#i spent many years trying to preserve and safe guard the little girl in me

[beemintty]

i am a little girl.

[nad-zeta]

Match up ｡◕‿◕｡

Hello! Hope you are well 💕💕💕 I love your writing and especially how you wrote matchups, they are so detailed and very descriptive. Honestly you’re such an AMAZING WRITER. Had to put that in capitals cause it’s important and you’re amazing. So cause I love reading your matchups I want to request one for myself

I’m 173cm and 63kg ( so 5.67 ft and 118lbs according to google) and 20 years old. I have blonde hair silver highlights and they are about shoulder length. I have straight hair but sometimes I curl them a bit so they become wavy. I don’t wear much makeup, usually an eyeliner, mascara and a red lipstick. I wear glasses cause your girl is blind af. As for my look and style , sometimes I’m classy and sometimes I’m retro. Well that’s enough for my looks.

As for my career I’m currently in university studying for Computer Science and working a part-time job in a company for web development. Very nerdy but what can I say I love this stuff.

Ugh so about my personality , I would say I’m very open-minded, most of the time quiet and reserved. And I think because of that my friends have told me I look like a bitch and I give a ’ don’t mess with me’ vibe. And sometimes they tell me if “I didn’t know you I would probably be scared to talk to you”. This so different from what I am. I always think things through so when I talk to people I’m careful of what to say to them, and I’m almost never rude or disrespectful. Well I say almost cause there are some peope who get in my nerves and make me go off, but it is rare as I’m a very calm person . Those people that get in my nerves are people that are disrespectful to my friends and family, rude people in general and especially those who are rude to workers who work with costumers, people that comment about peoples appearances like their weight and color of their skin or their fashion choices , people who are refuse to listen to facts and science etc. I’m very supportive when it comes to my friends, people I love and appreciate ( it doesn’t matter if don’t hang out with them much) . And if they want to do smth I always give them advices or what to do to get better etc. Also I would say I’m very analytical and very hard to open up. It’s usually very hard for me to share personal information and I don’t even tell my problems and worries to my friends. When I’m with people that I like, I usually smile a lot and I’m very talkative and friendly .I’m also very honest with my opinions and thoughts. If I think you’re wrong I would say so and if you have some toxic traits I would say look you should try to fix it. For example my friend used to be very jealous to her boyfriend and I kept saying to her that you should try to fix it or control your jealousy. Also I’m very curious .Everyone has bad traits and one of mine is that I’m VERY stubborn and I have a hard time taking care of myself. Sometimes I forget to eat or I stay up all night and don’t sleep at all and stuff like that. Also I’m very precise as well as when I talk and when I do tasks .

Now for things that I like : I like swimming ( I stay all day in the sea or lake when when I go by the sea or lake) , I like logical problems cause I love solving them, I like crosswords, I like to play chess, I like to learn about things. I like math and physics ( And I always was the best in my class in those subjects), I like painting but I’m not that good at it. I also like traveling .

Okay that was about it. Sorry if it was long and kinda messy but I tried to give as much info as possible so you can best match me. I saw that you have tons if requests so take it easy . Take care for your self and thanks in advance for doing these matchups. 💕💕💕

Omw you are making me blush😳😳! You are such a sweetheart! 🦋☺❤Thank you for all you kind words, all your comments and likes on my posts! I legit appreciate them so much and i get excited every time i see you in my notifys🦋😳❤🌻, you legit make my day, dear! ❤🥰So thank you so much! 🌻🙌Thanks for the request! I hope i can live up to your expectations and i hope it was worth the long wait! 😂😏🌻I hope you have a wonderful day dear! Sending your lots of hugs and i hope you are keeping safe! ❤

So i match you with…………. Hideyoshi

You now found yourself surrounded by a gaggle of warlords, all looking at you, in the centre of the room. You had saved the great Nobunaga’s life a few hours prior to standing centre stage in front off all the warlords. After saving him from the flames, you got spooked and ran through the forest, where Masamune swiftly picked you up and plopped you down his horse. Mere moments after you arrived in Azuchi, you were summoned to the council room to decide your fate. Nobunaga sat before you wearing his trademark cocky grin, while beside him Hideyoshi scowled down at you like a guard dog.

You were relatively calm throughout the whole ordeal, that was until Nobunaga decided to grab hold of your chin and made some rude joke. Your calm demeanour slipped, and you gave a man a piece of your mind, which unfortunately was interrupted by Hideyoshi. The second you smacked his hand away from your face and started to speak up, you found a sword at your throat. Your sharp eyes turned to Hideyoshi as you continued to give the man a piece of your mind.

Once you were done, silence reined as you and Hideyoshi glared daggers at each other. The silence was finally broken when Nobunaga’s laughter ringed out, “she is the most amusing fireball, calm and reserved one minute, and the next, she is exploding.” He then smiled over at you and told Hideyoshi to leave you be, thereafter, he named you as princess of the Oda forces. And so your life in Azuchi began.

You worked incredibly hard for the castle and its people. In fact, you might have worked a little too hard as you started to feel the strain of the emotional and physical stress caused by the week from hell. You made quick friends with the maid, but all and all kept to yourself. The younger maids were somewhat afraid of you, most likely thanks to your intimidating vibe and face expression. It was this distinct quality of your that could even send shivers down Hideyoshi’s spine. Speaking of… this man did not trust you! However, because of your incredibly intimidating vibe, he did not employ his standard micromanagement procedure, instead opting to watch you from afar, while gathering intel on you from your fellow maids. Although, that all changed on one cold winters day.

You had been working so hard and taking up so many different side hobbies that you unknowingly neglected your health. You hadn’t slept for a few nights now, being too absorbed in your tasks, and as a result, your body gave out. You were in the library, helping the resident angel sort out the various books when you collapsed. Mitsunari was by your side in a split second signalling his vassal to fetch Ieyasu. Fortunately, Hideyoshi was low key spying on you, not trusting the new friendship that had blossomed between you and his dear vassal, Mitsunari. At first, he thought you were faking and that you were going to assassinate Mitsunari the moment he let his guard down. But that never happened, you laid seemingly lifeless in Mitsunari arms. 

That is when the stubborn man realized just how stupid he had been. How many times has Mitsunari only sung your praise, saying how wonderful and sweet you were, despite the rumour surrounding you.

Hideyoshi picked you up and carried you to your room where he tucked you in. He sat by your side the entire night. Making sure your room stayed warm and being prepared to feed you some food the moment you woke. Ieyasu had told him that you had collapsed as a result of your lack of self preservation skills. Of course he said it in a very much more Ieyasu way, mumbling about how silly you were under his breath, while handing Hideyoshi a care package for you filled with tea and sweets.  

It was the first time that Hideyoshi had truly looked at you, and he felt a pang of guilt spring from his chest. You looked so weak and fragile, you had dark circles under your eyes, and your skin looked so pale. He asked around only to discover that you had not eaten or slept for a few days due to being too absorbed in your work. It was then that he marched up to Nobunaga’s room, plan in mind.

You woke up the next morning in an unknown room, with Hideyoshi slumped over next to you, happily snoring away. Hazel eyes shot open when he heard you shuffling, and a rueful smile came to rest on the man’s face, “just where do you think you are going, young lady.” Halfway snuck out of the the door, you turned around slowly to see something you hadn’t seen since you arrived, Hideyoshi wearing a bright smile. His voice might have been stern, but his eyes were laced with worry and concern. After a long hour of being lectured about the importance of caring for yourself properly, Hideyoshi broke the news to you. That you would be staying at his manor from that point on wards, so he could care for you personally.

He left no room for arguments as before you knew it, this man was dragging you by the hand to a nearby tea-house. He ordered a feast for the two of you to share. You were still rather cautious around him, as you curiously eyed the food before you, “If you don’t dig in, I am going to have to hand-feed you like I do with Mitsunari.” He sent you a rather playfully charming smile, as he pushed a plate stacked to the high heavens with sweet buns towards you. You were quiet and reserved at first, but thanks to Hideyoshi bright, bubbly personality, he had you opening up in no time. 

He wished he could go back in time and smack himself for thinking you to be an intimidating bitch, cause that is most certainly not the person who is now before him. The two of you spent the rest of the day together as Hideyoshi insisted on making up for his mistrust for you, by buying you everything in the markets.

Since moving into his manor, Hideyoshi would spend every free moment he could get, getting to know you. He loved how bubbly and friendly you were. The two of you could legit laugh and chat for hours on end. Somewhere in your various conversations with the man, it came up that you loved the beach or rather swimming. This man was beaming in excitement at the fact that you were a fellow travelling lover. Since this discovery, you best be sure Hidemama took you on lakeside picnics and beach explorations all the time. He loved the way you would curiously look around and the excited smile you would wear. Whenever he was out scouting and found a beautiful body of water, he would be sure to take note of it and bring you back to it, on a surprise date. You never did get to swim on these dates due to Hideyoshi’s mama bear instincts and the lack of swimwear. However, that all changed one day

You and Hideyoshi had hiked to a surprise location, to have one of your classic picnic dates. Before you knew it, you stood before a small waterfall that trickled into a large crystal clear lake. Your eyes gleamed in delight, and you could help yourself. You removed the first few layers of your kimono leaving Hideyoshi to stare after you. This man was flabbergasted and went red as a beet, as you peeled away layer for layer of your clothing. You wasted no time in jumping into the clear water, happily swimming sound. What was even more shocking was the fact that you even managed to convince the overprotective mama to climb in and swim with you. The two of you swam and splashed about for hours.

Hideyoshi had long ago fallen in love with your bright sunny personality. And amid your splashing fight, he couldn’t help but pull you closer by the waist until the two of you were nose to nose. He looked down at you questioningly as he moved a stray lock of hair out of your face, to tuck it behind your ear. You gave him a small smile and inched up until your lips met in a sweet kiss.

Hideyoshi absolutely adored everything about you from your open-mindedness, to the way you would always think before you spoke. He loved that you were purposeful in everything you did. He also loved your honesty and willingness to help or give advice when needed. It’s no secret that the mother hen is a bit over the top when it comes to Nobunaga and his loyalty. You recognized this toxic trait relatively early on in your relationship, and from what the town’s woman has been saying, it was something that had causes him never to settle down and commit. 

The two of you had a rather open honest relationship, and Hideyoshi respected the fact that you brought this issue up. In fact, you were the one to help him with this slight toxic trait of his. And just as you have helped Yoshi with his negative qualities, he has helped you with yours. This boy knows how stubborn you can be and your reluctance in sharing personal information and your worries with your loved ones. Thus the two of you work on these issues together. Hidemama is always by your side to lend you support of any kind. And thanks to your open communication soon you are able to share your personal details with the man and confide in him whenever you are feeling sad or upset.

The two of you are an incredibly doting couple. Hideyoshi LOVES to spoil you any chance he can get. This man forever showers you in love and affection. You see, He has developed a system to help remind you to look after yourself. He makes sure to eat every meal with you, cause he loves your company and needs to make sure you are getting that good nutrition. He will always be the one to sneak up behind you and envelope you in a warm hug to drag you away from your tasks, to come to bed. Where he will trap you in his arms and shower you with love from dusk to dawn. Bonus points, he loves to take warm bubble baths with you, it is low key his favourite thing in the world to do. 

All in all, the two of you sweethearts are usually found nestle in each other’s arms. Hideyoshi loves to hold you in his arms while he works. Sometimes, he might even just pretend to work and spend the entire time watching you decipher your crosswords, all while wearing a fond smile. He will definitely drop sweet little kisses on your cheeks, forehead or nose during these quiet time. In fact he loves to drop little kisses on your face whenever he bumps into you in the hallways. He especially love to see the slight blush creep onto your cheeks whenever he surprises you with a lingering kiss. More so when the fellow warlords catch the sweet moment between the two of you. 

He loves to spend quiet evening with you, simply playing chess and chatting about anything and everything. Just as much as he reminds you to take a break from work he is thankful for you, for doing the same. He cant help but wear his bright smile whenever you plonk yourself down in his lap and distract him from work, while enveloping him in a warm hug and showering his face in tiny kisses. Loves it when you play with his hair while he rests his head on your shoulder returning your hug. He doesn't know what he has done right in his life to deserve someone as loving and tender as you

 He thanks his lucky stars every single day for having the privilege of meeting someone as kind and wonderful as you.

Other potential matches………….. Sasuke

I hope you enjoyed this dear and i hope you have the best day! Sending ya lots o hugs!🌻😱☺🥰🙈

[mysaldate]

(UM seduction methods anon here) Im in awe over how much you write for so many character, every day! Do you have any hc on how they live? (where they live? living conditions?) BUT please dont push yourself or anything either!

Thank you so much for worrying about me! I’m simply trying to do my very best for all of you! And thank you also for such wonderful and original requests!

The living conditions of the Upper Moons headcanons

Daki&Gyuutaro

This one will be short since we know quite a lot about them. They’ve lived in the red lights district for their whole lives. In the streets and usually with little more than just their clothes on but they had each other.

They stayed in even after they became a demons. No surprise, there’s plenty of food and nobody will really care if a couple girls disappears.

They don’t have separate rooms of course. These two are literally inseparable so of course they wouldn’t bother with something like that. There’s nobody to tease them about it either since people are not aware of there even being two of them and as for their fellow demons, those just don’t care. Except maybe for Douma but he wouldn’t tease them about it.

We got to see their room so there’s not much to be said about the decorations either. Daki is a stylish girl and she likes to show it off even in the way she sets up their room – even if nobody much gets to see it.

Kaigaku

He never really had much of a home per say. He became an orphan at a young age (if he wasn’t abandoned as a baby already) and then was chased out of Gyomei’s temple as well. Jigoro took him in but unfortunately enough, that relationship didn’t really work out either. Strangely enough, he felt most at home when he was outside, travelling from one mission to another.

After he became a demon, he stayed with Kokushibou for a short period of time but that was just before Muzan approved of his existence. After that, he had to find his own territory – which wasn’t really too hard anyway. He picked a run-down old house as his shelter from the sun for the day but he didn’t really care much how it looked, at least not at first.

It’s not that he wouldn’t like company but there’s not really anyone to share his place with. Humans wouldn’t hang out with him, other demons literally can’t. Other Upper Moons won’t.

He first didn’t care at all how the place looked but after some time, he decided that since he didn’t have anything to do during the day anyway, he could at least try to decorate the place a bit. So while the sun is up, he does little things inside, like sweeping the floors or painting the walls. He even learnt to sew to make curtains. And at night, when he’s not out hunting, he does other reparations. Even he is surprised by how much fun he can have, giving the place a personal touch.

