#this outfit makes him seem more muscular but he has a very thin waist and is pretty lithe

[tragedia]

GREY WARDEN #02

[seiyasabi]

Enceinte

(This is a Yandere Amajiki x Pregnant Female Reader story :)) Please proceed with caution!

TW: Stockholm syndrome!, mentions of abuse! (not you), mentions of dub/noncon! (not you), !mentions of unsafe abortion! (not you), pregnancy!, !!!mentions of a suicide attempt!!!! (not you), captivity!, !lactation kink!, !breast milk drinking!, no sex but NSFW themes!, etc..

I hope you guys like this!) 

Tamaki’s large hand rubs your back soothingly, attempting to alleviate your current backache. He’s taken you on a ‘playdate’ with his friend’s darling, and the four of you are sitting in the jovial blond’s living room. 

“Everytime we see her, she just keeps getting bigger and bigger!” Mirio cheers, “How far along is she now?” He talks about you as if you aren’t there, causing you and your previously unwanted husband to become uncomfortable. The blond is definitely not a Yandere anyone would want; he’s controlling, sadistic, misogynistic, entitled-all things you’re happy that your Amajiki isn’t. It’s just another reason why you gave into him a year ago. 

“Mirio, pl-please don’t talk about (Your Name) like she isn’t here. You know it makes me uncomfortable,” The brawny man’s eyes flash with a dark emotion, causing you to lean in closer to the indigo haired man’s side. His friend scares you, and you can’t help but pray for his darling. The poor girl is always covered with bruises, littered with painful gashes, and just the thought of your friend being hurt by that monster brings a tear to your (colour) eyes. 

“Ah, it seems I forgot. Sorry Ama,” Your husband freezes up with further discomfort at his best friend’s use of your nickname. His blue eyes land on your rigid form, a small smirk on his thin lips, “How far along are you, (Nickname)?”

Your left hand is on your round stomach, your son kicking lightly at your touch, “We’re about seven months! I’m set to give birth in a few months,” A small smile is on your lips at the thought of your future child. Amajiki’s free hand places itself on top of yours, causing you to look up and give him a full on grin. Seeing that he was smiling at you as well, you place your head on his shoulder. He always knows how to make you feel better. 

“See, (Friend’s Name)? This could be us if you weren’t so stubborn,” Your husband interlaces your fingers together, squeezing reassuringly. He knows that his friend’s actions are somewhat triggering, especially because you know the things he’s done. Mirio lets out a wicked laugh, looking at the both of you with cruel eyes, “(Friend Name) here and I were pregnant a few months ago, after a long night of love-making,” Amajiki holds you even tighter, trying to stop your terror-filled shakes, “But someone was selfish. Someone decided to take a handful of pills, and now your mini Tamaki won’t have a friend. But don’t worry,” His large hands grip your friend’s thigh harshly, “We’ll try again. That’s the point of women, eh, Amajiki? Our own personal baby-makers?” 

Your teary eyes find (Friend’s Name)’s, your hand covering your mouth. You hadn’t seen her for a month, and you now know why. You also now know why her hands are covered with mittens, why her throat is wrapped with a shock collar, why she-

Tamaki stands up quickly, his hands gently guiding you onto your swollen feet. He wraps a protective arm around your waist once you’re fully standing, and he starts to guide you to Mirio’s yellow front door, “Ah, I-I think it-it’s time we go home. (Your Name) i-is sleepy, so-”

“Don’t worry about it, buddy! I totally understand. After all, good Darlings get nice privileges, and (Your Name) is one of the best Darlings I’ve ever met. She knows her place,” He stands to his feet, standing a good five inches above your very tall husband, “Come on, (Friend’s Name), let’s walk them out.”

The (Hair colour) girl struggles to her feet, her broken foot in a boot. She hobbles to the door in her house-wife esque frock, drawing a laugh from the sunny man. The sight hurts your heart so bad, that you have to look away. 

Once the other couple reach their front door, Mirio draws a large keyring filled to the brim with different coloured keys from his pocket, before inserting each one into the ten locks present on the painted wood. Once all are unclasped, he holds the door open with a boot clad foot. 

“You two have a good day! I’m sorry for (Friend’s Name)’s behaviour, I’ll be sure to straighten her out once you leave,” You hear her barely muffle a sob, making your lip quiver with your own sobs. Once outside, you hear the door slam shut, and hear a series of locking mechanisms go into place. 

