barred to him. Try as they might, these West Indies couldn't seem to kill him.

           What he couldn’t control, however, was his future. Tomorrow night, his relationship with Mary was decidedly going to change. Tomorrow, Mary herself was going to change. She would be a mother in more than just blood and name. He couldn’t say for certain how that might affect their dynamic. Their relationship, their partnership, those were sometimes strained and always carefully balanced. This child would throw a very sturdy weight onto one side of all things. Could they learn to compensate? Edward couldn’t be sure. Mary was so firey and he was so hard-headed. How would the responsibilities of parenthood interact with those traits?

           Moreover, he couldn’t control how tomorrow would go for Mary. There were so many unknowns, so many variables, that he couldn’t ensure the day would go to plan. He couldn’t predict how receptive young Jennifer would be to the change, or if she would be able to understand what was happening. His feelings about this girl’s origins and the potential ramifications on his own life aside, Mary deserved to be reunited with her daughter. Even if it meant he had to give her up altogether to make it happen, then so be it. He would do whatever he could to make their mission a success along with their life thereafter, but ever since that night he’d pulled Mary out of that reeking prison cell he’d had a crippling fear of not being able to do enough. A fear of being too late.

           The sound of familiar footsteps at his side flushed his chest with warmth. The small, rough hand on his bare shoulder was a welcome reminder that he didn’t do this - or anything else - alone. He looked up to see Mary, not James Kidd, at his side. Her hair hung loose, gently lifted here and there by the warm breeze winding around them. She was dressed down to a white blouse with simple trousers and no boots. Her expression was more relaxed than he had seen it in a week, much to his pleasant surprise. “Mind if I join you?” she asked in a murmur.

           In response he took her hand and pulled her down to the sand next to him. She leaned her shoulder against his and gazed our across the water. The waves broke with a soothing, steady roar, their crests five deep as they rolled in toward the beach.

           “You’ve been out here quite a while,” she observed after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

           He turned his head and pressed a small kiss to the crown of her head. She smelled like salt, sweat, and smoke. “Aye, I wanted some quiet. Needed to do a bit of thinking. Did you get on all right with the crew?”            She nodded. “The damp louts will be right and ready come dawn,” she said in a scoff, rubbing the back of his hand affectionately with her thumb.

           He smiled lightly at her irritation with their ever-intoxicated crew and squeezed her fingers. “It is my great regret that I didn’t steal you aboard the Jack years ago. If only Adé had forced my hand a year or two soner.”

           Mary laughed at that. “As though you could have talked me into it, at the time. Or as though you’d have even asked. You’re well aware I’d have used it as a chance to guilt you into joining our Creed, and we both know how eager you were to subject yourself to that back then.” She elbowed him in the ribs teasingly.

           He playfully shoved back before letting out a wistful sigh and hanging his head. “No, you’re wrong about that. I would have jumped at the chance to sail with you. I know I wasn’t an easy man-” She cut him off with an arched brow. He returned a cheeky grin and revised his statement. “-am not an easy man to call friend, but Mary, even then I craved your approval. Yearned to stand at your side an equal in character, worthy of being spoken of in the same breath as you and your brothers. I thought I could go about it my own way, thought that riches and reputation could buy me that right. I tried, Lord knows I did, but I almost lost you for it, and did lose so many others.” His thoughts wandered sadly to their motley family in Nassau, long gone. Thatch, Anne, all the rest more colorful and abrasive.

           She held his gaze calmly with affection and concern in her sharp eyes, staying silent as though she could sense there was more he wasn’t saying. And there was. He didn’t want to say it, was loath even to think it in the shadowed privacy of his own mind. Maybe it was the alcohol swimming about in his veins, however, or that look she was giving him, the patience that always broke him to pieces in the end, but he felt it needed said. Tomorrow would be a different life from the one they were living in that moment on the beach beneath the waning moon. If he didn’t tell her that night, he would most certainly take it to his grave.