Gyokko

Being an artist, it’s not unlikely that he lived in an open, arid room before he became a demon. Lots of sunlight too. And occassionally, a companion or two but those never really stuck around for long. His place was filled with various unfinished art pieces.

Now that he’s a demon, he can’t have the luxury of a sunny appartment. His pots, however, work as a little pocket dimension so that’s an upgrade? Of sorts? It doesn’t really have a set shape either, it’s a little bit like Nakime’s Infinity Fortress but shapeless, like the walls are made of water or another liquid and constantly change form.

He lives with plenty of goldfish. The entire place is nearly filled with aquariums of various shapes and forms. You know how people make mazes for hamsters, guinea pigs or even cats? Well, those are nothing when compared to the lengths Gyokko goes to for his fishies. It’s not just glass, coloured or plain, either. Sometimes he would use the nichirin blades or pretty hairpieces of his victims’ to decorate the elaborate fishtanks as well. If a human ever strays in, it’s the last thing they say.

Gyokko LOVES decoration. Aside from his fishtanks, he has numerous statues, paintings and just about everything else you can think of. Both handmade and stolen. For his handmade art, he usually uses bodies or bodyparts of his victims, possibly their blood too. It serves both as an artpiece and a food reserve just in case he ever gets to a position where he’s forced to starve. Surprisingly enough, his pots are great at preserving things. Oh, and let’s not forget about the amount of detail he puts to the exterior of his pots! 

Hantengu

Back when he was a human, he didn’t really have a home, naturally. He couldn’t afford it. And most people wouldn’t let him stay more than one night, chasing him out often with sticks and stones. He had to travel all the time and preferably somewhere far away where the rumors about him didn’t reach yet. Due to this, he becomes restless when he has to spend a long time in one place.

Now, as a demon, he also doesn’t stay in one place all the time. He usually sneaks in a house, kills the family and stays there for a few days before moving on to the next one. Some of his other personalities, namely Sekido and Karaku, find this a little useless and bothersome but they wouldn’t really fight him on it.

Speaking of whom, his other personalities split when they have time to be alone as well, taking care of him and the house. It’s a great way to keep him safe as well since at least one of them is always on guard for possible intruders. They get along... somewhat well. There are the usual conflicts between Sekido and the others. Karaku is careless about their cover, Yoroko likes to make pranks on them and Aizetsu tends to lock himself in his room for hours on end. Poor Sekido is left with the task of housework, making sure they don’t get discovered too soon, acting as the voice of reason... and he still has to go out hunting and stay on guard when it’s his turn.

Yoroko likes decorating stuff and Karaku loves to watch him but their taste is strange to everyone but them. Surprisingly enough, Hantengu as well as Aizetsu both can actually create rather beautiful tapestries and Zohakuten sometimes paints when Sekido is just too done with the three useless dorks.

Nakime

She used to be your typical hikikomori. Nakime spent all her time in her room, with nothing but a pile of books and her biwa. It wasn’t a big room either. While her room did have windows, she prefered them covered and read in the light of an oil lamp. As expected, it wasn’t too good for her eyes...

She lives in the Dimensional Infinity Fortress now. A place she can fully control and knows everything about, one that bends to her will and where she can transport anyone anywhere at any time, just as she wants. The only exception seems to be Muzan who comes and goes as he sees fit (at least until the current arc but y’all already know how I feel about that). It’s not that she minds it, she still knows where and when he enters and leaves and even if she didn’t, it’s not like he would ambush and kill her for no reason (right?).

Despite providing rooms specifically suited for the Upper Moons, she much enjoys her solitude. Even when they’re in and she has to keep an eye on them (I’m sorry, I’ll stop with the puns now), she keeps her distance. Try to annoy her, or even just seek her company, and you will mercilessly get thrown out. An exception, again, is Muzan. He doesn’t live there with  her though and only seeks her out when he has work for her to do.

Decoration of the rooms varies greatly, mostly based on what are they used for. Most of the Fortress is not decorated since Nakime sees no reason to waste time and effort on that. However, there are special parts that deserve special attention. Just as an example, there’s Muzan’s upside-down lab, Douma’s lotus pond, that traditional japanese area Kokushibou first appeared in... And of course, the execution platform that’s now decorated with the red of the Lower Moons’ blood.

Akaza

Again, we have a very good canon idea about his life as a human. First living with his father and then spending some time in the streets, he eventually ended up staying at Keizo’s house, taking care of Koyuki. He had his own room there too but it didn’t really matter because he spent most of his time by Koyuki’s side anyway. Rumor has it he dragged his futon to her once when she was having a nightmare and never moved out until she got all better.

He’s pretty much a street rat as of now, looking for challenges and new foes to fight for the most part. During the days, he usually stays still outside, in dense forests or deep caves. He’s not particularly picky. Sometimes he stays there during the night too, setting up a campfire and waiting for someone to wander close. For some reason, he doesn’t really like cities, especially during the festival season.

So yeah, he lives alone. At least usually he does. It’s not all that rare for Douma to find and bother visit him. He doesn’t want company. Getting attached would make him weak. The more people you care about, the easier it is to take advantage of you.

The only thing he cultivates in his surroundings is his own body. No, I’m not talking about the tattoos, though those certainly are a decoration as well. Rather, it’s his muscles and strength. However, he still prefers to have some manners over raw power, hence why he keeps refusing Douma’s more than generous offers to hunt down some girls together even if that could make him stronger.

Douma

Grew up in the temple in the forest. High up on a mountain overlooking a small town, it’s not a place with the most access to society. But cults are usually like that. When he was about three years old, his father planted two magnolia trees in the courtyard so that the place is a little more lively and the trees can grow tall to provide lots of shade in summer since the sun could be quite annoying. If only he knew...

Loyal as he is, Douma stays at the temple even now. He had it expanded a little and even had a lotus pond build right behind his room so he can calm his thoughts at least a bit after every session. He used to need it more than he does now, especially since he now also has the one made by Nakime that is way better and more spacious.

Canonically, there is at least one temple servant staying with Douma at the temple. But honestly, it wouldn’t be quite like him to satisfy himself with a single person. There’s probably a number of people taking care of the place, both temple servants and maidens. They also serve as a source of entertainment and possibly even as a last-resort snack just in case. There also used to be Kotoha and Inosuke for a short period of time but well...

While he is quite childish and it might sound just like him to go overboard with decorating stuff, that’s not entirely true. Really, the most he has is the skull closet with engraved golden door. That and the pot in which he planted Kotoha’s head but that one is a gift from Gyokko so it doesn’t really count.

Kokushibou

As with most of them, we were blessed with enough info on Kokushibou’s, or rather Michikatsu’s, homes. Growing up a samurai, he never had time to spare, little to no friends and a bride who was most likely found for him without him having any say in it, it’s really not that much of a surprise he would elect to leave it all behind and become a demon slayer since it gave him significantly more freedom.

Even as a demon, not much have changed. During the day, he stays at a mansion like the samurai lord he is, and at night, he goes out to hunt down the pests in the area, more often than not treating himself with a bountiful feast while he’s at it. He also has a room in the Infinity Fortress but like the majority of the Upper Moon demons (actually everyone but Douma), he enjoys his solitude way more.

He has a few servants at the mansion. Ones that get replaced every once in a while when they mysteriously disappear. But the salary is high enough to let any major rumors die out in a blink (I know, I promised, I’m sorry) so the most he has to deal with are whispers about him overworking his servants to the point where they rather abandon the money and run away under the cloak of the night.

You would probably find the house eerily plain but he’s used to it. The backyard is where he spends most of his time aside from his room and those two are the only actually decorated places in the house. And they’re still kept neat and practical for the most part. He rarely has anything that wouldn’t serve a purpose, both when it comes to items and people.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 46:  Beyond Their World

And so it began.

Regina was married. And as he'd watched her walk down the aisle, escorted by her father, and take the King's hand in her own while Snow White beamed, he'd had a vision. A beautiful vision. It was one that he hoped was not the doing of his own imagination but rather the result of the Seer that still lived in his very skin. The vision was of Regina, but not the scared little doe-eyed girl that was marrying the King if only to keep herself safe from persecution, no, certainly not. This Regina was older, darker. The white smile on her face was not one of true happiness but rather a smile of a trickster. She'd been dressed in black, her clothing showing off shapely curves, her hair twisted high into a knot on her head. In her hand was a heart, glowing red and beautiful and the name, the moniker that came to mind as he watched the priest pronounce them Man and Wife was not Queen Regina, but rather, The Evil Queen.

How reassuring.

And yet, there was still a long way to go before that vision was achieved; he simply knew it. The lessons that followed it confirmed it.

Regina was different than Cora in several ways, some good and some bad. Her strength, the magic that flowed through his new student, was powerful, far more than her mother's. But getting her to use it…now that was a tricky task. Cora had had such a difficult life she'd been determined to do anything she could to get ahead. That determination was her motivation, and Cora had taken in every lesson he'd ever taught her, taking it upon herself to quickly master what she'd never had access to before.

Regina had no such motivation. True, her childhood with Cora had not been an easy or enjoyable one. But where her father, Daniel, and even her horses were concerned, she'd had a much better life than Cora. The good had outweighed the bad. And now with Cora secure in Wonderland, the guards searching the Kingdom hopelessly for her after Regina had told them she'd stepped out and never returned, there was very little he had to work with. Her father was with her, happy and healthy, getting along splendidly with the King. Her horses were safe and at her disposal. And Daniel…he, or rather, his body was a problem. Still kept protected by Regina's preservation spell, she was often distracted by that body. It gave Regina hope, and he realized after a short amount of time that it wasn't for power or even protection she was learning magic, but rather with the hope that one day she might bring her love back to life. She was wrong, of course, in many ways. She needed hate and devastation to fuel her as he'd seen thus far. Not hope.

All he really had to work with after Cora's banishment, was Regina's current marriage. Being married to the King was not something Regina was happy about. There were perks, and what came with the union was why she'd ultimately followed through, but it wasn't what she'd hoped. And how could it have been? Married again barely a year after his wife had died?! Leopold was too attached to Snow to really care for his new wife the way a husband should. Regina knew it. And she felt it as well. He encouraged those emotions, not only because he knew what would come, but because it helped egg her on now.

Cora's spell over the mirrors turned out to have been sealed using blood magic, and he was quick to convince Regina that it would be smart to undo it, but the actual act had been something of a challenge.

"But then…if I do this…won't people be able to see in to me? Dressing or…or bathing?!"

"The answer to that is simple…" in midair, he conjured a blanket and threw it over the mirror they were working with. "No sight…no sound…but as it is, if you ever found yourself with a need to get in communication with someone, say…your teacher…you'd be able to see, but not hear…very poor way of communication if you ask me.

"But then…" he removed the blanket quickly. "What does it matter? If it makes you uncomfortable? It's not as if you're not already watched constantly by the King…by Snow White…the servants even…"

"But…I am watched by them. Constantly, it's as if they don't ever stop looking in on me."

Indeed, it was getting more and more difficult for them to find time and places to practice for even just a few minutes before someone stormed in to demand her time.

"So…wouldn't it be nice to have the upper hand, to give them a taste of their own medicine? To watch the King as he works? To overhear every last word dear Snow White says to everyone?"

A sneer grew over Regina's mouth. "Show me how!"

And with that, Cora's spell was undone. Sight and sound into Regina's life was restored. But it wasn't always easy. One problem Regina had that Cora never did was time. Engaged to her Prince in his castle, she'd always managed to find time for magic. But as the acting Queen, step-mother to a young girl, and wife to the King, her schedule was packed tight. In the end, the mirrors were helpful to communicate even if all they had was ten minutes or so. The rest of the time he spent back at his castle, waiting for the next summons, plotting his next lesson…and listening to Jefferson.

He had to admit that his own education was growing considerably as well, thanks to the boy. He was becoming something of a regular occurrence in his life. He never returned with news of the curse, but at least he never came back from an excursion empty-handed either. He often brought him strange and interesting items from other realms that he visited. Useless to him or not, money was never a concern, so he bought them from him just to hear the stories and absorb as much information as he could about these other places. Some of them had such strange customs and items.

"Stethoscope…" Jefferson explained as he sat upon the table, allowing him to examine the odd object in his hands now. "Pinched it from the Doc when he wasn't looking in the Land Without Color."

"A doctor, you say…"

"Yeah, about the only interesting part of that world if you ask me. He's trying to resurrect the dead. But I don't go there often; it's difficult to blend in during the daylight."

"And why might that be?"

"Well, I didn't name it the Land Without Color for its rainbows," he retorted from his place on top of the table. "It's without color…black, and white, and gray all over, and I'm…well, not without color."

"Yes, yes, I see, you needn't have added that last little bit," he growled as he paid him for the object.

On and on, he could talk about realms far from this singular one he lived in. Realms without end it sometimes seemed, though he did promise him that there was an end, an edge. One realm in particular, where time stood still and the sun hung in the sky in eternal sunset.

"Or maybe it's sunrise? Ah well, I don't like to go there either really so it doesn't really matter," he commented. "It's bad for my health! Time moves differently in all these realms and there especially it's incredibly fast. I spent a week there once, laying low after stealing a ruby from Agraba, I was really after some scissors, but it was a nice consolation prize. Anyway, when I went back to try and sell the thing they nearly killed me again, it was still the night I'd stolen it!"

"How curious…" he muttered absent-mindedly. On and on, Jefferson could talk about realms when he wanted him to and when he didn't want to. He was attempting to test the potion he was working on while Regina was out touring the Kingdom with her new family, and Jefferson was chattering on and on by his side. This was one of those times he really would rather have concentrated than listen. "Tell me, Jefferson, you don't like Wonderland, you don't like The Land Without Color, and you don't like this Edge of Realms…where do you prefer to go?"

Jefferson stared at him blankly for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "Oz isn't bad. And the Land of Untold Stories is pretty interesting, not to mention all it requires is a key and not my hat to get there. London is quite profitable too. To be honest, I like anywhere I can make money easily!"

Cities of emerald, Wonderland, and at least three different realms that each had a very different copy of a city called "London", where magic was different in each one; he'd never admit it, but sometimes thinking about the realms made him dizzy. It was all fascinating, truly it was. He welcomed the information. What wasn't always welcomed was Jefferson's long stays at the castle between trips. He wasn't sure how the boy had gotten the invitation to stay at his castle like he was some kind of teenager who didn't want to go home to his parents, but he knew that he was growing accustomed to being at work and seeing Jefferson sudden appear seemingly out of nowhere and haunt the halls of his castle before he suddenly disappeared just as mysteriously as he'd arrived.