“He’s gotten worse,” You hear Amajiki mutter, which is enough to send you into a breakdown. His muscular arms wrap you in a tight side hug, his own tears dripping onto your (hair/head). 

You cry for your friend and the person she once was. 

He cries at the monster his best friend has become. 

-

Tamaki was right, you ended up taking a nap the moment you got home. 

When you awoke, your back hurts even more than before, along with your milk filled tits. Massaging your sore chest, you sit up with a bit of trouble. At your last appointment, your doctor said your son was a big fella, and cautioned you against doing anything besides resting. This caused the already doting Amajiki to take up every chore and task you have. 

Right now, you can hear and smell him cooking your favourite meal, causing you to stand onto your wobbly feet. With one hand on your tummy and one on your back, you waddle towards your personal chef of a husband.

He’s currently leaning against the grey granite counter across from the stove, and when he sees your form struggling towards him, he rushes into action. Tamaki quickly sweeps you off of your feet, and brings you to your kotatsu couch. Gently placing you onto your preferred spot, he helps you place a few pillows behind you to help give you better back support. 

“Bunny, what are you doing out of bed? You could’ve hurt yourself,” He’s improved on his nervous stutter since you’ve fallen for him, warming your heart completely. 

“I’m sorry, Ama. I woke up with a backache and wanted a massage, but then I got hungry-” He loves listening to you ramble, you’re the most precious person he’s ever known. Especially when you ‘talk’ to your son. Sometimes he’d listen in and hear you coo about the cute outfits you found for him, or how his Daddy is a super cool hero, or how you can’t wait for him to come out so you can pinch his chubby cheeks, or- “Are you even listening?” He glances up, taking in your adorable pout, causing his face to go red. 

“Of course! I’ll give you a backrub after dinner, okay? Then we can take a shower,” You nod, allowing him to hurry to the kitchen to grab your food and utensils. 

He comes back at a lightning fast pace, he uses a few tentacles to juggle the (bowls/plates) along with the (chopstick/spoons/forks), side dishes, and toppings. 

“Go ahead and eat, okay? I’m sure you and (Son Name) are starving,” Giggling at his overeagerness, you give in to his demand. 

-

“-Is this pressure good? Let me know if it’s not,” Amajiki’s massive hands knead your aching shoulders, and rub down your pained spine. His thumbs massage the area around your ribs, trying to loosen your muscles to allow you to relax. You’re currently shirtless, clad in only your bra and your comfortable joggers.

“Mhm, you always know how to make me feel better, Ama,” He practically preens at your words, smooching the bare skin of your upper back. 

The massage continues, easing the pain in your back. Now, the only thing ailing you is your sore breasts. 

“A-are you okay, Bunny? You tensed up quite a bit,” You turn your head enough for him to see your comforting smile. 

“Yes, I’m okay. It’s just, uhm, oh man, this is so embarrassing,” Both of your hands cover your face to hide your flushing cheeks, sending Tamaki into a mini panic attack. 

“What is it? Is the baby giving you trouble? Do I need to take you to the hospital?” Seeing his panic, you try to turn to face him, but require his assistance to do so. His clammy hands grip yours as he brings you toward him. 

“No, Tama, it’s nothing serious, it’s just…” You look down in shame, “My, uhm, my breasts hurt,” Your voice trails off at the end, causing your husband not to hear you. 

“Wha-what was that?” Small tears group in your eyes, as your shame overwhelms you. 

“My boobs hurt! Please don’t make fun of me by making me ask again!” Seeing your distress, he quickly brings you into his embrace. 

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you the first time, I swear! I’ll help you, Bun, there’s no need to cry. Here,” The indigo haired man unclasps your bra, allowing your tits to fall out somewhat harshly. Yelping at the ache, Tamaki tries to soothe you by holding your larger breasts up, alleviating the pain, “I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” You smooch his forehead, his entire face is bright red, “Please help me, I need you,” Your wet eyes and much larger breasts make your husband look away, trying not to become aroused. 

“Oh-okay,” His warm hands gently squeeze your teats, testing to see if that was enough pressure. A small moan leaves your lips, telling him that what he’s doing is helping. 

His hands knead your sensitive chest in a rhythmic fashion, slowly quelling the pain you were once suffering. 

Just when you fully relaxed, disaster struck. 

Two streams of thick milk spray from your teats, coating the front of his black shirt. You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands. 