           With an anxious huff and a heavy pull from his bottle of rum he continued, his words directed at the rolling waves before them. “More than anything, I hope I would have asked you aboard because I wonder what might have been different in our lives if we hadn’t spent those few years apart.” He pulled his hand from hers, ashamed. His fingers dropped to grab fistfuls of sand, letting the grains sift through them like the wasted days he might have spent loving her instead of his gold. “My cursed partnership with Roberts, your arrest, our long months languishing away just there.” He nodded toward the dim horizon where the lights of Kingston jail glittered in the night across the bay, deceptively and offensively beautiful. He swallowed hard as his throat tried to trap his next words in his chest. “But mostly… I hope Jennifer could have been mine. My blood. No other man’s.” He tried to keep the jealous venom out of his tone but it was all he could do to get the idea past his lips. Controlling his emotions was out of the question. With a rough sigh he conceded, “It’s a natural consequence of my past choices that she is not. But I do hope I could have found a way to be worthy of that honor. To win your favor each night, to make you so satisfied, body and soul, that you need not visit another man’s bed or spend your days in the light of his affection. To be enough. A joy and not a burden.”

           Mary was still as he said all this, carrying on with her patient silence. When he dared glance at her, she was studying the horizon. Her wrists were draped loosely over her knees and her thumbs picked absently at her middle and ring fingers as they sometimes did when she was deep in thought, carefully selecting her words. He couldn’t name the emotion on her face.

           “Anne always said he reminded her of you,” she started after a tense moment of quiet had passed between them that, to Edward, didn’t seem like it would ever end. “I never saw what she did in that. But each of you was after the same thing as the other, something more meaningful than base gold and drink. Esteem, respect, community. Perhaps that’s what she always meant. He was the only man dry enough to fight beside us women that night. He was killed in the struggle while the drunken rats cowering below deck got their fair trial. Twisted fate, that. I never had the chance to tell him I was with child, but I think he’d have been happy. Proud, even. I didn’t love him, nor did he love me to my knowing, but we respected each other, and he’d have made a good father. His name was Jamie. My girl has his red hair.” She turned to face him and placed a hand on his knee. “I’m not going to soothe your ego, Kenway. I have no regrets for these past few years, though I can’t speak for what I might have done had things unfolded in any other manner. But I know my course lies with my daughter, and there’s room alongside us if you’re as certain of your heading as I am of mine. Given time, who knows? Perhaps one day there will be a child that’s equal parts your blood as they are mine.”

           Edward’s insecurities didn’t melt away as she spoke, explaining her side, nor did he feel any more settled about the past and his own regrets. Maybe, though, that was a good thing. His ghosts and regrets were almost welcome friends now. They were the driving force for his ambitions, a somber glimpse at the darkness that awaited him should he ever slip into his old ways, the easy ways. Each morning and night he faced them and counted up his deeds to assure himself they would never again be his reality, would not rob him of even one more day of happiness than they already had. Mary, their future together, even a child one day… they would be his reward for staying his course. He had a feeling that Jennifer would serve as both a ghost and a reward.

           He kissed her then, forcefully. “I can wait for that day,” he promised her. “Because Jennifer is a part of you, and there’s not one damned piece of you that I don’t love more than any of my own.” And he meant that. Until the day that they were ready for another, and every day after that, he would love that little girl as though she were his very own, because she was Mary’s and Mary was his from then and forever more. At last.

Do you think of me when you look to the sea?

I know it’s hard to grow when you’re pushed to your knees

I know our time will pass, your love, it will last

Darling, we will never break

Never break, darling

Song: To The Sea - Seafret

[kathrineindeed]

Simon smut 'here?'