In truth his yammering was only a problem for his sanity. The boy did seem to recognize some boundaries, though he did have a habit of testing his luck.

"Any sign of my curse?"

"Nothing on that," he sighed, sounding disappointed himself. "I ask everywhere I go, but mostly all I get for it is blank stares. If you had more information…"

"If I had more information, I wouldn't need to send you out looking to and fro now, would I?"

"Just a suggestion. It's not like looking for curses is in my typical wheelhouse. I usually specialize in rare items that glitter and make me money. But I'll keep looking. Never know what you might find out there. Last week I actually discovered a world where pigs fly. If that's possible, anything is!"

As Jefferson muttered his last word his head snapped up. Someone had just come onto the castle grounds. Two souls, one human and the other...at the speed the individual was approaching it must have been a horse. The Seer said nothing about the unexpected visit. It was probably a nobody coming to make a deal. He hoped they were more interesting than Jefferson, or at the very least less annoying. They'd be to the door any second now.

"Wait here and stay out of sight!" he snapped at the boy when he finally heard the knock on the door. With a wave of his hand, the objects he had on the table in the great room vanished back up to his workstation.

"What you think I'm not used to the rules of your business by now?!" Jefferson hollered after him as he left the room. He didn't panic. Annoying as he was, Jefferson was a smart man and knew better than to stay around when he wasn't wanted. When he returned to the room with his "business", as Jefferson had called it, he knew the boy would be gone from sight. Or else he'd find someone else to work that hat for him.

[rockhoochie]

All In

THIS WORK IS FOR PERSONS 18 YEARS AND OLDER.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean (No Wincest) 

WC: ~8,000

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit sexual content, explicit language, dom/sub undertones, dom!Sam, sub!Reader, name-calling, unprotected sex (wrap it up, peeps!) dirty filthy smut, and a teensy bit of fluff.

Summary: Y/N has been riding with the Winchesters for months, falling for both Sam and Dean. Among the twinkling lights of Las Vegas, she uncovers a secret they’ve been keeping from her - one that may change all of their lives in a way she could never imagine.

Y/N Submit: Interactive Fics (What is this?)

Author’s Notes: Whew, this escalated quickly! Written for the wonderful @squirrel-moose-winchester ‘s 1K Make it Dirty Gif Challenge. My gif is embedded in the text. This is the first threesome I’ve ever written, so...well, I hope I did okay! I love your comments and reblogs, so if you enjoyed this please let me know! Special thanks to my beta - my husband. And as always, thank YOU so much for reading! 

**My work is not to be copied, altered, or shared to other sites without my express written permission**

We’d finally rolled into Vegas in the late afternoon. After three weeks on the Rugaru hunt from hell, all three of us were beyond ready for a break. Thanks to Sam and his newly acquired platinum card, he splurged on a beautiful two-room suite. Compared to our usual accommodations it felt foreign, almost too luxurious and self-indulgent. But hell, if we didn’t deserve it.  

Sam and Dean settled into the room with two queen beds, letting me have the king room to myself - along with it’s attached, private bathroom that included a whirlpool tub. The only quid-pro-quo was that I let Dean use it at least once.

After stuffing ourselves at the hotel buffet we each went our separate ways. Sam had tried to talk me into going hiking with him at some nature preserve, while Dean rambled something about Baby needing a new set of rims and wanting someone to blow on his dice. Insisting that neither activity interested me, I told them I was just going to hang out by the hotel pool.

I lied.

I really needed to get away from the two of them for a while, and I needed to be alone.

After shutting the door to my room, I flopped down on the soft, pillow-top mattress with a moan that would rival any porn star’s.

Sam and Dean Winchester crashed into my life nearly a year ago, after rescuing my careless ass from the throes of a witch’s curse. I had been taken miles from my current hideout and my ever faithful but piece of crap car, with nothing but the clothes on my back and about two bucks in my pocket. They took me to the bunker, set me up with some gear and a couple of new credit cards, and let me recover from the powerful spell that had nearly killed me. The night before I’d planned to be on my way, a solid lead on a werewolf pack they’d been tracking came in, and I’d offered to lend them an extra pair of hands.

It turned out that the three of us made an impeccable team, taking out the pack in record time with minimal damage to ourselves. Soon after, case after case seemed to find us, as though the universe didn’t want to allow me to part ways with them. And amidst all the dirt, blood, and fire we left in our wake, a loving friendship grew fast and strong between us.

I felt more at home with them that I ever had anywhere. Unlike the other hunters I'd known, they never underestimated me, knowing I could hold my own but never failing to hold me up when I needed them to. They had faith in my strengths and reinforced my weaknesses, all the while being ever the gentlemen. Weeks flew by, quickly building into months; months that earned me a comfortable place in the Impala’s back seat, my own room at the bunker and an insistent invitation to join them in Vegas.

All served up by two of the most gorgeous hunters ever to salt and burn their way across this earth.

Living and hunting with Sam and Dean had become delectable torture. The two of them unknowingly branded the most indecent, lecherous fantasies into my brain, reigniting a sex drive had been shelved once I’d started hunting. The more time we spent together - on the road, sharing close quarters, in small towns and seedy bars, or engrossed in late night research sessions - the more my imagination went wild. There were mornings - too many mornings - that I struggled to look them in the eye after what I’d done with one or both of them in my dreams.

And it was getting harder and harder to push the thoughts away. Every day I spent with them filled me with more desire than I’d ever felt in my life.

There was Sam, with his hazel eyes that switched their dominant shade to match whatever color flannel he wore, with his sweet smile and gentle laugh, those sharp cheekbones, long fingers, and hard, chiseled body…the several times I’d seen him working out shirtless had me sprinting to my room and my hand sliding straight into my pants.

There was Dean, with his sense of humor, those crinkles that formed on the corners of his forest green eyes any time he grinned with his uncannily perfect lips, freckles that adorably dusted his nose, his bowed legs and firm, broad chest…everything he did, from the way he devoured a bacon cheeseburger to the way his muscles strained when he worked on Baby, left me wet and aching.

God, what I wanted them to do to me...things I never imagined that I would want or find pleasure in. To let my guard down, to be at their mercy and obey any sinful command they issued...a single night of that, and I would die a happy woman. Maybe it was because they made me feel safe. Protected, yet respected. I trusted them with my life - I would trust them implicitly with my body.

But I knew it could never happen, with either of them. On the off chance something ever did transpire with one of them, I knew I’d still be wistfully attracted to the other. I’d long ago given up on trying to decide which man I wanted more, so I let myself get lost envisioning the three of us twisted together. Since nothing would ever come of it, what was the harm in a little X-rated daydreaming? I knew we loved one another, but I had fallen in love with them, and I was sure neither Sam or Dean saw me in the same light. Playful flirting aside, we were just three hunters who couldn’t possibly maintain normal relationships. But that was this life. Saving people, hunting things...it was a lonely business when it came to finding love.

So, I resigned myself into letting out my pent-up frustrations on subpar one-night stands whenever I had the rare chance, which always left me less than satisfied.  More often, I settled for burning through batteries and putting myself in danger of developing a nasty case of trigger finger.

Our last hunt had almost killed me. Smack in the middle of Northwest Nowhere, there had only been one motel with one available room. At least there had been two beds, and at least we were comfortable enough to take turns sharing. But the nights either of them was next to me - Dean’s leathery, oaky scent taunting me, his warmth just out of my reach... the way Sam would sleep curled on his side, creating a space that seemed made for me to be nestled in... I had nearly gone insane. One shot of whiskey away from opening my mouth and making a huge mistake.

Which is why I desperately needed to go out tonight. After weeks on the road with the world’s finest embodiments of walking sex, I needed to get laid.

No, I needed to get fucked. Hard.

Hopefully somewhere in the swarm of Las Vegas inhabitants and tourists I could find a decent guy to sate me for a while. Someone tall and built, someone kind and funny and smart. A girl can dream, right?

Before parting ways, the three of us had planned to meet back up in the room, grab a late dinner at a restaurant with actual linen tablecloths, then head out to a club. Neither Sam or Dean had seemed too keen on the club idea, but instantly changed their tune after I suggested just going out on my own. I knew it was involuntary, protective instinct on their part - and honestly, it kind of turned me on - but hopefully after a few drinks, they’d each find themselves a distraction and leave me to my own devices.

Rolling off the bed, I called the front desk and had them send up a bottle of merlot. There had been a time, years ago, when all I would drink was wine. I could barely remember the last time I had it, since whiskey in all its forms is a vital part of a hunter’s toolkit. Fresh out of Bactine for the gash that Wraith gave you? Pour some Johnny Walker on it. Need to anesthetize yourself to dig a bullet out of your flesh? Nothing does it quite like six shots of Jack Daniels. Need to calm yourself after seeing a Winchester walk out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel? Jim Beam to the rescue.

‘Hunter’s Helper’ indeed.

A knock on the door signaled my alcohol delivery. The room service attendant, a pretty Indonesian woman about my age and height, greeted me with my bottle, two glasses, and a smile. I let her in to open the wine and pour it into the delicate glasses, filling them halfway while we exchanged pleasantries. Once she left, I unceremoniously dumped one into the other, grabbed the bottle, and sipped on my nearly overflowing glass as I made my way into the bathroom.

Placing my drink on the vanity, I sat on the side of the tub and turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature and letting the water flow over my fingers for a moment. Then I stripped out of my road-worn clothes, tossing them in a pile in the corner. Glass in hand, I stood and sipped, naked, waiting for the bath to fill. The wine was already sending a pleasant flush through me as I watched the steam rise. Jesus, how long had it been since I had a bath and not a shower? Maybe Dean could figure out how to put a tub in the shower room at the bunker...

That one little thought shot straight to my core, and now all I could picture was him, his brother and I in a slick, bubbly bath together...hot and wet, Sam’s lips trailing along my neck, his hand cupping and teasing one breast while Dean's mouth attended to the other, his fingers on a slow but steady course to reach between my legs…

Fuck.

I gulped down the rest of my merlot, poured myself a refill, and shut the faucet off. Setting the jet timer to 20 minutes, I slid into the tub, placing my glass on the ledge with a heavy sigh. Apparently even getting away from them was useless. For a brief moment, I considered letting the pulsing water beat against something other than my stiff muscles.

Instead, I decided to stave it off, in hopes of actual human contact. If I did manage to find a decent guy tonight, I almost pitied him - I was so worked up and tense, craving the weight of a body on me so badly that it would probably be over in ten minutes.

I let myself relax, forcing the thoughts of being wedged between two slippery Winchesters out by mentally reciting random incantations and spells for practice as I finished my wine.

The timer seemed to click off much too quickly, bringing the swirling bathwater to a stop. But between the heat and the wine, I was flushed red hot and a little lightheaded. I pulled myself out of the tub slowly, wrapping one of the plush towels around me and headed back to my bed. I turned the air conditioning up higher, letting the frigid breeze dry up the sweat that rolled down my cheeks.

Drowsiness dug its claws into me, drawing out a heavy yawn as I dug through my bag. I’d get dressed up later - for now, my ‘hoping-to-get-some-tonight’ underwear was all I needed. It was my one set of anything remotely resembling lingerie I had - after all, no need to be sexy while dripping in Ghoul goo or decapitating vampires. It was simple, a lacy, white cotton bra with thin black straps that sported a little black bow between the cups, and matching cheeky panties with a twin ribbon at the top. Unpretentious and not at all racy, but as I put them on I found myself feeling a little sexy for a change, unable to help myself from wondering if Sam and Dean would approve.

God, I needed sleep.

Eyeing the soft, complimentary bathrobe hanging in my closet, I wrapped it around me, then flung myself back on the bed. The clock on the nightstand read 5:02pm. I had a few hours before they’d get back and slipping into unconsciousness seemed like the best way to shut my brain off. Wrapping my arms around a spare pillow, I burrowed my face in it, breathing in the faint scent of lavender. This hotel was spoiling me. Within minutes, I was fast asleep.

I woke to the murmur of Sam’s and Dean’s voices outside my bedroom door. A little groggy from the wine and nap, I peered at the clock. Shit, it was after eight already. Why didn’t they wake me up? Maybe they tried and I was so out they didn’t want to bother me? After a full body stretch, I swung my legs over the bed and shuffled to the door. I could hear that they were in the middle of what seemed to be a lively conversation, and when I heard my name, I slowed my stride. Curiosity got the best of me, so I leaned close to the door and eavesdropped.

“...going out to a club with her, I don’t know.”

“What’s the big deal? Look, we can't hold her back from living her own life.”

“I don’t think I can stomach watching all these Vegas douchebags hit on her. The dicks she picks up - none of ‘em are good enough for her.”

Holy shit, they don’t think I’m here.

“She has to watch you hit on girls all the time, Dean. Bartenders...waitresses...Gas n’ Sip clerks...morticians...librari-”

“Not lately she hasn’t! I can hardly even look at other women anymore. And none of the guys she gets gives her what she wants. I hear ‘em leaving her room after two hours...or less.”

“How do you know what she wants? Has she actually told you her sexual fantasies?”

“Not exactly...kinda borrowed her laptop one night, after she went to bed. She forgot to close a couple of tabs and…”

“And?”

Oh god, no... please not…

“Chick gettin' spanked, tied up a little bit...callin’ the guy ‘Sir’, begging him to get her off with a -”

“Okay, okay, got it. Look, just because she likes watching it doesn't necessarily mean she likes to actually do that stuff.”

Too bad that Rugaru didn’t get me, because I am going to die from embarrassment anyway.

“Right. That's why you watch the same shit, because you only like to see it, not do it. Maybe she watches it because she wants to try it.”

“What else was she watching?”

“Two guys...one girl...”

“Really? Huh...”

Shit. Shit, shit shit. I’m going to have to move out. I can never look at these two again.

“I mean, a woman like Y/N... she needs to be treated right.”

“All right. What would you have to offer her that any other guy wouldn't?”

“How about the best night of her goddamn life?”

What?

“Wow, you’ve got a pretty high opinion of yourself.”

“Well, ever see a girl leave my room after an hour? Or yours for that matter? Doubt that she can act out her fantasies with random townies. Better to try that stuff out with someone you trust.”