“I’m sorry Ama! I-I didn’t mean to! It just-” Without missing a beat, the indigo haired man suddenly latches on to your nipple. His lips suck vigorously, trying to drink all of your yummy milk in one go. A loud moan leaves your lips, as you try to detach him from your leaking tit, “Wha-what are you doing?” A keen escapes your throat when he tweaks your other nipple, dripping your milk onto your joggers. His own moans vibrate against you, sending a flash of arousal to your pussy. 

Once he has his fill of your right breasts, he lets go with a small gasp, “Do-do you feel better Bun-Bun?” Now that you thought about it, yes, yes you do. So, you nod your head, mouth slightly agape. 

“Please, ‘Jiki! Please milk my other titty too!” He doesn’t say anything, before he latches on to your left nipple. Whilst he sucks, he lets his tongue flick your leaky teat, triggering a little more milk to spray out. You both moan, one of you in absolute lust, and the other in relief. The heavy, aching feeling of your breasts slowly fades away, leaving you feeling light and happy. 

Your hand runs through his soft locks, a sigh of pleasure going through your nose, “Thank you, Ama, you’re so good to me. I’m sorry if it doesn’t taste good-” He quickly releases your left nipple to kiss you on the lips. 

“Your milk is delicious, Bunny. I don’t think I can ever go back to cow’s milk ever again!” He fondles your enlarged chest, playing with your sensitive nipples, “I love you so much, (Your Name). Is it okay if I nurse with our son?”

You flush at his words, “Bu-but my milk’s for (Son’s Name), won’t he go hungry?” He shakes his head no, kissing you on the lips once more. 

“I asked your doctor for breast milk supplements, you’re going to have more milk than he’ll need! Please, Bunny! Please let me have more!” You can’t say no when he asks you so sweetly. Smiling at him, you nod. 

You know you should be upset that those ‘extra vitamins’ weren’t truly vitamins, but you can’t bring yourself to care. After all, he loves you so much that he wants to drink from you! 

So, when he reattaches himself to your right nipple, you pet him sweetly. 

[sulphuryasecretcloset]

What if...

For the record, I blame @phrenic-a and @mountevey for this one... I, uh, think maybe three parts? Four? And just posting it here, not on AO3, as I DON’T DO AUS! ...except for this one, it seems. *sigh* 

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if...

-

Part 1

Rated T for a slight touch of gloom before the fluff can start

It has been three months since they left Seswenna. Three months since she told Macero she was bringing Corin along to scout for some new outfits and her husband barely bothering to pay attention to the end of the sentence.

They couldn’t stay on Seswenna any longer. Corin is turning five soon and Macero had been hinting heavily at how was time for the boy to start his training and that it was way overdue for her to produce another child. Macero has plans and a schedule to keep.

But as neither scenario was an option for Dulsissia, she found a ship going to the most distant, dark corner of the Galaxy, scraped together some credits that Macero didn’t know about and bought two tickets. 

She and Corin left that very day.

As there was no way for her to bring lots of credits without alerting Macero, Dulsissia brought as much jewellery as she dared, hoping that would be enough to last them a good while, but she had no idea that decent living quarters, servants and proper food were so expensive. And while she’d been aware of that she’d have to find some way to earn a living for her and her son, Dulsissia quickly learned that none of her skills were something that someone one this foreign, gritty and vulgar planet were willing to pay for. Here credits went to food and booze, not fashion and beauty. Here there was nothing but concrete on the ground and thick, suffocating smoke in the sky.

It hadn’t taken long before they were running out of funds and this is why they now no longer have a roof over their heads and why the food has been so scarce the last couple of days.

Her sweet, sweet boy has been so good these months. Hardly asking any questions, never complaining, simply following her like a baby-Porg with blind trust and love. Dulsissia’s heart is breaking over the fact that she’s going to fail him.

They can’t go on like this. She refuses to let him starve. They will go back and she will face Macero’s wrath before she lets her child end up like one of the unfortunate souls they see scuttling around in the alleyways here.

Lost in her misery, she doesn’t notice the danger until it is too late. An arm goes around her waist and she’s yanked away from her son. Corin calls out for her, his thin voice filled with panic, but she can’t reply as a dirty hand covers her mouth and she is fighting to free herself.

It’s a human man drawling all kinds of horrible things into her ear, clearly drunk and unwilling to pay for female company. A second voice joins in. Two of them.

Dulsissia panics, just like her son, but no matter how she fights; they are too strong and she can’t break free.