Prompt: chair sex/wee bit of sexting Warnings: yeahhh Simon x reader __________________ You were in your apartment, it was quite late around two am you had just revived a text. You were sat in the living room. So You moved to London with your two best friends Monica and Soph. You moved into a big apartment together as you were all single at the time of moving. The apartment had a minimalist vibe with a few pieces of art and posters of bands and Polaroids all over the walls. The buzz of your phone re caught your attention and you read the text Simon ;): Hey, come over? X That simple text, has so much meaning. You and Simon have been dating a year, you met very soon after moving to London. You liked each other from the first time you saw each other to be super cliche but, you met at a party and spent the whole time getting to know each other. You instantly fell in love with his goofy personality, his piecing blue eyes, the unnatural blond of his hair and you always had a soft spot for a tall guy. So from that day on you spend almost everyday together, you lived at the sidemen house, sleep there eat there and be in all kinds of videos. You were in uni, not looking to be a YouTuber to be honest, but that didn't stop you getting involved with the guys videos. You've learnt new skills like FIFA, football and all sorts though been involved in videos. Y/N: Ummm not sure You decide to tease him a little as you always get the short end of the stick, he constantly teased you, about your height, during sex etc.. the list goes on. He replied instantly Simon: Y/Nnnnnnn I need you if you didn't realise You leave it five minutes and he sends another text but this one was longer, you open up the message Simon: Okay, Y/N I want to kiss you, it would be full of need and want, my hands would be desperate to touch you all over. I would then, kiss your neck finding your sweet spot instantly, biting and kissing that one spot that makes you so hot. Then I would move my hands to your trousers taking them off and instantly pressing my thumb to your clit making a figure eight shape, driving you crazy then when you think you couldn't take anymore I would Insert two fingers into you, curling them so they hit all the right spot to have you cumming in minutes. That text had made you so hot and bothered,you were almost to flustered to reply Y/N: Simon I'm coming over, be there in 5 x I went to see Monica and Soph before I left, I walked into Sophs room where both were. Lying on the bed chatting and looking through social media. "Heading out lads" you say "The fuck you going at this time of night?" Monica asks "Why are you so flustered?" Soph questioned "Wait! She's going to Si for a late night booty call" Monica smirked Fuck she figured me out, well Iv been caught red handed. I'm the worst lier so I have to tell them the truth. "Yes I am, won't be back so don't wait up" I say "Whoooo go girl" "Get it girl" they both shout You grab your car keys, and leave the apartment. You walk down the hall to the lift and press 'G' for the ground floor where my jeep was. I hop in and make the drive to Simons with my glasses on. The drive goes quick you play some music to make the ride more enjoyable. You finally pull up to the sidemen house and you hop out of your car and lock it. You walk up to the front door, unlock it with your spare key. You open the door quickly and relock it after you're in, you sneak your way up the stairs to Si's room. You open his door only to find him watching a video with headphones on so you decided to sneak your way up to him and you kiss his neck and he jumps in shock. "Holy shit, Y/N you scared the shit out of me!" He says breathless "oh my lord Si, you jumped feet" you giggle "Come here" he says gesturing to his lap You do as he says, putting a leg ether side of him facing him. "You look super cute in your glasses" he says You had forgotten you had them on, you never where them around him. You think there ugly. "Thank you" you replied sweetly "Mhhh, Iv missed this" he says low Instead of replying you grind you hips down on to him, rolling them at the same time. "Shit Y/N" he moans out "Christ Si, you are horny" you state "Can't help it, when my girlfriend looks like this" he says slyly cocking a brow You blush at his comments, he grabs your hips grinding them down again and the two of you meet for a kiss. Tongues fighting as soon as your lips touched his soft ones, he wins the battle and his tongue explores the familiar territory of your mouth. You hands run up his arms, and eventually finding his hair which you find yourself running your hands through touching the spiky locks, he starts to kiss your neck and instantly finds your sweet spot abusing it with kisses and bites. A moan erupts from you "Aghh" Simon smirks carrying on kissing your neck. He fiddles with the hem of your top, signalling he wants it off so you take it off and he unclasps your bra. You then remove his top, your hand instinctively go to his chest as he brings your lips to his again. His hands are in your hair, the kiss is desperate and needy, I could tell Si needed some attention. So I get off his lap and we both take our bottoms off and I kneel down in front of him and he already had semi hard on, my thumb pressing over his tip, spreading the pre cum. I slide my hand up and down his erection, various different pressures and twisting my hand sometimes. My name falling from his lips, his head falling back. "Mhhh fuck Y/N" he moans Then I take the tip of his length into my mouth and then remove it slowly, I do the same until I hear Simon moan in frustration " Y/N please no teasing I need you right now" You decide to do what he asks and you take his full length in your mouth and then proceed to bob your head up and down, pumping anything you can't fit in your mouth with your hand expertly twist you tongue around occasionally. Si's hands grip your hair as encouragement, he gives an occasional thrust into your mouth but with that he's unraveling under you. You leave him, flustered and almost at his climax you, stand to meet his gaze his hair plastered to his forehead and you give him a quick kiss, while he rolls a condom on then you climb back on to his lap, you slowly insist his length into your pussy. Once he's completely inside, he allows you time to adjust, then you start to roll you hips, bouncing up and down as moans erupts from you and Si. "Si ahhh, mhh fuck" you cry out as he stretches you out "Y/N" he grunts out He then meets your trusts, his hips bucking. You kiss his neck while his hands roam all over your body. You hands bunched in his hair, you felt so good. His trusts get harder and faster when he hits your g-spot, driving you crazy. Already feel that knot in your stomach "Si I'm going to cum" you cry out He then places a finger on your, clit pressing down hard. This triggers your orgasm. You legs start to quiver your head falls back, vision going blurry as you're sent in to waves of pleasure, you hold on to Simon for support. His thrusts get sloppy riding out your orgasm. His eyes begin to shut as he gives it a few more thrusts before his climax washes over him. "Fuck Y/N mhhh" he lets out a breathy moan You hop off the chair, putting some joggers on and his white shirt while he disposed of the condom putting some new clothes on. He sits on on the edge of his bed and you sit next to him and give him a loving kiss. You both head down stairs to grab some food. You hop on the island while Simon was getting his food. He walks over to you and stands in between your legs and you two start to make out again, his hands on your face, your copying and you moan slightly into the kiss and josh awkwardly walks in and coughs. *cough* We both quickly turn our heads, to see josh smirking. "Some would of called this a booty call Si" he teased while getting a drink You two just blushed in embarrassment. Once you got your food you head up to Si's room and ended up cuddling and falling asleep very quickly. K- I'm not sure if I like this :)