“And I suppose you think you’d be the perfect guy for her.”

“Either one of us would be. Ah come on, Sammy, you love her as much as I do, I know you still think about it. Y/N’s a fuckin’ knockout.”

“Of course I love her, but we work with her. Hey, we’ve talked about this, it’s better for all of us to just to let it go. So no, I haven’t even thought about -”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“‘Excuse me?”

“You still moan her name in your sleep!”

“Well at least I’m doing it unconsciously!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m sorry, has she been showering with you lately, or is your hand’s name ‘Y/N’? You’d better keep it down or we might lose her.”

Oh my god. Am I really hearing this? Sam and Dean think about me this way? Want me? Love me?

“What can I say? She's smokin’ hot, sassy, smart as hell and a damn good hunter. All I know is I’m not sure what I wouldn't give for just one night with her. And I know you’re still thinking the same thing. “

“You don't know what I'm thinking”.

“Come on, man. You're thinking about wrapping that tie you're wearing around her wrists and smacking her beautiful, perfect ass while I'm busy licking every inch of her body.”

“Dude!”

“Jesus, sleeping next to her in that shitty motel...I almost said something, Sammy. You know, maybe we should just lay it all out, let her know how we feel.”

This is a joke. They know I’m here and they’re playing an evil practical joke on me and I’m going to kick both their asses six ways from Sunday...

“Dean, this...this is so not normal.”

“Name one damn thing about our life that is!  We don’t get normal - never will. Plus, we’ve shared before...that chick in Dayton, that stripper in St. Louis -”

I’m dreaming. I’m still in that bed, drunk from half a bottle of wine and I’m dreaming.

“Yeah, but that was just...sex. This is Y/N.”

“Exactly. She needs us, and dammit Sam... we need her, and you know it. I say we go all in.”

“I don’t know...do you really think she’d be okay with it? I mean, what if she freaks out and runs, thinks she’s been living with a couple of psychopaths?”

“We are psychopaths...this line of work... And at least we’d know. I can’t hold out much longer, man. One of these days I’m gonna open my dumb mouth and it’s just gonna come out.”

“So what are we supposed to do?”

“You should ask her.”

“Me? Why me? You’re the one with the god-awful pickup lines that surprisingly seem to work.”

”I just think she’d rather hear it from you.”

“I can’t just ask her flat out, ‘hey, wanna have a threesome’!”

“Well...one of us needs to do it or it ain’t ever gonna happen... Come on.”

“Dean, you can’t be serious...”

“As a heart attack. Let’s go, two outta three.”

“Fine.”

Sam and Dean Winchester were in love with me.

Sam and Dean Winchester were playing Rock-Paper-Scissors to decide who was going to ask if they could both fuck me.

I’d heard enough.

“You know I can hear you both,” I shouted through the door.

 Then I pushed it open.

There they were, both sitting on the sofa in their Fed suits, hands readied for their next round of roshambo. Sam swept his head in my direction, eyebrows raising in surprise as Dean quickly came to the realization that they were both busted.

Sam cleared his throat loudly and stood up. “Hey, Y/N… we were just...we thought you were still down by the pool and... we, uh...you still need some time to get dressed?” He was beet red, nervously running a hand through his chestnut hair.

My lips curved in a smile. “Unless I didn’t hear the two of you correctly, I don’t need to bother.”

Dean leaned back against the couch. “Y/N/N... exactly how much did you hear?”

Sam sat back down as I walked slowly toward them. Apprehension kept me from confessing everything that I’d heard them say. It felt too good to be true and I didn’t trust it yet.  

“Let’s see...something about a threesome and the best night of my life?”

For all the talking they had been doing just moments before, they seemed to be at a loss for words. I folded my arms across my chest.

“Well?” I quipped playfully.

“Y/N, we’re so sorry,” Sam stammered. “We just...we didn’t think you were here and we were…it’s not...shit...” He bent his head forward, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Guys, I’m not mad. Not one bit.”

Dean grinned like a Cheshire cat as Sam looked back up at me with surprise.

“Really?”

I could feel myself blush as I nodded my head ‘yes’, fiddling with the tie on my robe. “So, what’s happens now?”

They both glanced at each other, speaking in that silent way that was always indiscernible to me but crystalline clear between them.

Dean patted the empty space on the cushion between him and his brother. “Why don’t you have a seat, sweetheart?”

I settled between them, my pulse pounding, straining to keep my composure and not throw myself at both of them right then and there.

Dean brushed a finger across my temple, pushing away a few strands of my hair. “So you’d really be okay with this? This is something you’d want?”

I turned to Sam, resting my hand on his knee. “It’s something I’ve wanted for a long time.”

His hand covered mine and gently squeezed. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever done anything like this before?”

“No. But you two have?”

“A few times.”

Dean was running his hand up and down my arm, keeping uncharacteristically quiet.

“How about the things you like to watch?” Sam continued. “Being...dominated a little? Is that what you really like?”

Plush lips ghosted against my ear as the hand stroking my arm moved to my leg, still over the fabric of my bathrobe, gently massaging from my knee to the middle of my thigh.

“The thought of it, watching it... I wouldn’t mind trying it for myself. Do you like to do it?”

“To a point. But we don’t have to do that tonight- we can just keep it vanilla if-”

“Oh hell no, Winchester,” I winked, melting into Dean’s touch, “I’m all in.”

Sam grinned. “Okay. We’ll start slow. But at any time, any time at all, if you don’t like something, just say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ and we’ll move on. Is that okay?”

My eyes were fluttering shut as Dean’s caress became stronger, my head reeling at the thought of what was coming.

“Y/N, did you hear me?” Sam asked softly.

“Yeah, I heard. I say no, you stop.”

“One other thing. Dean and I, we kind of have...an arrangement when we do this. We’ll both be in this, but...well, I call the shots.”

I looked into Sam’s eyes and was met with an intensity I’d never seen before - not on a hunt, not after a kill, not from a win...it was unadulterated, predatory lust.

“Meaning?”

A wicked grin stretched across his lips. “Dean,” he said, “stop touching her.”

Immediately, Dean lifted his hand and pulled himself away.

Sam cupped my face in his hands, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “It means, Y/N, that I’m in charge and you both do what I say when I say it. Dean gets leeway, but not you. Do you understand?”

I could feel myself trembling, excitement and arousal and the thrill of exploring uncharted territory with the two men I loved coursing through every cell in my body. All I could manage was a nod.

Sam tutted with disapproval, tipping my chin upwards. “Rule one, Y/N/N, I ask you a question, you answer with your words.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes Sam, I understand.”

“Rule two, you don’t get to call me Sam. You call me Sir, Daddy, or Master. Your choice. And that,” he said pointing to his brother, “is Dean. Only ‘Dean’. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he hummed, burying his nose in my hair, his lips ghosting along my neck. “And besides Y/N, what should we call you?”

“I liked you calling me a good girl.”

“Okay. Is there anything else you’d like to be called?”

“Whatever you and Dean want to call me, Sir.”

“Are you sure?” Sam took my face in his hands, leaning in, barely brushing his lips against mine. His massive hand slid up the back of my neck, gripping a fistful of hair but not pulling, the buzz of his low, seductive voice vibrating against my lips. “We’ll call you a good girl, Y/N, but what if we call you a naughty little whore? What happens if I call you my slut or Dean calls you his fucktoy? Would that be okay, princess?”

“Yes Sir, all of it,” I breathed, waiting for Sam’s mouth to fully claim mine, ready for the deep, probing kiss I had only been able to dream about until now.

“All right then,” he said, pulling away. “Now how about you stand up for us?”

Biting back a huff of disappointment I complied, lifting myself off the couch. Both brothers were smirking, Sam with one foot propped up on his knee, fingers steepled against his lips. Dean leaned back and loosened his tie, legs open, displaying the impressive bulge between them.

“Dean, where should we start with her?”

“I think she should take off that robe and let us see what we’ve been missing all this time.”

“Take it off, Y/N.”

I tugged at the already loose knot, gasping as the robe opened and the cool air of the room hit my bare skin. I shrugged it completely off, letting it fall to the floor.

“Damn, sweetheart,” Dean rasped.

“Very nice Y/N. Now turn around. Let us have a good look at you.

Pivoting, I turned my back to them, craning my neck over my shoulder to see their reactions.

“You were right, Dean. She does have a perfect ass. I can’t wait until she misbehaves and I get to spank it.”

I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my lips as wondered how the hell I was still standing.

“Christ baby girl, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Y/N,” Sam said, “Thank Dean for the nice compliment.”

“Thank you, Dean,” I purred. “And thank you, Sir.”

“Behaving so well already. Turn back around.”

I turned again to directly meet their stares. Sam leaned back, and I could see his prominent erection twitching under the fabric of his pants. Dean already had his hand on his, dragging his palm against himself.

“Y/N, I want you to sit next to Dean.”

Dean’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as I sat as close to him as possible, placing my hand on his thigh. His hand floated from between his legs to my lace-shielded breasts, his lips attaching to my neck as he kneaded and teased each one. My head fell back with a moan when his hand traveled downwards, my hips rocking back and forth in anticipation of being touched where I needed it the most.

“Hmm, someone’s eager,” he mumbled against my neck.

“Dean, please…Sir, can Dean touch me?”

“He is touching you, princess.”

“Need more,” I whimpered as Dean’s finger trailed just under the waistline of my panties.

“She does,” Dean husked, placing his warm hand against the fabric of my covered sex. “Can already feel how wet she is for us.” My body jerked with a gasp as he pressed against the wetness that was beginning to seep through my underwear.

Sam shifted his position, giving himself a better angle to watch his brother tease me. “All right. Go ahead.”

Dean finally slipped his calloused hand under my panties, dragging his finger just along my slit.

“Christ, she’s fucking soaked.”  He sunk into my entrance, pumping a few times before tracing my folds and circling my clit. I gripped his knee hard, letting out a moan.

“I want to see it,” Sam ordered, rising from the couch and seating himself on the cocktail table directly in front of Dean and me.  “Get those panties off of her and give them to me. Then Y/N, spread those legs nice and wide so I can watch Dean play with you.”

I raised my hips as Dean pulled my underwear off of me, sliding them over my feet and tossing them to his brother. Sam caught them, feeling the damp material between his fingers as Dean slipped and crooked two fingers inside me, the heel of his hand pressing against my clit, my hips rocking hard against his hand. A sudden rush of heat coursed through me, quickly igniting into a whirling blaze.

“Wow Y/N, you are excited,” Sam marveled, raising my panties to his face and taking a deep breath. “And you smell absolutely amazing...we’ll definitely have to get a taste. How does she feel?

“Fuckin’ perfect. So warm and wet...nice and tight...this sweet little pussy’s gonna take our cocks so good…”

The way they were using me and the things they were saying, the audible heaviness of Sam's breathing and Dean's touch, and the simple fact that this was actually happening crashed over me like a rogue wave.

“Dean, fuck!” I yelped, my orgasm surging through me without warning, my walls pulsing around Dean’s fingers as I slammed against his hand harder.

He worked me through it, his head nuzzled against my neck until I relaxed, closing my eyes as I caught my breath.

“Uh oh,” he chuckled.

I let my eyes flutter open to see Sam's boring into mine, his lips pursed and jaw set firm, fingers tapping against the tabletop.

“Needy little whore, coming so fast...I'll let it go just this once, since you didn't give me time to tell you the last rule.” Sam leaned forward, cupping my chin in his hand. “You tell us if you're about to come, and you ask for permission to come. You do not come unless I say you can. Even if it's Dean's fingers, tongue or cock inside you, you ask me. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, Sir. I’m sorry Sir.”

“Don’t let it happen again. Now give him a kiss and thank him for getting you off.”

Dean reached for me and pulled me into his lap so I was straddling him. He didn’t give me time to open my mouth for anything other than the bruising kiss he delivered. Finally, finally feeling his tongue slide against mine was glorious - from the way he tasted to the way he cradled my head in his hand, how the other splayed against the small of my back, pressing me closer into him. I all but disappeared into the kiss, coherent thought an impossibility, grinding against his hard, covered cock. Dean released my lips and kissed down my jawline, under my chin, making his way to my collarbone. Flushed and panting, I tilted my head back to give his soft, perfect lips better access.

I was snapped back into reality when I felt a hot, hard smack on my ass. Then both of Sam’s large hands curled over my shoulders.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he rumbled.

“Thank you, Dean,” I uttered, unable to stop myself from sliding along his hard length. “Thank you for making me come.”

Dean flashed a wolfish smile. “There’s our good girl. Did you like it, sweetheart? Me making you come while Sam watched?”

Sparks of arousal were igniting through me as I continued to rock against him. “Yes, Dean.”

He replied with a grunt, jerking his hips upwards, watching my bare pussy drag against him. “Feel how fucking hard I am for you, Y/N? Oh, just wait till I get this inside you...”

“Enough,” Sam said. “We’re moving this to your room. Dean, get that bra off of her first.”

His thick fingers made quick work of unhooking the clasps and removing the white cotton from my body. In a flash, I was lifted off the couch, saddled in Dean’s arms as he followed his brother to my room. Sam stood on one side of the bed, shrugging off his suit jacket and unraveling his tie. Dean stood with me opposite him, shooting his brother a look.

“Middle of the bed,” Sam directed.

Dean set me down gently, making sure my head was propped up on the pillows before getting to work on removing his own coat and tie. Sam was unbuttoning his shirt, strolling over to the foot of the bed while his eyes raked over my naked body.

“Knees up, legs open, Y/N,” Sam commanded, completely removing his shirt. “My turn to play with that pretty pussy.”

Despite how weak they felt, I managed to lift my knees. Keeping my feet flat against the mattress, I widened the space between them as much as I could.

Anyone outside looking in may have thought I was being demeaned, objectified, employed as nothing but a sexual plaything for two men to take advantage of. But I knew it meant I truly held the authority. By doing everything they wanted, they gave me everything I needed. I wasn’t being degraded, I was being worshipped.

And I loved every single, sinful second of it.

A shaky sigh floated from my throat as I watched a shirtless Sam Winchester begin to unfasten his belt. Even the slight flex of his muscles as he made his minimal movements set my every nerve ending afire. I kneaded one of my breasts, pinching my nipple as he pulled his belt off, feeling a flood of wetness gather in my core.

Sam shook his head, folding his belt in half, the buckle clinking. “Y/N, there's no need to touch yourself. That's what we're here for, isn't it Dean?”