The sound of a blaster being fired is frightfully loud, but as the man lets go of Dulsissia; she’s too busy breaking free and running forward to drop to her knees and cradle Corin protectively against herself to care. The boy clings to her with desperation.

A second shot. Someone nearby falls to the ground. Dulsissia tries to cover Corin’s ears and closes her eyes while hot tears trail down her face.

She never should have left. She should have found a different way. She should have never brought Corin here. Even Macero was better than this. She would have found a way to shield Corin from his wrath. She never should have left…

“Are you two okay?” A slightly robotic voice asks.

Tensing up, Dulsissia hesitates, wondering what new horror will follow what she’s just been through, then slowly looks up at the towering shape standing there.

It is a humanoid looking being, but it is wearing blue armor and a blue helmet concealing their face. They holster a massive blaster and the helmet tilts a little in what could almost look like concern.

Dulsissia nods. She keeps Corin close, shielded from the stranger. “Thank you.” She says in a half-whisper as her throat hurts from trying to scream earlier. She hopes good manners might keep the stranger, who looks like a male, in a benign mood and that he’d not simply take over where the others had left off.

“This area is not safe. Where are you going?” The stranger asks.

Dulsissia hesitates, reluctant to tell him anything but scared she might provoke him if she doesn’t. She’s very aware of the two bodies still twitching on the ground. She says the first thing that comes to her mind. “The marked.”

A moment of silence, then the helmet nods. “I’ll escort you two there.”

There is another jab of reluctance, but Dulsissia doesn’t dare decline. Also, if they are around others, he might not dare to do anything… unseemly. She slowly straightens, keeping one hand on Corin’s head as he shifts to cling to her leg instead of her torso. “That would be very kind of you.”

The stranger turns and takes a couple of steps before he stops and looks back at her.

Dulsissia takes a deep breath, strokes Corin’s hair and then the two follow this armored stranger.

-

Their mysterious saviour doesn’t speak again until he comes to a halt at the outskirts of the busy marketplace filled with all kinds of shouting merchants and odd smells. “Will you be okay here?”

Dulsissia nods again, eager to be rid of him.

“Mommy…” Corin tugs at her skirts. “I’m hungry…”

“I know, baby.” Dulsissia replies, stroking his hair and feeling the urge to cry again. She wants to crouch down, look him in the eyes and explain things, but she doesn’t dare take her eyes of the stranger.

He’s looking at Corin.

“Can we eat here, Mommy?” Corin asks with hope in his voice.

“Later, baby.” Dulsissia replies and hopes with all her heart that she isn’t lying.

The helmet shifts its attention up to her, the t-shaped visor feels like it is burrowing under her skin, and the stranger stares at her for several long seconds. “Let me buy you some food.”

Dulsissia swallows hard. “That is very kind of you, but you’ve already done enough…”

A glance down at Corin again and then back at her, and the stranger nods towards the food stalls. “Come. The boy can choose. Anything he wants.”

Corin tugs eagerly at her skirt and she dares a glance down at her son. His eyes are filled with excitement instead of worries for the first time since they’d been forced to leave their apartment. His little face is dirty, she notes with a jab of disappointment in herself. Forcing herself to smile, she nods to Corin and makes herself look at the stranger’s visor. “If you insist.”

The stranger gestures for them to take the lead and they do.

Not long after that, they are seated by a table, Dulsissia and Corin on one side, the stranger sitting at the opposite side, and the boy is inhaling the huge plate of deep fried ‘something’ in front of him. Dulsissia uses the opportunity to wipe off some of the dirt on Corin’s face before shifting more food from her plate over to his.

The silent stranger watches her and while she can’t see his eyes, she can feel them. Strangely enough it doesn’t feel like he’s ogling her like those men had. Dulsissia gets the feeling that he’s trying to figure her out. Like she’s some puzzle to him.

Like he wasn’t the mysterious one? Appearing out of the shadows to save her from horrors? Offering to buy food for her child? Declining to get anything to eat for himself but insisting she get food too.

Dulsissia looks directly at his visor, sees the helmet move a little as he shifts his gaze away, if she didn’t know better she’d say a little embarrassed after getting caught looking at her. “What is your name?” She asks.

“I’m Davarax.” He replies. “May I ask for yours?”

“Dul-” Oh, old habit, she wasn’t supposed to use her real name, “-cy. I’m Dulcy. And this..” Dulsissia places her hand on Corin’s head to introduce him, but the boy beats her to it.

“I’m Corin!” He grins, mouth filled with food.