[yourjughead]

Serpent Andrews pt.

Part 2 as requested Warnings: swearing, mild "violence" fluff. Pairings: Jughead x reader A/N: as requested. ------------------------------------------------ Jughead POV YN and I had been dating for almost three months. A secret to both our groups of friends. I didn't want it this way but yn was petrified that Archie would drive us apart. No amount of convincing from my end could change her mind. It totally killed me to see yn sitting alone at lunch. We were all hanging out in Archie's as YN came in the front door, smiling at us before climbing the stairs. “Yn did the weirdest thing last night” my head snapped to Archie's at the mention of my girlfriends name. “What?!” Woah now Jug not to eager you'll give the game away. Betty raised an eyebrow to me. “Umm she was actually at home. It's so weird she's home a lot more now” Archie continued. This was true, yn had even said it herself. Her Serpent friends said it. I said it. My friends all seemed shocked to this. I need to tell them. I'm going to tell them, I have to tell them, I can't tell them. The inner conflict was killing me. “Wheres yn” Fred came into the sitting room and Archie pointed to the stairs. Fred nodded and followed yn up the stairs. “Her and my dad have been inseparable as well lately, it's so annoying. She must want something from him” Archie added. Okay I'm going to say something, I'm not going to say something. Aaaaarrrrghhh. The group suddenly started bashing yn, the usual but this time a bit harsher than usual. That's it I'm saying something. “Hey! Stop!” my voice was angry and got a little away from me. The group turned to look at me. “Uhh why?” Archie questioned. I stood uo, anger fueling adrenaline “Well firstly, you're all being assholes and she's a human person who might be going through other things, secondly, she's your sister Archie I shouldn't be the one defending her, thirdly she's my girlfriend and if one of you says anything else bad about her I'm going to lose it!” I took a deep breath, sitting back down, phew that felt good. The group all looked at me like I just said I shoot puppies for a living. “Why...why her” Veronica looked physically repulsed “Because she's a really great person who was being overlooked in the shadow of a perfect brother! She has...had no support network and she doesn't deserve it!” More questions followed but through it all Archie stayed sat, stewing. This made me the most uncomfortable of all. I'd rather him screaming at me to the point of losing his voice than dead silence. Archie stood up and the group went silent. He's going to hit me. Great. Archie walked towards me as I got ready to defend myself further. Instead he turned and ran up the stairs. The group went back to strong disapproving. Y/N pov Archie came bursting into the room as I mid conversation with dad. “Dad, I need to talk to yn” both I and dad were couldn't hide our shock at this. Dad nodded cautiously before leaving. I looked at Archie and instantly felt my body tense. “So you and jughead...” his tone was annoyed but not necessarily angry. I can't believe he told them. Oh I'm going to kill him for putting me in this situation. I nodded slightly. “Why didn't you tell me?” I looked down at the floor. I'm usually outspoken and well able to stand my ground but my voice has been stolen. I shrugged my shoulders. “Look yn I know we've never exactly been close...and I haven't really been a good support network for you and..”. My head snapped up at this. Where did he get that from? I've only ever said that to Jug. “...but I want us to be better together, I've seen the change in you and like it” “So you only like me when I'm changing” this caught him off guard. “No no yn it's just I don't really think you're right for Jughead...you're not really what he needs” Archie was grinding against my nerves. This is exactly what I was afraid of and this is exactly why I didn't want to tell him. I stood up and stormed down the stairs. I walked into the sitting room and all eyes landed on me. I glared at Jughead before taking off out the door. He tried to follow me to my car but I was too quick and sped off to the Southside. Jughead POV I'm an idiot I'm an idiot I'm an idiot. Why didn't I listen to yn. I ran back into the house and took Archie's keys from the hook. “Wait jughead!” Archie came running down the stairs. “What?!” I snapped. “I'm coming with you” “No you're not” “Yes Jughead. Yes I am, I'm her brother and it's time to start acting like one”. Reluctantly I nodded my head. “Fine, I hate driving that Jeep anyway” I tossed him the keys and we ran out of the house leaving our friends sitting shocked. I directed Archie to where the Jrs hung out. It was anything but glamorous. “Wow I can't believe y/n would rather be here than at home…” Archie locked the car doors. “Yeah well to her it's less hostile than her home”. I could see guilt spreading across Archies face. Good. We finally pulled up outside an old firehouse. “Do as I say Archie, don't look at anyone, come off confident...not cocky” we jumped out and walked in. It has been forever and a day since I was here. People looked at me firstly ready to attack but then in shock.  