“Got that right,” Dean muttered, sliding next to me. He was already undressed, his thick hard cock pressing against my hip.

Sam tapped the length of leather against his palm. “Unless you're an impatient little slut who can't get enough from the two of us?”

I let my hand fall to the side, brushing right against Dean’s erection. “No, Sir.”

“There’s our girl,” Dean murmured, replacing my hand with his, rolling the stiff, pink peak of my nipple between his thumb and finger. “We’ve got you.”

His words were muffled as he took my neglected breast into his mouth, every stroke of his tongue and little nip from his teeth pumping jolts of electricity through every vein in my body. He rocked against me, the warm precome dripping from his cock slicking my skin. I took hold of him, feeling him pulse in my hand as I stroked him slowly, drawing out quiet growls that vibrated against my breast.

The bed sank as Sam crawled on, kneeling, each of his hands running over my thighs. I let out a groan as I felt my own wetness trickle between my legs.

“Just came not five minutes ago and she’s dripping wet already,” Sam hummed. “I think we have our work cut out for us, Dean.” My grip on Dean’s cock tightened as Sam licked, kissed and nipped at the skin of my inner thighs, deliberately avoiding my aching, sodden core. I writhed against the mattress, my clit throbbing, begging for attention as small, desperate sounds tumbled from my lips.

I nearly screamed when Sam finally dipped his tongue inside of me, lapping up my juices at a maddeningly slow pace. The fingers of my free hand laced through his long hair, gripping the back of his head and pushing him against me.

“Oh, fuck, Sam, yes!” I shouted, not giving a shit if the entire hotel heard me.

Sam firmly wrapped his long fingers around my wrist and pulled away.

Dean released my breast from his mouth and turned my face toward his. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…” he chided, low and wickedly. “You were being so good, why’d you gotta go and misbehave?”

“Dean, move. Now.” Sam commanded. This time he grasped broth of my wrists, sliding up my body until his nose was touching mine. “What did I tell you, princess? What did I say you call me?”

“Sir. I’m sorry Sir, please…” I whined, nearly languishing from the loss of Dean’s skin against mine, my body wound so tight and desperate for release that it was nearly painful. “Need you both so fucking bad…”

I was flipped over onto my stomach so fast the room spun. Sam delivered a firm slap to each cheek of my ass, the sting making my insides quiver as I let out a wanton wail.

“Do you like this, Y/N?” Sam growled, “because this is what happens to bad, greedy little whores when they forget the rules.”

“Yes, Sir...yes…” I mewled. Two more smacks and I bit my lip hard, afraid I might come any second.

“I don’t think you can control yourself. Your sweet little ass loves to be spanked, so you’ll probably keep misbehaving on purpose. Maybe tying those hands up will help you remember to be our good girl?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Dean?”

“Got it.” Dean was grinning as he clutched one of their discarded ties. “Hands above your head, sweetheart. Better do it quick, Sammy’s got an itchy palm tonight - and he’s being gentle.”

He wrapped the sleek, cool silk around my wrists as Sam gently rubbed over my flesh that burned with the sweet bite of his strikes. Dean finished binding me with a durable knot, then grasped my shoulders right as Sam gripped my waist, both of them manhandling me into their desired position. I was laying across the bed now, Sam at my feet and Dean looming above me.

“Turn over, Y/N,” Sam ordered. I obeyed enthusiastically, rolling my body and instinctively spreading my legs. “She looks adorable like this, doesn’t she?”

“Good enough to eat,” Dean smirked, curling his thick tongue over his bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance. I’m not done with her yet.”

Dean leaned over me, looping my arms over his head and brushing his upside-down lips against mine. “Such a fucking good girl for us,” he muttered, his voice deep and sabulous. He cupped both breasts in his hands, keeping his mouth a breath away from mine, breathing in my moans and sighs as Sam’s tongue licked a solid line from my entrance and flitted against my clit.

“Christ, you taste amazing, Y/N,” Sam praised. “So fucking sweet…” His lips latched on to my clit as he easily slid two of his thick yet agile fingers inside my cunt, prodding and exploring the deepest parts of me until my entire body jolted in pleasure.

“Oh fuck yes,” I groaned, fire beginning to churn in my abdomen from the vibration of Sam’s satisfied moans against my folds, from every brush of his fingers against my g-spot.

“Sammy find your sweet spot, baby girl?” Dean asked, tugging each of my nipples. “How’s it feel?”

“God, feels so fucking good...”

“You like how my brother plays with you? Bosses you around like a little fucktoy?”

“Love it, Dean…”

The tension was gathering too quickly, raw bliss surging through me, my legs beginning to tremble.

“Do you have any idea how long we’ve wanted this, Y/N? Wanted to kiss you, touch you, take care of you the way you should be?”

The waves of my climax were swelling, threatening to crest at the next word Dean uttered or the next flick of Sam’s tongue.

“Need to come...Sir, can I come for you?”

The warmth of Sam’s mouth left me as his movements slowed to just short of a stop.

“Look who’s being such a good girl now,” he grinned, his lips and chin glazed with my juices.

“Please, Sir…” I begged, knowing I sounded strung-out and pathetic, my body tensing with every ounce of self-control I had left.

“What do you think, Dean? Should we let her?”

“Fuck yeah, wanna see her pretty legs shaking, see her face this time when she comes…”

“And I want her to lose it with her mouth full...”

Dean stood up, tapping the tip of his cock against my lips, my tongue involuntarily snaking out to lick at the salty precome that dribbled out of his slit.

Sam’s fingers began to pick up momentum. “Since you won’t be able to talk, I’ll tell you now - you can come when you need to. You have my permission.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Dean traced the tip of his finger along my jawline. “Go ahead and take it, sweetheart.”

He was like velvet-wrapped iron, smooth and heavy against my tongue, stretching my lips with his girth. With my hands still tied, all he could do was fuck my mouth, sliding in until he hit the back of my throat. I let my tongue swirl around him as he pumped in and out, constantly moaning at the taste and feel and scent of him while Sam worked between my legs.

Dean held my head as he guided me along his cock, rewarding me with praises whenever I took him deep.

“Fuck Y/N you’re a pro at this...if your pussy’s even half as good as your mouth…”  

Sam slid in a third finger, beginning a steady, salacious attack on my g-spot. Almost instantly, I felt my walls tightening, the weight of an intense pressure threatening to shatter me from the inside out.

“Dean, she’s close. Play with her clit for me. Y/N, you keep his dick in your mouth like a good little whore.”

I screamed around Dean’s cock as the pad of his fingers pressed and circled my clit, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes as a euphoria I’d never known overtook me.

Somewhere underneath Dean’s heavy breaths and the sound of his brother’s fingers slamming into my sodden cunt I heard Sam’s insistent coaxes.

“That’s our good girl...come on, Y/N, that’s it...let it go…”

Sobbing around Dean I exploded, feeling my slick splash against Sam’s hand, soaking my thighs and the sheets beneath me. Dean pulled out of my mouth with a harsh grunt, leaving my lips free to weave a litany of incoherent curses as I rode out my high. Sam kept working, drawing out my orgasm so long it felt like it was never going to stop. He slowed his movements as I finally drifted down, sliding his fingers out of me and into his mouth.

“Dean, come clean her up. She’s fucking delicious,” he beamed, laying down next to me and pulling me into a fervent kiss; it was thorough and passionate, all-consuming, brimming with purpose. I could taste myself, mingling with cinnamon-laced flavor of his tongue.

“Thank you, Sir,” I whispered between kisses, still shuddering with aftershocks, tingles crawling up my spine from the feel of Dean’s mouth lapping up the remnants of the best orgasm of my life. My eyes fell shut as I basked in Sam’s warmth radiating beside me and the tickle of his brother’s stubble brushing against my inner thighs.

“No sleeping, Y/N,” Sam murmured against my ear. “We’re not done yet.”

Dean hooked his arms under my thighs and plunged his tongue deep inside with a hungry moan.

“Not sleeping, Sir…” I panted, my breaths becoming quicker. “I...I... oh, fuck…” Dean was sending me on a direct trajectory towards another orgasm I didn’t think I could physically handle.

“What do you want, Y/N? Tell us.”

“Want Dean to fuck me, Sir. Want his cock in my pussy and yours in my mouth.”

“I think that can be arranged,” he hummed, tracing my ear with the tip of his nose. “Would you like me to untie your hands now?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Sam rose to his feet, nimble fingers loosening the knot around my wrist.

“I still expect you to behave…”

“I will, Sir, I promise.”

“Good girl. Dean? Wanna give her what she needs?”

Dean kissed his way over my mound, up my stomach and sternum, landing on my lips for only a quick second. He knelt between my legs, grasping himself in his hand and rubbing the head of his cock teasingly between my folds.

“You want this, baby girl?” he taunted, pressing the tip right against my entrance.

“Yes, Dean. God yes, please...need you inside me…”

“Need you too, Y/N,” he sighed, steadying himself as he pushed into me inch by inch, my walls stretching and pulsing as I took him all the way in. He hissed in pleasure once he was buried to the hilt and began to move, dragging almost all the way out before sliding back in again.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart... feel so goddamn good...”

Sam was on his knees next to me, pumping himself, ready to feed me his perfect cock.

“Sir, please let me taste you,” I said, wrapping my fingers around him and guiding him into my mouth. He was as thick and long and luscious as his brother and I greedily took in everything he had.

“Oh my god, Y/N... shit yes…” he moaned as I swallowed around him, flicking and sliding my tongue. Dean grabbed my leg and raised it against his chest, affording a new angle that allowed him to nail my sweet spot with every thrust.

“Fuck...still so tight and wet…” he grunted, his thrusts gaining momentum and force. “Not gonna last long.”

“Hear that, Y/N? Want Dean to fill you up and come inside that beautiful pussy?”

I released him from my mouth, still stroking him in my hand, my breaths coming quick and hard. “Yes, Sir...Dean, please, yes…” A cry escaped my lips as Dean’s thumb found my clit again, making my insides quake, another climax taking hold of me. “N-n-need to come again...Can I come, Sir?”

“You love all of this dick in you, don’t you?” Sam sneered. “Go ahead, little cockslut, but you let him come first.  And then, I’m going come in this pretty mouth of yours and you’re going to swallow every drop. Understood?”

Sam didn’t give me time to answer as he pushed past my lips again, his rhythm as fierce and insistent as Dean’s had become.

“Fuck, Y/N…” Dean growled. “Gonna come...gonna fucking come…”

Dean spilled into me with a shout, the wet, thick warmth triggering my own release, the vibration of my muffled scream pushing Sam to his own end. He grabbed my head in hands as he let out a carnal roar, hot spurts of his come filling my mouth.  Dean collapsed on top of me, his brother following suit but landing by my side as soon as I drank down everything he’d given me.

Dean rolled off and settled on my other side, the three of us in a sweaty, sticky tangle of weakened limbs and rapid breaths. Eventually, Sam hauled himself up and walked to the bathroom. I turned my head toward Dean, kissing him softly as we simply stared at one another, lost in the moment, the corners of our mouths curving in sleepy, gentle smiles while we traced nonsense patterns over each other’s skin.

Sam emerged with two warm washcloths, handing one to his brother. Then he kissed me tenderly, while both brothers cleaned me and themselves up as best they could. His sweet, gentle demeanor was back, his eyes now full of what I could only dare to call love.

“Did you...was that okay, Y/N?” he asked.

I giggled, lacing my fingers through his and Dean’s hands, “It was more than okay. It was fucking mind-blowing.”

Sam let out what seemed like a breath of relief, pulling me against his chest. I nestled into that curve I knew I’d fit so well in, while Dean pressed into my front. “Glad we could deliver, sweetheart.”

“Hey guys, listen... I hate to go all chick-flick on you, but -”

“You’re wondering what happens now,” Sam offered, reading my mind. “If this was just a onetime thing.”

I nodded, slightly afraid of the response I was going to get.

“Y/N,” Dean started, “When I said you had no idea how long me and Sam wanted this...I wasn’t lying. We’ve both been in love with you since the day we saved your sexy ass.”

“This life is hard,” Sam added. “It’s dangerous and bloody and we never know if the day we wake up is going to be our last. We never thought you’d go for it, but maybe it could work...I mean if you feel the same…we’d love it if you were ours.”

“Well, son of a bitch,” I laughed.

“What?” both brothers asked in unison.

“My first time to Vegas and I hit the fucking jackpot.”

~Fin

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[semicolonthefifth]

CROSS Ch6 - Call On Me (& I’ll Be There)

“You’ve had yourself a good rest there, Mr. Cross?” The Mayor asks, moving a bit to the side to allow Jason out from the doorway.

Jason tiredly replied, chuckling a bit, “Yeah. Had a good rest, I guess.”

“Wonderful!” The mayor laughed, “See, I was right to leave you under Ms. Collier’s expert hands. One of the best people we’ve had the privilege of living here, and a helpful hand in just about every circumstance. That woman is a miracle worker - a great addition to our lovely town! Oh, and what a town it is, Mr. Cross!”

He waves his hands, in such an exaggerated way that it was like a show performance. Rasmussen, with a confident smile and a pump of his hands, stepped back as he continued on, “Now I know you’ve had an unfortunate impression, but let me assure you that you’re under some good care. Few ever get a chance to be tagged along by yours truly, so consider yourself lucky! I know every good man and woman that lives in this here great town, and I’ve been with Blondie ever since it’s creation - and I’ve long held the title of mayor, because I’ve done and made it so great! So let me tell you, Mr. Cross, that despite what misfortune you’ve had, you’ll be coming into a much brighter, and greater place that’ll - guaranteed - see to that your needs are tended to. Now don’t that sound like a great deal?”

“The best deal I’ve ever had.” Lies Jason, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Excellent!” The mayor excitedly replies, “Then how about a quick tour? Shall we?”

With that the mayor starts proudly marching out.

Jason Cross follows along out of Ms. Collier’s home and onto the open dirt road that crosses through Blondie. Upon exiting, he discovered that the building he was leaving was a two storey tall hotel made of wood and metal sheets, with Collier’s home being at the very end of a long row. He gazed up, not only seeing a porch where several townsfolk stood, but also the Aurora sun shining down on him. Jason turned back to the surface, and gazed out to the rest of Blondie. There in the late morning, Jason could see the town much livelier than last night. He looked around the area - taking in the sights and personality of this Aurora town.