Dulsissia closes her eyes for a second. So much for not using their real names. She glues on a smile and looks over at Davarax again. “Dulcy and Corin.”

“Why are you wearing a helmet?” Corin asks and she prods his shoulder, reminding him not to speak with his mouth full and to stop asking questions. He closes his mouth and chews.

“I am a Mandalorian.” Davarax replies, as if he didn’t mind answering. (Macero would always get annoyed when Corin asked about anything.) “My Creed tells me to always wear it.”

“Always?” Corin’s eyes go huge again. “How do you eat?”

Davarax exhales what sounds like a little laugh. “I can take it off when I’m alone.”

Dulsissia frowns a little. She’s heard about Mandalorians, has she not? Mercenaries? It would certainly explain why he was so efficient in shooting those two men and seem completely unfazed by the situation. It would also explain why he’s so… muscular.

“My turn to ask a question.” Davarax says and turns his attention to her. “Do you have a weapon?”

-

Suddenly all the anxiousness that had been starting to seep away rushes back into her and Dulsissia tenses up. She tries to keep a blank expression. She shakes her head.

Sighing, Davarax nods. “Thought as much.” He reaches down his side. “On this planet, looking like you do and with a kid to keep safe, you’re going to need a weapon to protect yourself and him with.” Pulling up a fierce looking vibro-blade, Davarax doesn’t activate it, merely flips it over to hold the blade while offering her the hilt. “Here. Take it.”

She hesitates, but eventually Dulsissia cautiously reaches out and takes the weapon. It feels cold and heavy in her hand. For the third time in a short time, Corin’s eyes grow huge.

“Don’t hesitate.” Davarax tells her. “If someone comes after you, deal with them. Swift and hard. No regret. Understand?”

Looking from the blade and over to him, to the emotionless t-visor, Dulsissia manages a faint nod.

It’s the first time she’s ever held a weapon of any kind. Not counting cutlery. Or gossip. An actual weapon. And she’s not entirely sure she likes the feeling. It’s intimidating.

But she pulls the blade close and decides to keep it. While she might not like the feel of a weapon, she will use it to protect her son. That’s not even a hard choice to make. “Thank you.”

Davarax nods, pleased at her accepting it.

“Why are you helping us?” Dulsissia asks, shame burning in her cheeks at having to accept pity from strangers.

“Because you needed help.” Davarax replies. “Because no real Mandalorian will turn their back on a child in distress.”

Suddenly curious, Dulsissia asks before she can stop herself. “Do you have children?”

“Four. Four amazing little ones.” Davarax replies with badly hidden pride. His shoulders even pull back a little in a preening move that he’s definitely not aware of as he follows it up with an awkward shrug right after. “I mean… Technically they’re not mine. I’m their teacher.”

Dulsissia can’t help but to smile, charmed by his reply, and she remembers how she’d wished her tutor had been her real father. “Lucky them.”

Davarax shrugs again and to her amusement, the mighty warrior does appear a little awkward. He probably did not mean to reveal so much about himself. She hides a smile by daintily picking up a piece of food and nibbling on it while moving the rest over onto Corin’s plate.

“Should I get some more?” Davarax asks. “You should eat some too, you know.”

Dulsissia shakes her head, despite the hunger gnawing in her belly. As long as her son is full, she’s fine. And while Davarax did not hesitate to buy whatever food Corin had pointed at and has given her what looks to be a valuable vibroblade, she’s not blind to the worn down look of his armor and clothing. He might be generous, but he’s not rich.

After stuffing himself beyond what he probably should by cleaning the plate yet again, Corin makes a faint sound of pain and moves over to lean against her. “My tummy aches….”

“I’m not surprised,” Dulsissia replies with a smile, leaning down and kissing his hair, “you ate like a Rancor.”

Corin laughs a little but remains leaning against her and it doesn’t take long before he’s drowsing.

Sighing, Dulsissia strokes his dark hair and feels the guilt suffocating her again. Her poor boy is finally full, but now the exhaustion from barely any sleep over these last couple of nights is setting in and she needs to find out where to seek shelter for the night without any credits to pay for it.

Either Davarax reads her mind or he just picks up on Corin’s exhaustion, but he once again looks at the boy and then her and asks his question. “Where are you staying tonight?”

Dulssisia clenches her jaw and looks away. The humiliation burns.

A second pass, then two, and finally it seems like he understands. “Oh.” Silence follows and if not for how Corin is more of less asleep on her arm, Dulsissia would have walked away.