Yup, I'm back bitches. Before we could continue looking for her, a small group cut in front of us. “Jughead Jones, the prodigal son returns” she practically growls. “Hello Carla, long time no see, thankfully” she makes my blood boil. She had a scar on her jaw that I knew yn had gifted her, that's my girl. She pursed her lips at this comment. “What do you want” she bit. “Looking for the leader” yup I'm going to kick her in the teeth with that. “I am her” the girls behind her exchanged glances and tried not to laugh. “I don't think so, where's yn” torturing Carla was so fun and too easy. She pursed her lips again and nodded behind her to where y/n was sitting with some of the the other jr. lads. Ugh, the way they were drooling over her was making my stomach turn. We stepped to move but Carla put her hand to Archie's chest stopping him. “You're new, I like new meat” she growled and I could see archie shift on the spot. While I must admit it was great watching Archie squirm under the power of a girl this is not why we're here. “Leave him alone Carla” “I don't answer to you” she shoved me before catching Archie my the collar. “No, but you answer to me” yns voice came from behind me as she stepped past me, brushing my shoulder. Carla turned and jostled Archie back before turning and squaring up to yn. I know this is a tense situation but damn yn looks so hot. Carla ran her tongue across her teeth while yn didn't break her gaze. YN tilted her head to the side, challenging Carla. “Leave him alone” yn said through gritted teeth. “And if I don't?” “I think we both know what will happen and we both know how it will end. Stand.down.” this is really hot but I know this could get ugly really really quickly. Carla swung for yns face but she caught her fist before it met her face. YN twisted Carla's arm so it was behind her back. Yn took her car key from her pockets and put it to Carlas throat. I couldn't believe what I was seeing and archie had turned snow white, everyone else watched on as it was the usual... probably was. “I'm sorry? Were you going say something?” Yn dripped with anger and sarcasm as she pushed the car key closer into Carlas skin. Carla didn't say anything. “Thought so” yn left go of Carla with a shove. Carla turned to say something and yn raised an eyebrow, using better judgement she sulked off, her cronies following in close. “What's everyone looking at!” She practically shouted and everyone immediately went back to what they were doing. She led us into a small office at the back of the building. She threw herself down on the chair and swung her up on the desk. “Are you like a mob boss or something?” Archie cautiously sat down in the seat across from her, I stayed leaning against the door. “So umm yn I..I...I just want to apologise for not being... exactly nice to you or a good brother and I want to fix that yn i really do…” “Okay” “Okay?” “Yeah” “Emm okay okay I'll eh let you take Jughead home? I think he wants to have a look around” Archie practically ran out of the place. Cheers mate. Yn met my eyes and stood up and leaned on the edge of the desk facing me. “YN…i just had to tell them...I'm sorry….” “dont. It's fine” she smiled weakly. I walked towards her and cupped her face in my hands. “Yn I love you “ the words just let slip and once they were out I couldn't take them back. I don't want to. “I love you too juggy” we kissed deeply and nothing had ever felt so right. -------------------------------------------------- Teehee Xx

[archonreviews]

The Archon’s Review of Shining Force II

Shining Force II is a tactical turn-based JRPG set in a western style fantasy world, primarily on the continents of Grans and Parmecia. After an enterprising thief named Slade (who, incidentally, looks like a teenage Master Splinter) steals the Jewels of Light and Evil, a great darkness is unleashed upon the world, and it is up to the Shining Force and it’s glorious leader to stop it. The game was developed by Sonic! Software Planning, and published by SEGA, who seem to get all the credit for it.