Blondie’s people had a certain fashion to them. Many of the men wore old minder’s jumpsuits, either cut, tucked, or modified to their own personal style. Sometimes he could see someone having shorter cut sleeves, or with top zipped down to let their skin breath more. Some of them had additions such as belts vests, desert coats or reinforced work pants. The women were much similar, with few sporting around a dress. There were some girls that wore a head-scarf or a hat to keep themselves covered from the sun, and others had on a poncho made from the same cloth material as the jumpsuits. For a lot of them though, there was that western aesthetic creeping into their attire, something that dug into Jason a certain way. He watched them all, either going about their own business or making some leave out from the town for an errand.

The town of Blondie itself was laid out like a T, with stamped down road cutting through two lines of buildings of varying heights, and the Saloon at the very end accompanied by two other structures. At the other end of the town was the storage-house, keeping safe all the food for the town behind 4 stone walls and a set of locked doors. Towards the West was a single guard tower, aimed right where the Black Road was, and was high enough to overlook the whole town and then some. Surrounding the town were various tents and small wooden houses - providing homes to those who can’t fit in the hotel. Of the buildings that lined the road, Jason could spot a good variety of shops and services.

As he scanned the town, Jason was then brought out of his thoughts by a loud smack on his shoulder, followed by the much louder talks of the mayor. Rasmussen grinned from ear to ear, and his glasses reflected a harsh light at Jason as he spoke up towards the man,

“Ain’t a town like Blondie! It’s a grand celebration of a colorful time in Earth history. A damn beaut’, don’t you agree?”

Jason shrugged, trying his best to bury an annoyed grimace that was about to come out. “She sure is.” He plainly commented.

“Ab-sol-utely!” The mayor exclaimed with sheer pride in his voice, “She is my pride and joy, almost like a daughter of my own. Built her up many years back with the help of some mighty fine folk. We bought off several shipments of wood and stone from Moresatta - sunk in a lot of money and left ourselves damn near broke, but it was worth it when we worked the nearby mines. Made a fortune three times over what we spent, and that was in the first year alone!”

“I’m familiar with the history.” Jason states, continuing as he dryly adds, “Didn’t the mines go empty though?”

“Psh! They ain’t empty!” The Mayor shoots, doing his best to keep a grin as he starts walking - with Jason following suit. Rasmussen continues, with hands brought up to grip the folds of his coat in a showy fashion. His tone was like a snake-oil salesman making his deal, but that almost seemed unintended. “Despite those nasty rumors, Blondie ain’t out of the mining business just yet! We’ve taken some missteps, sure, but with difficulty comes a chance to learn. We’ve slowly transformed this town and made it something that if possible - though unlikely - can last beyond the mines. We’ve invested into trade, and into establishing ourselves as one of the key stopping points from here to the big city. Like a lot of the best towns on the Black Road, we can adapt to face all odds that this planet throws at us!”

“Take, for instance, our many shops!” He declares, waving towards the businesses that line the road. Jason takes a moment to look them over, seeing a decent variety - which Rasmussen is all too happy to point out. “We’ve got your much important trade shop for all your many needs! Everything and anything is brought here, so much so I’ve had to grant Mr. Creedy extra room in the back just to store it all!” He laughs, almost forced but Jason was unsure if the guy was putting on a show or was that convinced of his ‘material’. Jason glances at the shop, with dusty windows with various scavenged or bought items being showcased. He could almost see an elderly couple doing inventory inside. Then Rasmussen continues,

“That right there is the Church of the Old Faiths. Wonderful place it is, to be personally honest with ya. Rented out to some good folk preserving the scriptures, and they hold a weekly group study and mass for the town. I’ve been there twice in the time they’ve been part of Blondie, and each time I come out happy to have let them here!”

The church was just a regular wooden shop lot, but in place of advertisements were signs informing passerbys the schedule of weekly mass, prayer groups, and teachings. At the door was an engraving of the Earth, and orbiting around it were all sorts of symbols: crosses; crescent moons; stars of varying pointed ends; and other such strange figures Jason couldn’t understand. As he and the mayor walked by, Jason could see an old hooded man in white, brown and black cloth robe walk out - with a hat dangling a ridiculous amount of metallic trinkets hanging off the brim. Jason walked a bit faster upon seeing that.

“Finally, for this little tour!” Rasmussen states with the highest of glees. “Our very own butcher’s shop! I can tell you, Mr. Cross, that Blondie’s lizard meats are freshly cut and expertly served for the best taste you can get! So that when you and your friends come to Blondie, the first three things that’ll come to mind will be: mines, drinks, and meat! You’ll be sure to have a taste, right?”

Jason comments, smiling truthfully, “Already had sir, and I got to admit it was certainly a welcome treat”, which prompted a glorious ‘excellent’ from the mayor. Jason then gave a quick glance at the butcher’s shop as they continued walking up the road. At the moment the place was closed, with a sign on the door telling it so. Looking through the windows he could see a selection of wrapped meats, all showcased before any passerbys.

 Eventually the two men stopped, just a short walk away from the Saloon where a small crowd is gathered. Jason could make out a sea of concern among all the faces there, with every man and woman talking amongst themselves - about the fight, the deaths, and the man who was there. Past the crowd he could see the bartender inside, sweeping away all the mess while he’s accompanied by Frankie and Charlie - who each give a glance at Jason, but are unable to meet him without going past all the townsfolk.

His attention is pulled away when Mayor Rasmussen lets out a sigh of frustration, “Ah dang it. I thought I told those folk to let it be. Didn’t mean to let you see this...”

Jason looks down at the Mayor, cocking his brow a bit as he talks plainly once more, “You thought we weren’t gonna talk about last night or something?”

“Nah, that ain’t it.” Rasmussen states, his excitement lost in place of some genuine concern, “Folks here ain’t had much experience with the uh… nastiness of the Black Road. Our wonderful town here has had the great fortune to be far enough aways from the banditry and violence spread out across the Road. I’ve seen to that and, might I add, have done a good job of it. Unfortunately that has left our people scared and confused of what to do in light of last night’s events.”

In a bit of honest sympathy, Jason says out calmly, “Sorry about that, by the way. I didn’t mean to bring any trouble here - really.”

“Oh, no need to apologize. Just a fact of life here.” Rasmussen replies, sighing greatly out of displeasure this time around. “Still, it’s a problem our town ain’t prepared to face. I’ve been trying to settle things down and calm everybody, but they’re all caught up and afraid of what’s going to happen. We got some folks saying they’ll be another attack, and that kinda talk gets in the way of the peace we got here.”

Jason is silent for a moment, thinking over the situation. He takes another peek at the crowd, feeling responsible for what he has brought to them. It wasn’t like he didn’t feel terrible about last night’s event before, but the sight of the people worrying about some bandits bothered him. Blondie was quiet - too quiet. Everyone here had gotten soft, and it didn’t seem like they were in the right attitude to deal with the more serious threats from the Road. To Jason though, this wasn’t a serious threat. A couple of gun-toting bandits? It’s not so different from what he’s faced before in his work. It would only be fair, for what these people did for him, to make sure they’re not threatened by this gang.

After some thinking, Jason says out to Rasmussen, “Tell ya what.”

Rasmussen looks up at Jason, as the young man continues.

“You guys did well enough to help me - I should do right on you all the same. I’ll handle your bandit problem.”

The Mayor’s lips curl and stretch into a grin, as he asks aloud, “You serious?”

“Serious as can be.”

Immediately, and with utter excitement, Rasmussen pumps his fists and starts to dance, all while he bellows out a tremendous, high pitched, “YEEEE-HAW! Now that right there is what I’m talkin’ about! YEEEAH-HOOOO!”

Jason began to scrunch up his face with the feeling of cringe building up. Seeing this short, pudgy, brightly-dressed man dance and scream brought memories up to Jason of his more youthful days: when he and his brother once bagged a difficult bounty that got them running across the road for three days straight. When they eventually caught the bastard, he and Fred decided for once to let out a “yee haw” like in the old videos. The roped up crook stared at them like they were a bunch of freaks off an asylum and right then began to laugh. Fred stared daggers at the man, while Jason gave him a punch to knock him out.

His attention returned back to the present when he saw Blondie’s mayor dancing still, with his knees bent and spread wide as he hops in place. Eventually he calms down just enough to stop dancing, but he’s still talking in full volume,

“Now son, normally I don’t get to Yee-Haw’, but damnit is this not the perfect opportunity for a Yee-Haw! I’m just loving what I’m hearing, and it’s such a pleasure to have you do this for us! This town is blessed to have someone of the Crimson Cross here, and we’ll be eternally grateful for you coming forward the way you did.” He calms further, no longer shouting but instead now enraptured with what he’s imagining, “I can see it now: you and your crew… riding from the hill-top to take the fight to those bandits! Revolvers and rifles shooting out every which way - had I the chance, I’d love to come with you for such a spectacular sight!”

Right then Jason urgently interrupts and covers his ass, saying, “Better I just handle this on my own, sir. A gang like this doesn’t need every member of the Cross coming in to deal with it.”

“Right right…” Replies Rasmussen, calmer now but still delighted. “Well, thanks nonetheless. You be safe now, alright? Oh, and better you explain this all to the folk over by the bar… better to hear it from a hero like yourself than their mayor. That ought to calm them down.”

“Sure…”

With that, Mayor Rasmussen leaves off to his post - trotting down the dirt road with an excited skip in his step. Jason watched, feeling absolutely relieved to no longer have that guy at his side. Then, with a quick turn, he heads off towards the crowd.

The crowd were still chatting amongst each other, with few and growing taking notice of Jason as he started to get close to them. One by one, then five and ten, began to turn their heads towards the tall, muscular man that was standing before them and the bar. Charlie and Frankie looked on too but were unable to do much with the crowd still between them and Jason. For a moment everyone had quieted down, and Jason could get a good look of their faces once again. The fear was present, among other expressions of concern and frustration. This kind of violence is far too uncommon for this place, and they’re all demanding something be done with it - especially when it’s hit about the only source of entertainment for miles.

Right before Jason could get a word in, a women among the crowd speaks out, “M-Mr. Frederick, Sir?”

The name felt like a sharp pinch at Jason’s side - a reminder of last night’s events, and of a whole lot more. He is unable to say anything before more people begin to speak aloud. 

“Frederick!”

“Frederick Cross, Sir!”

“Frederick, what can you do about these bandits?”

“The children can’t sleep when we’ve got dangerous men coming over!”

“My farm’s vulnerable, Mr. Cross! Can you help?”

Eventually it turned into a ringing sound, and Jason’s eyes twitched as he was starting to get overloaded with all the questions and noise. He stretches his arms out, trying to signal everybody to calm down for just a moment. Still they squabble and chattered,  trying to out-speak each other in a frenzy of concern and fright. Jason sighed, took a deep and yelled out, “Alright ya’ll, listen!”

The chattering stopped, and so did the ringing.

He gives them another moment to dwell in the silence, making sure nobody tried to let out another word. Satisfied, he thinks for a second on how to proceed before finally speaking in a calm yet confident manner.

“Ok, now that I got your attention, I’m here to tell you all what you need to know. The name’s Frederick Cross, and I’m currently on the job of fixing all this. You guys don’t have anything to worry about, because you guys have a professional on duty here. Now the two guys that came here: they’re done and dealt with as of last night. As for their gang, they ain’t gonna be a problem.”

“How’re you sure about that?!” Cries an old lady from the back. Many mutter the same, either on their own or with their loved ones alongside.

Jason answers, “Because I know these guys, ok? I know how a lot of these gangs operate, and what signs to be worried of - and what I saw here wasn’t worth worrying about. This is just some small, up-and-coming gang that is trying to make it big. They probably have about 10 to 15 members at the most, and not a lot of experience in between the lot of them.”

“But sir! How do you know that?” A man calls out, wondering.

“Simple.” Jason starts, explaining, “If they were big then they’d have come here already. I have a lifetime of experience with these gangs, or raider bands as they’re sometimes called. I’ve faced against a lot of the bigger ones - going around with crazy names like REDS or Jozies. Those gangs mean business, and they’re not one to just send a couple guys to do their businesses when they can send a whole lot to get it done right. Of course, I know they ain’t big because they don’t at all look the part. These small gangs are very common, and they like to stir up trouble just to make a name for themselves. They like to come to towns like this, especially in the middle of the night while everyone is asleep - because they know they can’t deal with everyone here, in the likelihood that they’ll be armed and ready. Not to mention they only had one gun between the two that came last night, so they probably don’t have much to arm themselves. So from how I see it… these guys aren’t a problem. Not for you, and certainly not for me, because I will be dealing with these guys for what they’ve done.

The crowd murmur among themselves, many a lot calmer than when they arrived. Right then Jason closes his statement, “Now I promise you folks: I won’t stop until I dealt with this gang and made sure you’re all safe. You can trust in my word as a Crimson Cross that I can finish this job.”

Some smile, feeling safer now. They take his words as a great relief, with many beginning to move away - all while giving their thanks and best wishes to Jason as they pass him by. While some are still a little unsure, their nerves have surely lost their stress. However, an elderly man walks to Jason and asks of him,

“Frederick Cross, is it?”

Jason looks to the man, is silent for a moment, and answers not long after, “Just as I said.”

The man nods slowly, looking up to the young Cross before he says out, “Many know of you and your brother’s adventures, sir. You done a lot of us settlements plenty of good, more than the government even. We don’t doubt your skills one bit. They call you a master gunslinger, a tracker and a man of good wisdom. I think I can speak for a lot of us here that… we’re honored to have you here in Blondie. We hope you’ll do us well in protecting this town.”

Jason gasps a bit though hides it well. His smile perks up, and he says with a slight chuckle and righteous tone, “Well sir, it’s just as much an honor to help. I’m sure if we had my brother here, we’d do even greater at it.”

Then the man frowns a bit, replying with a shrug, “Perhaps.”

Before long he leaves, and so does everybody else. Not much else is said.

Jason’s smile drops slowly, and a tiredness comes to his eyes. He can feel something trying to come out, but he shoves it down. Squashes it. Buries it, and pats the dirt for good measure. He resumes his walk towards the bar, feeling almost the same way he did that night when coming in.

As he steps up to the bar, he’s greeted by both Frankie and Charlie, the former of whom gives a happy shout of, “Hey hey friend!” before meeting Jason halfway with a great, big hug. Jason’s smile returns a bit as he does the same to his friend, as Charlie directs a look of happiness and relief at the man. They hold on for a moment before letting go, with Jason giving a pat onto Jason’s uninjured shoulder. He laughs aloud,

“Finally awake from the dead, eh?! You been out of it for some time, thought for a moment you’d be sitting this one out.”