Shining Force II was a rather fortuitous find for me. Just before I published my review of Drakensang, I was looking for another game to review, when this gem came across my Steam discovery queue. I remembered playing Shining Force on the SEGA Smash Pack 2 as a wee lad, so I thought it prudent to take this one up.

The game came with charming little emulator, styled SEGA Mega Drive & Genesis Classics. The purpose of the software seems to be the preservation of older SEGA titles, i.e, the ones everyone remembers as being tolerable. So I loaded up my virtual cartridge in my virtual SEGA Genesis, and thus loaded the game proper.

The game begins with an introductory cutscene relating the theft of the Jewels Light and Dark, and then the title screen. Now, once you hit START, the game does not progress to an introduction of the characters, or even to a controllable part of the game. Instead, a witch tells you that you have help her. And her introduction is quite startling.

^(Okay, interesting. I wonder who this is...)^

^(Gah! Those were literally a single frame apart!)^

Basically, you have to help her by playing the game. Essentially, she acts as a glorified main menu.

And thus begins the adventure of Bowie (not to be confused with David Bowie, the ineffable king of all goblinkind)! Of course, this being a JRPG, you can rename the protagonist. Thus begins the adventure of Rakish; full name: Duke Rakish Heir. I elected to roleplay Rakish as a drunken sot, as well as a master swordsman! It made a lot of the decisions the protagonist takes make a lot more sense.

^(The birth of Duke Rakish Heir, hero of the land...)^

^(... And a drunken pillock.)^

Of course, the bread an barnacles of any turn-based tactical JRPG is the combat. The Shining Force II combat is functional, even fun. The only problem I really have is that ranged/support characters seem to get way less experience points, and thus level up more slowly than other characters. This is because characters only gain experience upon hitting dudes, or healing friendly dudes. The amount of experience the character gets is based on some sort of esoteric formula which utilizes damage dealt and secret multipliers. Healers in particular tend to get shafted, as for some reason, the amount of experience they get isn’t quite as directly tied to the amount they heal, which means they lag behind in terms of level gain. The combat, despite that problem, is genuinely fun. It’s fun to march your dudes/dudettes around the battlefield, having them smack enemy dudes in little mini cutscenes.

^(Pictured: Rakish going into his first combat without his sword. I mean, he’s gotta be drunk, right...?)^

It’s a good thing the combat is fun, because that’s pretty much the only thing the game has. Oh yes, there is a story and plot to connect the fights, and individual characters are colorful and fun for the hot second they’re introduced, but immediately after they just become another dude/dudette for you to throw at the foe. Heck, the game doesn’t even come with random encounters, each fight is once only.

^(Gerhalt, wolfman and punchmaster extrordinaire. My favorite character.)^

Okay, I tell a lie. It is possible to level grind with the “Egress” spell cast by Rakish. It basically boots you from the fight, keeping any experience and loot you got from the battle, and allows you to trek back to it to keep grinding it. But the use of the spell in this way feels terribly inorganic and cheesy. Fortunately, you can largely get by without it, and just take the fights as they come. Except for the Kraken.

^(Seriously, fuck the Kraken. Rakish isn’t even drunk. He gets seasick when on a boat while drunk.)^

I do want to harp on the gameplay/combat a little more. The enemy AI is about half Napoleon-esque tactician, and half lumpy schoolchild. Whenever it knows it can kill one of your characters, it does so with the precision and brazen confidence of an ancient Hashashin agent. But at all other times, the AI is content to attack your least vulnerable characters, or switch targets just as the previous target was on the edge of death; oh sorry, “exhaustion”. The AI is a bit cheesetastic is all.

^(Let battle be joined! Also, deserts can go fuck themselves. Movement-reducing asinine excuse for landscape...)^

Also, there are limited save points. One in every town, in fact. You can also save in the middle of combat, but I didn’t know that at first, so I was always stressing whenever I started up a session, and sometimes I wouldn’t even get into combat before setting the game down because I’d gotten to the next town and found a save point.

There’s one more nitpick I want to talk about before I get onto my biggest, and most subjective complaint about this game. I think it’s the emulator’s fault, but every so often, the entire game will lag a bit for no apparent reason, and it causes the sound to wig out in a very annoying way.