Jason tsk’d, a slight cocky smile on his face, “I ain’t letting a fight like that put me out of the job just yet. Shoulder will have some issues for a while, but some more rest and I’ll be good as new. Now what’re you two still doing here? Should you be off onto the road or something?”

Frankie laughs some more, pulling Charlie close and pointing him over, “Well me and this fella weren’t in the mind to be leaving soon. We still got the road to Moresatta left, but in the meantime we figured it was better to see you off first and maybe help around a tad. Charlie here was quite insistent to see what other trouble you’ll be getting into.”

“That true?” Jason asks, half surprised, other half… delighted?

Charlie nods, still looking uncomfortable from being held so closely. “I came here to see the stories and history of this planet - and what’s better than actually seeing it in motion? If you don’t mind, of course. I’d be honored to capture it all for my collection.”

Jason’s features soften as he seems to smile more genuinely this time around. He brings his hand forward to offer a shake to Charlie, who almost excitedly takes it though tries his best to be polite in the end. Meanwhile Frankie lets Charlie go, standing back to give the two guys some room. Jason states, “Well, happy to have you along Mr. Wills.”

They soon let go, with Jason saying out, “Now that’s all settled, how about we give the bar a look? I’ve got a feeling we could get something out of it before I make the drive out.”

Frankie and Charlie agree, following Jason into the bar as they approach with slow steps. Jason takes the lead in entering the building as he confidently strides and retraces the steps he took after the fight. Frankie is more lax, keeping close to the walls to overlook everything while Charlie does his best to stick close to Jason.

When they enter, the group is given a sight not much different than what they left behind. Some of the blood had been mopped up, and the two bodies taken away. Tables and chairs all over had been stacked or moved to allow more freedom to clean the mess. The music-player from before was still running, back on the sort of music that best fit this place. Currently it was playing “Call on Me (& I’ll Be There” by Floyd Tillman - or so Jason remembers. Meanwhile, much of the knick knacks and antiques have been moved away, either to be scrubbed off of blood or to allow more space to better wash the walls. The bartender from last night is in the middle of the main floor, moving another chair away by the time the group entered. He takes a moment to notice Jason, letting out a gruff exhale before putting the chair down onto the ground.

Jason looked back at him, a bit wide-eyed at the moment. Charlie was a bit more nervous coming back, as memories of last night come back to both of them and the not-so-thrilled owner. It was at that moment that Jason was able to really look at the man, seeing as he was no longer just a face in the background.

The bartender’s face spoke of hardship: a thick, angular jaw and cheeks, wrinkled from years of harsh sunlight and with a bushy, dark grey beard that went every which way but up. The same coarse hair was seen in his brows, that covered up an intense, almost ever-constant glare. Covering up what little hair he had on his head was a white cap, looking a bit brown from age and dirt.

His body was built with strength, but some of it had been lost. His arms were bare and muscular, but sagging in areas. His bartending apron hung proudly from his shoulders, and underneath was a miner’s jumpsuit, with sleeves rolled up. Near the collar was an interesting sight: a set of military patches from the UROE, neatly stitched for personal flair.

The two men stared at each other for a long while, with a heavy silence building between them both. Eventually Jason, with a strong sigh, broke the silence with a comment, “Just want to start off by saying…. That I’m really sorry for what had happened to your bar. I promise to pay back the moment I can. If it’s any consolation, I don’t think I’d have dealt with those so well if it hadn’t been for your collection there.”

For a moment the bartender simply stared back in silence before replying back in an old, strong voice, “Well, if anything, I’m glad that you dealt with those men… Jason.”

Jason coughs a bit before speaking out, “Oh… look, I was a tad drunk and--”

“And nothing.” Interrupted the bartender, his voice commanding discipline yet was done so calmly. “Now I appreciate you stopping those two strangers and saving the lives for your friends and I. However, I don’t like you lying to the town on your name, especially when it holds so much weight for a lot of folk. These people have a lot of love for the Crosses - we ain’t seen ‘em in many long years. So you best understand how serious this whole matter is.”

Jason felt guilty right there. It was like he was back in the farm, being scolded by his own father. It felt all too familiar, and hurt much the same. Once the man was done talking, Jason asked softly, “Are you going to tell them?”

The bartender shakes his head, “Nope.”

“No?”

“You are gonna tell them.” The bartender states. “If you know what’s good for you and this town, you ought to come clean and tell them the truth. It’s the best choice you can make.”

Jason tsk’s, wincing a bit from a light but sudden head-ache. He sighs, settling on saying to the man, “That’ll come when it comes. Right now I’m set on helping however I can, Mr…”

“Duke. Just Duke.” The bartender says, shrugging as his calm behavior is left unchanged. “If that’ll be, then that’ll be. So is there anything you are looking for?”

“It already looks like you cleaned up a lot so far. I was hoping to find any signs of whatever gang these guys belonged to - maybe how they’re dressed would give an idea.”

“Well, you’re going to have some problems with that”, Duke explains. “Couple of our men here came around and dumped the bodies far off. No clue where though, but the wild must’ve taken them away soon after, as they were gone by morning. Now I did get the chance to grab something off of them - a patch and their knives. I have no idea what it means, but you’re welcome to check them out on the table corner over there.”

Duke points over towards a far off corner of the bar, and sure enough on the surface lay two knives that belonged to the gangers, and a patch torn from a jacket.

Jason gives a nod to the man and heads over, with Charlie and Frankie following suit.

With careful hands, Jason held one knife up to inspect it:

It was similar to the other in many ways. The blade was serrated, short and thin, with an indent of some poker cars and a snake on one side. The smooth wrapped leather handle had a red tint, with metal pieces colored with copper. Aside from the blade there was nothing of interest in the handle.

As for the patch itself, there was plenty of details to read: it was shaped in an oval with the image of a white wooden coffin wrapped by two snakes against a black background. The snakes were colored with stripes of green and red, and the coffin was marked with the red initials of “C.C.”. Then, circling around the image was the name of the band, written in a sharp font: “Stone Groove Aces”.

Jason put the knife down, sighing a bit as he tried to collect his thoughts. He thinks aloud towards his friends, “Don’t remember anybody called the ‘Stone Groove Aces’, so very much likely a brand new gang. The initials on the coffin in this here patch don’t leave me a lot to work with, though I’m inclined to believe it means ‘Crimson Crosses’ - maybe a personal grudge. It doesn’t really give me an idea on where or how to find them.”

Frankie chimes in, “I can count better the number of gangs that don’t outright hate you better than the ones that do, Jason. Hell, I’m surprised there isn’t a gang simply called the ‘Crimson Cross Haters’.” He chuckles a bit, while Jason smirks a little at the thought.

Charlie meanwhile takes the second knife carefully into his own hands, examining it himself. He slides his fingers at the knife’s blade, looking very closely at it. Before long he gives his own theory, as he then feels the grip. “This has more the look of a cooking knife than any proper weapon.”

Jason shrugs, “So? Gangs here often use stuff like that when they’re short on supply.”

“Ok, but why both?” Charlie ponders, “Obviously they’ve been customized, so why would they settle on a style of knife like this? There might actually be a purpose to it, maybe in connection to their origins or some mentality. This handle material is also pig leather. Soft and rich, but not suitable for tools compared to other forms of leather.”

Jason and Frankie side eye’d one another, as Jason then directs his look back at Charlie and asks, “Now how would you know all that?”

Charlie looks at them both, a little nervous now that he’s under the spotlight. He then explains, as he puts the knife down. “Told you, I’m from Tyrell. Plenty of good colleges over there. I personally did some studying on agriculture and goods - alongside general logistics and trade. I’ve never put the actual work on account of the environment there, but I learned a great amount thanks to their libraries. They’re very informative, by the way. You can find a whole lot of different subjects and material, in fact they had a whole wing dedicated to crops and field wor--”

“Settle down there, friend. We got the picture.” Jason interrupts, chuckling some. He grins, remarking, “Well thank God… we’ve got a college man here. Ain’t we lucky.”

Frankie shows a more toothy smile, “And a chatterbox to match. Keep him close, Jason - with any luck, maybe you’ll come out of this with more an actual brain than you were given.”

“Shut up.” Jason says softly, smiling.

Charlie chuckles a bit as well. “Oh please. I was just excited to learn something that connected with this place and all. It’s always been a fascination.”

“Well now you’re living it.” Jason comments, taking the knives and patch before walking away. Charlie takes it in, smiling ever more before he excitedly follows after.

Jason gives a wave towards Duke as he walks, saying aloud. “We’ll be heading out! I think we might have something on this.”

“Alright! Now you two best be careful out there!” Duke calls out. “No telling what that gang will do once they find out about this.”

“Won’t be much trouble. You got something to defend yourself with, right?”

Duke nods, reaching over to the bar and grabbing from behind it: the shotgun from last night, now cleaned up of any blood or grime it once had. Jason turned back for a moment to see it, surprised to see it again. He almost wanted to ask for it back, but knew it was better that someone like Duke ought to keep it just in case. With that, Jason waves and so to do Charlie and Frankie. The group exit out from the bar and walk around to the back where both Jason’s car and Frankie’s truck are parked.

Frankie’s truck was a large vehicle, with an armored front and a space back covered by a thick tarp. With 6 wheels and some modifications, the thing is able to shoot straight through the Black Road and onto Moresatta and back much faster than most cars. It was the perfect machine for Frankie, whose job was to taxi people across the whole desert. However right next to the truck were two luggages - Charlie’s luggages.

Charlie rushes over to collect them, all while Jason stops to talk with Frankie.

“Can’t come along, Frankie?”

Frankie is a bit more serious now, speaking with less of a smile. “Got the call from the company awhile back. They want me on the road A.S.A.P., no excuses. I asked to stay long enough to see you off, but that’s as long as I could go. You can take our friend’s luggage along, meanwhile I’ll be busy on the road for some time.”

“Sure you can’t come back any time?” Jason asks, a bit saddened.

“I can, but you’re going to have to call it in later - and on when I can come back, that’s a tad beyond me. I’m sure you can settle things on ya’ll own just fine though. Don’t knock yourself down too much Jason. You’ve faced off worse before this, and I know this won’t be much a challenge for you.”

“Thanks for coming along anyways, friend.” Jason holds his hand out, but Frankie instead goes in for another hug. He grips tight, giving a couple friendly pats to the back, before moving back to give Jason some air. All the while Jason smiles, happy to have had Frankie along for what time he could get.

Frankie walks to his truck, whistling a tune as he does so.

Turning to his car, Jason sees Charlie trying to carry his luggage over to the car. He takes a glance at the hood, seeing something before calling out, “Hey uh… is this blood I’m seeing?”

To which Jason shouts back, “Don’t mind it! Just… press the release on the underside, you won’t miss it.”

He almost starts to make way for the car, but is approached from behind by a soft cough and a familiar, feminine voice, “Mr. Frederick.”

Jason turns, seeing Samantha Collier - back with a wicker basket containing some wrapped goods: meats, bread, and bottles of water. She holds it over to Jason, giving him a gentle smile that develops a pleasant feeling inside of him. He takes a moment to register the kind act before slowly accepting it, all the while Samantha speaks to him with a soft tone of voice,

“Thought I’d leave you with a gift. A little something for the road.”

“Well that’s very nice of you, Ms. Collier.” Jason chuckled dumbly, before collecting his senses back and saying more politely, “Thank you for helping me. Still, much appreciated.”

“Don’t mention it.” She replies, “It’s not everyday you help save a hero.”

“Yeah…” Jason almost breaks his seriousness for a moment there, keeping his smile.

“Though I hope to someday meet your brother. From what I hear of those stories everyone talks about, he sounds like quite the exciting man. If you ever come across him, tell him that Samantha would like a meeting. If he’s up for it.”

She leaves with a bow, waving the men away as she turns towards the town. “Stay safe, and thank you for helping us here.”

Jason Cross stands there, hands held tight onto the basket - feeling his heart skip a bit, and a warmth building in his cheeks. He feels proud and happy for a moment, and for the first time in a long while, that he was Jason Cross.

Before long he joins Charlie in the car, and at that time Frankie had already driven off for the Black Road. He gently places the basket in the back seat before driving himself to the Road as well, and away from the town of Blondie.

Jason leaves the town, feeling much happier than when he came in.

[cathcacen]

This is like, supposed to be a drabble, but turned into a behemoth of a ficlet. Oops.

Lars is on a journey to find her brother, but gets sidetracked by a side quest. 

What have I done? She’s seeing red, but self preservation takes hold, and they keep coming, one after the other, screaming for blood and murder. She breaks into a frenzy, not knowing, not caring, and eventually, they’re all laying on the floor around her. She lets out a sob and shuts her eyes, feeling the cold earth against the skin of her cheek where she’s collapsed. I should’ve said goodbye properly.

It’s been weeks since Skartara, and she’s been travelling from city to city, town to town in Khanduras, chasing rumours and news of a nomadic apothecary. She’s running low on funds by the time she gets to Duncraig, so when she’s offered a commission to retrieve the town lord’s daughter, she decides to take it up. She doesn’t know how she got caught up with the team of bounty hunters, opportunists, and so-called-heroes in the process, but she already wants out.

They’re somewhere on the road to Duncraig, and she’s since lost count of the smaller villages and holds they’ve passed since leaving Kingsport behind. She’d made it a point to stop at each, but none of the villagers have good news for her.

Eventually, the others raise the issue of her wasting time, and she snipes back that it had been part of the agreement, raised to, and sanctioned by their current benefactor lord, even. Personally, she’s not sure she knows why it’s necessary to send a band of eight to fetch a feisty sixteen-year-old, but then she remembers; a father’s over protectiveness rarely has boundaries.

Still, her constant stops put her and most of the others at odds, and they ride ahead in search of better towns and watering holes for ale and wine. Occasionally, she finds Naix, a bowman from Scosglen waiting for her to catch up, and they ride together for a distance before he heads off to scout the road ahead again. She doesn’t mind in the least.

The girl, Cecilie, is well-mannered enough, short for her age, but in possession of a flattering figure and a charming smile. She almost reminds her of Theone, with her self-assuredness and commanding tone of voice. Already, the young girl’s settled a dispute between two of her current company, a lesser noble from Kurast and one of the two hulking, muscle-bound mercenaries from Lut Gholein.

Lars has to admit it – she kind of likes the little lady.

“Okay, tell me about these people. How did you get caught up with them?”