Now, for the subjective thorn in the taint. This game triggers a very peculiar neurosis in me. Essentially, in certain games, under certain circumstances, I absolutely must have a 0% mortality rate. Usually, these are games with companion characters, most often when the loss of those characters results in a loss of reward. Here, a character who “exhausts” in combat loses out on experience they may potentially get from hitting enemies, and for whatever reason, that fact brought the abovementioned neurosis to the front of my mind. Whenever one of characters would go down, I’d quit without saving, and stop playing for the rest of the day, and pick it up again the next day. I’d then go into battle much more cautiously. Now, don’t get me wrong; death is fairly cheap. You just go to the next or previous save priest and pay a fee. But whenever I lost a character (usually Slade the thief or Galahad the tortoise), I couldn’t help but feel like I’d fucked up. Now, as I said, this is purely a subjective quibble, but if you’re a perfectionist who can’t get off unless they feel like Zhuge Liang commanding the armies of Shu with flawless tactics, then you probably won’t enjoy this game too much.

^(One of the many identical save/resurrection priests. One suspects they were all somehow cloned in an attempt to create a universal point of safety for the realm.)^

As for graphics, I mean, it’s a fucking Genesis game, what do you want? At the end of the day, ask yourself, “Do I like Fire Emblem but would like it more if the graphics were worse and there wasn’t as much faffing about with relationship building and whatnot?” If yes, you will probably like Shining Force II, which is only a little awkward, as the creator of the Shining Force series has gone on record as saying that Fire Emblem is so bad, “not even he wanted to play it”. But hey, why let a little similarity to another popular tactical JRPG get in the way of a good SEGA title? Regardless, I may pick this back up again, if I can get as drunk as Duke Rakish Heir is. That way, I won’t feel it as much when characters “exhaust”. Or maybe I’ll feel it more, who knows? As for intent, that’s a little difficult. This being a game older than Dante’s Inferno (that’s the book, not the game), one can expect it not to have very sophisticated or cosmopolitan views on gender. Although, aside from all the ladies healing or shooting at things with arrows, the game doesn’t make any direct statements on gender politics, and heck, the healer lady can even upgrade to a kickass monk later on, for whatever that’s worth. Really, the game is a product of its time, just trying to be a neat little tactics game for people who are into that sort of thing, not even particularly odious to anyone’s sensibilities as far as I can tell.

^(It’s motherfuckin Galahad!)^

[nerdyfoodandbeercollector-blog]

Beer Snob, what’s in a name?

If you haven’t noticed yet, I kinda have a thing for beer. Don’t worry, it isn’t like I make it obvious or anything (look at the signs: this is a beer and food blog. I am often wearing brewery swag or a flannel shirt, the quintessential beer employee uniform. I send you a lot of pictures and snaps of beer. Did I mention this is a beer and food blog?). Even though I am (not) quiet about it, it is something I have become passionate about. I pride myself in being a true beer snob. 

But what does that mean? I don’t try and push super heavy beer down your throat. I don’t go around knocking red solo cups of piss water out of your hand. I don’t openly bash people’s choices when they order, and I don’t go around correcting your pronunciation of “brettanomyces” (it is pronounced BRETT-an-Oh– you know what, just call it Brett). Well, I guess it means, for me at least, that I tend to like a lot of different styles and I like to appreciate and enjoy all sorts of different flavors. It means that I care about the “craft” of brewing and not just its finished product. It means that I think beer can be a great unify-er, bringing people from all walks of life together. It means that I care about the amount of work, sweat, tears, and (sometimes) blood that goes into making even a small batch of beer. It means I try to deconstruct the flavors that make a beer and appreciate each one as well as the whole. It means I am passionate about good tasting beer.

From as far back as I can remember, my family has enjoyed drinking socially. My parents like wine, they like beer, they even enjoy the once-and-awhile nightcap. My dad would get excited about sharing a new bottle of red he discovered from his local shop (and since all dads are the first hipsters, I am sure it was a bottle you’d never heard of before). My step-dad, who is Dutch, loved and still loves his Belgian beers. My grandparents enjoyed their light, American piss-water (Bud was always the preferred can). And so, there was alcohol at almost every family dinner party my mom would throw and at most family dinners. But the goal was never to get drunk or to pass out. There was never a risk of someone needing a cab to get home. I believe that this instilled in me the idea that you can drink alcohol because you enjoy the way it tastes and because you want to highlight the flavors of a meal or to share a new bottle of something with friends and family. I learned that there were more important aspects of the beverage than just the alcoholic content (note, that still doesn’t stop me from looking at the ABV column on most menus first to get the best bang for my buck). And this isn’t to say I didn’t ever get drunk (of course I have) or that I wasn’t ever irresponsible (oh boy, this one trip to Russia…), it just means that from my parents, I learned how to truly appreciate beer. And I am grateful for that. 