She glances back at the young lady from the driver’s seat of the carriage. The others’ mounts were too small, too angry, or too unpredictable, so the task of drawing the carriage came to her sweet-tempered mare. Siggy whinnies softly, and she makes a soft, hushing sound, wishing she could pet the mare’s soft forehead. “Just a little bit more, girl. I know you’re not used to this.”

“Well?” Evidently impatient, Cecilie climbs over the front of her carriage, and settles with a loud thump on the seat beside her. “Come on, I know you hate them. You can barely look at them; hells, we’re so far away from them right now we might as well be travelling separately.”

“I don’t hate them,” Lars insists, but Cecilie is grinning knowingly at her. “You’re sharp for your age, aren’t you?”

“I have to take over my father’s estates someday, so I’ve a feeling I’m going to need my wits about me.” Cecilie leans back, folding her arms over her chest. “That’s if he doesn’t marry me off to some oaf wanting to take over my inheritance, anyway.”

“I’m sure he’ll have trouble trying.”

Cecilie laughs aloud at that, and Lars manages a wry smile. “You’re... Laori, right?”

“Mmhmm,” She jerks her head towards the path before them. “You remember any of the others?”

“Naix strikes me as the only other sane person in the group. The others seem like a bubbling pot of insanity, self-serving greed, and violence. Honestly, you’d think my father would’ve sent actual soldiers.” Cecilie glances aside at her. “No disrespect meant to you, I’m certain you’re a fair combatant.”

“What gave it away?” Lars arches a brow.

“You’re from Virkove, and you’re a Cethlion. There’s no way the famed General Cethlion would’ve let his daughter out in the world alone without making sure she could keep herself safe.” Cecilie pauses, then turns fully to look her straight in the eyes. “I’m sorry, by the by. We heard about his passing.”

She stares at the young girl. It hadn’t occurred to her that her father’s name would be commonplace so far from home. Then again, this girl had proven to be well-learnt. She made a mental note to use her mother’s name from now on – for an easier time in anonymity, she thinks. “Don’t worry about it,” She says. She doesn’t want to think about her father’s bones and ashes in the ground, so she opts to backtrack. “Your father couldn’t spare the men. Things are a little strange in the world right now, and we’re hearing rumours of demonic activity spurring a little. Your king recalled most of your father’s men to Westmarch, and the rest are needed to guard the city, in case anything happens.”

“Yes, I know.” Cecilie says. “You can’t favour your family’s needs above the needs of your people.”

She lets out a tired chuckle. “That sounds like something dad would’ve said.”

“Yours, and mine both.”

They continue northwards for a short while, content to maintain the comfortable silence. She can see Naix’s silhouette up ahead, and before him, she’s certain, is the mage from Ureh. So many names, and so many people I’ll be glad to never see again once this is over and done with.

“You didn’t answer my question, though. How did you get caught up with these people?” Cecilie’s voice pulls her from her reverie. “Does it have anything to do with this person you’re looking for?”

“My idiot brother, you mean?” She glances aside at the girl. “Yeah, I’m trying to find him. He’s not making it easy.”

“Where’ve you looked so far?”

“I started with Skartara,” She bites her lip. It wasn’t exactly fair – Skartara had been more of a holiday, and by the looks of it, Cecilie is well aware of that too. “Okay, I started by visiting Skartara to clear my mind.”

“I want to go to Skartara one day,” Cecilie sighs. “Where else?”

“Kingsport, Tristram, Bramwell... not in that order, of course.” She wonders how far she’s going to have to look, and makes a mental note to give Iliev a good shaking for her troubles. “I’ve established some connections in each town I visit, of course, so they’ll send ravens to my best friend’s home in Sharval if they have news. And if it comes to that, I’ll head east.”

Cecilie is quiet for a long moment, but her voice is thoughtful when she speaks. “You must really love your brother.”

She quirks a smile. That, and I really needed some time to myself.

The next few days pass in a similar fashion. She learns about Cecilie and her father, and hears the story of how her mother had died of infection some years ago. She’s told that Cecilie is an only child, and that she’s spent most of her childhood learning the politics of Khanduras, despite her father’s iron-clad rule that she never visit Westmarch as a courtier. She learns that the girl likes to sew, and that she has a soft spot for foxes and the little old woman who sells sweet buns in the market at Duncraig.

Lars tells her about the time her father had found two of Virkove’s most competent combatants arguing over Captain Haile’s purple pants, and they’re laughing about it when the first flare of gold and red brightens the twilight sky. It’s one of the mage’s, a sign they’d agreed upon for emergencies, so Lars knows something is wrong.

Her suspicions are immediately confirmed as Naix rides back towards them, dagger in hand and eyes widened in panic. “We’ve got company,” He says quickly as he cuts Siggy free of the carriage. “You two get on and ride; I’ll cover you.”

Cecilie climbs calmly onto Siggy, and she hops on behind the girl, gripping the mare’s reins. “The others?” She glances towards Naix.

“Holding them off. Go.”

She nudges Siggy, and the mare takes off through the brambles and bushes. Cecilie lets out a soft, panicked cry. “If they’re smart, they’ll have organised a blockade on the road,” She explains, as calmly as she can over the stomping of hooves. Thank you for everything you’ve taught me, Uncle Lear.

They’re tearing through a narrow hidden path when the first of Naix’s arrows whizz past them, and she lets out a faint yelp as the corpse crashes from the trees, causing Siggy to rear onto her hind legs. “Whoa, girl!” She glances up as the second arrow finds its target, and another drops. “Come on, go!”

More arrows are raining around them now, and she realises, horrified, that they’re aimed at her. She jams the reins into Cecilie’s hands and focuses her mental energies on the projectiles, but there are so many, and she has trouble slowing them all. She’s only just reaching out to divert an arrow from Siggy’s side when one pierces her own thigh. She doesn’t know how it happens, but by the time her mind stops reeling from the pain, she’s on the ground, and both horse and girl are gone.

There are figures all around her, and she’s struggling to find her bearings when the crude wood axe comes for her. In her state of panic, she dodges inelegantly, and the blade catches her on the shoulder, slicing through her cloak and shirt to draw blood. Her assailant lets out a triumphant cry, and that short opening allows her to barrel forward, knocking him to the ground. Before he has a chance to react, she’s wrested the axe from his hands and sliced through his throat.

Then her vision clears, and she realises he’s human.

What have I done? She’s seeing red, but self preservation takes hold, and they keep coming, one after the other, screaming for blood and murder. She breaks into a frenzy, not knowing, not caring, and eventually, they’re all laying on the floor around her. She lets out a sob and shuts her eyes, feeling the cold earth against the skin of her cheek where she’s collapsed. I should’ve said goodbye properly.

The last thing she remembers is Naix’s boots in her line of vision, and the feel of warm hands lifting her up onto a horse.

It’s sunny when she wakes, and her entire body aches. Cecilie is seated beside her bed, and quickly assures her that they’re safe, and that Siggy is happy in the stables with good feed and equally good equine company.

“The others?”

Cecilie smiles wryly. “All safe. As it turns out, they’re quite reliable in battle.”

She’s fighting back a wave of nausea, but she has to know. “How many?”

Cecilie tenses a little, and her eyes take on a pitying cast. “Just the one. Turns out you knew enough even in the heat of it to, y’know... aim well. They’re going to be spending the rest of their lives in prison.”

The surge of vomit wins. She spends the next ten minutes heaving into a wooden bucket, Cecilie patting her back lightly.

“What happens to me?” She asks, the bile burning her throat.

Cecilie eyes her oddly. “Nothing. We don’t jail people for self preservation, and you’ve got a fairly good witness as proof of your innocence.” She puffs her chest out with pride. “My father’s grateful for your help in bringing his daughter home safely.”

She doesn’t want to talk about the guilt that eats at her, so she simply nods. I have blood on my hands. Gods, what have I done?

“One more thing,” Cecilie’s voice softens as she stands, evidently understanding her silent plea to be left alone.

She lifts her head a little, blinking back tears. “What is it?” Her voice comes out in an odd, strained croak. She hardly recognises it.

“You’ve got a visitor.”

She finally breaks down into a sob when she sees her visitor.

It’s Iliev.          

[ecotone99]

[FN] Shadows of Doubt

My first post to short stories. I mainly stick to Writing Prompts but I’ve been caught on a few stories stuck in my head that needed conceptualized. Here is the first draft to a much larger story I plan to expand on and rewrite.

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"That should be everything except dairy, and frozen foods," I muttered to myself under my breath. The grocery outlet was quiet this morning. I had come to enjoy shopping at this particular store. It was quaint, and fondly reminiscent of the one I briefly slaved for in the early years of the previous century. It seems so long ago now, another life entirely.

I was born, or so I thought, the son of a whore and a passing traveler, in a tavern somewhere in what's now known as Utah; approximately around the time of the California Gold Rush. Through many tribulations, I discovered the truth behind my birth and my bloodline, the Noctillium. It was both foreign, and natural to me to discover that I was the descendant of a dedicated family of dark mages. Their goal, the sole pursuit of absolute knowledge and power of the ancient Magiks, no matter the cost.

I came to realize my true nature at the age of 23. One of our earliest and most powerful ancestors cast a curse on our bloodline, trading our capacity for empathy and love, for immortality that manifests itself at your peak age of power and physicality. A costly trade, that I've spent nearly a century unraveling the intricacies of, in an attempt to reverse it. After tracking down the Sanctum of the Noctillium, I spent years studying their ancient texts, learning every scrap and morsel of knowledge they had to offer. After a few decades, I came to the conclusion that they possessed nothing more for me to learn. They had become complacent in the age of Industry, no longer pushing the boundaries of Magik beyond their realm of understanding. Try as they might, I was never loyal to them or their heritage. Loyal only to myself and my own goals. I abandoned their conclave for the answer to my question: how can I become human?

One constant seemed to always remain in the failures of the Noctillium, and I came to realize that they may be the only ones who possess the answer I seek. The Aegan. A clan of battle druids that wield light and fire. Since the moment humans first discovered Magik, the Aegan and the Noctillium have been the two sides to a never ending feud. No matter what the Noctillium have attempted, the Aegan are nearly always just around the corner, trying whatever they might to hinder their plans. Their numbers have dwindled over the years, unsurprisingly at the same rate the Noctillium lost their yearning for power. Yet, there are still enough of them to always be cautious, and to never let your guard down, as they are not above ambushes and will kill a mage on sight. If they can. Until now, I’ve been lucky enough to have not crossed paths with them.

I've spent the last few years tracking their members, in hopes that they might answer a few of my questions, although they are very likely to answer with a bolt of holy fire. I'd been taking a break the past few weeks. Enjoying the tranquility of the Northeast, in the late stages of fall. The homely town I had moved into, bustling with fervor for the upcoming holidays. Being immortal, spending different seasons in different parts of the world had become a hobby, but Vermont in October just can't be beat. I may not be able to love or feel empathy, but I can and still do enjoy the beauty of nature. This would prove to be both my biggest mistake, and greatest victory. Without realizing it, I had formed a pattern of returning to this area at roughly the same time every year, to see the trees change color. Someone had been watching.

I was passing by an end cap of locally grown Chrysanthemum, basking in their fragrance, when it hit me. Power surged forth to my hands, crackling and dancing between my knuckles. The Aegan. I could sense they were close, but possibly not inside the building yet. Their power felt muddled, masked by an unkown, hiding both their numbers and the extent of their power. I moved toward the back, near the fire exit, in case they outnumbered me. I had yet to battle with a member of the Aegan, and I wasn't going to allow my first one to be a resounding failure. I twisted one of my rings, exposing a blade and made a small incision on my palm. Blood magik is extensively potent, but comes at a high price. I began to fortify myself with protection spells, but nothing so extravagant to give myself away. I removed what weapons I had from my pack, woefully unprepared for this encounter. I rapidly began inscribing runes along the blade of the only weapon I currently had with me, a small kodachi meant for ritualistic sacrifices to Oni demons. This would have to do.

I stood at the ready, between the bread and salad dressing aisle. I was even less prepared than I thought for what came next.

Around the corner of the nearest aisle, came a blue eyed, blonde haired toddler, obviously playfully running from her parents. This little girl, whose power I could feel dormant, just below the surface, locked eyes and ran straight for me. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. As this little creature reached my feet, the look of trust and love in her eyes were what threw me more than anything else up to this point, as if she had known me her entire life. She reached up at me, painstakingly expectant that I would pick her. I still don't know why I did it, but l picked her up and cradled her in my arms. The warmth from her tiny body spreading throughout my chest.

A moment later, my life, and everything I thought I had known, changed in an instant. From the direction this toddler had come from, now came what i believed to be her parents. My eyes glassed over the mother. She had no power whatsoever. No threat.

The father on the other hand, I couldn't take my eyes from him. It took a fraction of a second before I gathered my wits, but in that second I stared into my own eyes. My own face. This man was either my doppelganger or some type of relative. I activated the rune i had unscribd behind my left eye for this exact situation, quickly scanning him for any differences and similarities between us. I was rebuked with searing pain as I felt the rune disappear. Had he done that? Did I make the rune incorrectly. Impossible. I don’t make mistakes like that.

The look of confusion on the mother's face matched that of the child in my arm, now confused on who her father was. Before she could say anything, the man across from me snapped his fingers, and I could feel time stop all around us. Even the girl in my arms froze in place. Even I haven't mastered time magik's to an extent like this, I screamed internally, who is this man?!

He spoke, but I instantly recognized it as a dead, demonic language. So old the name can’t be comprehended by most mortals, “I'm sure you are confused, and obviously you are ready to cut me and my family down at a moments notice to preserve yourself. Alas, you hesitated and now I have the upper hand. What shall you do?"

I mulled over my options. I was ready to activate one of the blood runes I had inscribed on a nearby shelf, making for a quick getaway to transport me directly back to my safe house. But what if he can stop you? The voice in the back of my head would swat away any thought I had of what I should do next.

"It appears neither of us were prepared for this encounter, and we stumbled across each other by happenstance. Before you make a decision, might I give you some important information?" He said in more of a statement, and less of a question. I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

The corner of his mouth curled, before he continued, "Tell me, what do you know of your family? Your father? You wield the ring of the Noctillium, but are you truly one of them? A blood descendant, or a righteous follower? What if I were to tell you, that what you think you know, is only a half truth. A play, that has been acted out for more than a millennia by willing actors. I can provide you the answer's you seek. You must merely ask me the questions, Son.."

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