Early on in college, I learned that the beer of choice often came in a 24 or 30 pack for $16.99 (think Coors, Bud, Miller, McGolden, and even the ever-elusive Beer 30) and the sole purpose of this beer was to drink a lot of it fast in the hope of getting you drunk, or at the very least, tipsy. While I liked getting tipsy, I needed to drink A LOT of that sparkling water-like beer to even come close. And I couldn’t taste any of the ingredients, so what was the point? I decided that I wanted, and would eventually come to love, beer that actually tastes good. Imagine that! Ingredients picked to play off each other and balance each other; beer crafted, not just as a cog in some big company’s machine. There’s something about drinking a delicious, layered, well-designed beer and enjoying it for what it is instead of looking for 30 tasteless beers to drink fast enough to get tanked before your sister’s recital (don’t ask).  And so if I was going to drink my bread instead of eating it, then I decided early on that I was going to get picky enough to make sure I chose the calories I actually wanted. And I never looked back.

But while my level of interest in beer only increased as I became more passionate about supporting local breweries, I never got the itch to brew my own beer. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing more rewarding than trying a beer you made in your mom’s shitty soup pot and actually thinking, “hey, this isn’t half bad!” And it can be pretty cost effective if you get into it enough to brew beer regularly. And, I am told, after a few times, you get the process and rhythm down that you can be brewing every few weeks as if it is second nature. So why haven’t I truly taken the plunge?  There’s just so much cleaning involved! The slightest bit of dust or bacteria could ruin hours of work, and I just can’t handle that kind of pressure, I guess. Having helped a few friends and then brewed a beer myself a couple of times, I have an increasing amount of respect and admiration for brewers, both professional, master brewers and the novice home brewer.

Recently, I was lucky enough to design and help brew my own beer at Sisyphus Brewing. And so, the “Orange You Glad You Like Chocolate” stout was born. But it was during this experience that I got to see what it was like to be a brewer for a day.

“It’s a lot of waiting around,” says Nick Walby, the new head brewer over at Sisyphus.  “Some days, most of what I do is just sit and wait.” Indeed, after grinding the malts and adding them to the mash, and then starting the boil, most of our time was spent sitting and talking about soccer (he’s an Arsenal fan, I’m a Liverpool lad). Sure, we were able to check out some of the other beers sitting in fermenters or bright tanks, and we cleaned as much as we could, but that was pretty much it. So not only do brewers have to practice and test making new recipes from scratch or be meticulous about how they want to transfer the fermented beer into a bright tank, but they have to find a way to keep themselves occupied while they wait for their concoction to finish boiling. Of course, that comes with its own set of tasks, too. “We have to make sure to add the hops at certain periods during the boil. That’s how we can determine things like bitterness and hop flavor.” This might seem so basic, so straightforward to some, but during my time as a Brand Ambassador, I learned that a lot of people don’t know what exactly goes into making a beer. And even with me, someone that knows the process very well, it was a completely different experience to do it first hand at an actual brewery instead of in a friend’s garage. Here, I got to really see the impact that adding each ingredient at each stage has on the final product. I suppose, then, it makes sense that brewers just gotta keep practicing and experimenting with different flavors and ingredients until they come out with the product they envisioned. And since brewing takes all day and fermenting takes weeks, you can see that you need to have patience. “Patience might be the most important ingredient, and not everyone has that. And what makes it even harder is that sometimes you have to keep thinking about 10 different things at the same time to keep track for the rest of your day.”  So while the work day is broken up by a lot of downtime, you’re never truly not working. “It can be a grind.” I’ll say. At least when you homebrew, you have your own home to keep occupied. “It can get a little lonely, I suppose, but that’s part of the job sometimes. Plus there’s always something I’m sure I could be doing.”

I guess it takes a particular person and a lot of practice. While I enjoyed my experience immensely and it helps me appreciate the beers I drink and the breweries I visit all the more, I feel like, at this stage in my life, I’m all about drinking it, writing about it, and talking about it than I am about brewing it myself. I’ll keep my beer snob hat until the day I die.