“Listen,” Davarax says, shifting his weight a little, “don’t take this the wrong way, but you two could join me in my room. This place is even less safe at night.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I would rent you your own room, but, well, they’re really-”

“Expensive, I know.” Dulsissia cuts him off. Her face is burning even hotter now, both with the continued humiliation of being broke and what sharing a room with a strange man might include.

“I give you my word you’ll be safe.” Davarax says with firm conviction. “Both of you.”

Dulsissia knows she shouldn’t. She knows it could be a trap. But she also knows she needs to find a place her son can sleep without fear or danger hanging over his head. “Tell me the names of your children.” She asks.

“Paz, Barthor, Raga and little Din.” Davarax replies no hesitation, but with a touch of confusion. “Why?”

Dulsissia smiles and shakes her head. “No reason. Just curious.” So he wasn’t lying about the children. He knew their names by heart. A teacher. She decides to risk it.

-

Corin is fast asleep by the time they decide to head to the inn. Dulsissia hoists him up and grunts with the effort. He’s still her baby boy, but he is definitely getting bigger. Arms and legs hanging down, dangling with the apathy only a sleeping child can produce, Corin burrows his face to her neck and sleeps on.

Seeing her struggle, Davarax reaches out. “Here. I’ll take him.”

“No.” Dulsissia’s answers is short and hard, and she turns to shield her son from the Mandalorian.

No one is taking her son away from her.

Davarax lifts his hands in a sign of backing off and nods. He then gestures to one of the large buildings looming behind the others. “This way.”

Dulsissia tries to focus on Davarax as they walk to avoid thinking about the weight of Corin. (He must be extra heavy from all the food.) The Mandalorian is tall. Dulsissia had some height on most women on Seswenna, but he is so tall he makes her seem short. And while the armor might make him seem even bigger, there is enough of him without the blue plates so she can tell that, yes, there is definitely muscle there. He walks with the grace of a predator.

Dulsissia feels a prickle of fear and is actually grateful for the reassuring weight of the vibroblade in her pocket.

They enter a grey tower of a building, head up to the third floor, passing by one rowdy soul after another, before entering the safety of their temporary refuge. The relief of being inside is quickly snuffed out by Dulsissia seeing, with rising despair, that there is only one bed in the room.

She clutches the sleeping Corin close, but doesn’t get the chance to panic or run for the door before Davarax walks over to the transparisteel and flips the switch to block the sound and light from outside and says; “Don’t worry. You two take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s okay, it’s what I usually do on missions anyway. Few places I travel to have inns.”

Dulsissia hesitates. It feels wrong that the man who had paid for the room was now forced to sleep on the floor, but… She looks at the sleeping boy in her arms and her heart breaks again. Her pride dictates that they’ve accepted far too much charity from this stranger as it is, but her maternal heart doesn’t care. Her boy can sleep in a bed tonight.

Gently easing Corin down on the bed, a wistful smile appears on her face when he makes a happy sound at the soft mattress and Dulsissia tucks him in. Once that is done, she turns to look over at where Davarax has settled on the floor next to the wall with the transparisteel.

He lies on his back, hands folded on his stomach, his blaster on the floor next to him, and his visor staring up at the ceiling. His helmet. He can’t even remove his helmet as long as they’re there. He hasn’t eaten either, only provided food to them.

Dulsissia swallows hard, reaches out and takes one of the two pillows on the bed, the one Corin is not using, before cautiously making her way over to Davarax. She holds it out to him.

He shakes his head. “I don’t need it. I’m used to this and the helmet has padding. It’s fine.”

“Please.” Dulsissia says. Her final fragment of pride giving up. She can’t pay him back, but… she can give him her pillow.

He looks over at her, watches her for a couple of seconds, then he slowly reaches out and takes the pillow. “Thanks.”

Dulsissia nods, turns away and walks back towards the bed and her sleeping son. She’s almost there when she hears Davarax speak.

“Are you two running away from something?”

With her back towards the Mandalorian, Dulsissia stands by the bed and looks at Corin. He looks peaceful and content. It takes so very little to make that boy happy. “Yes.” After everything this man has done for them, she can’t lie.

“Is there someone out there hunting you?”

Dulsissia closes her eyes. She sees Macero’s face. She knows he was probably beyond livid when he discovered what she’d done; taken their son and disappeared. Left him. She knows his pride will never give up and that he is searching for them this very moment. “Yes.”

Davarax doesn’t ask any more questions so she climbs into bed and curls herself around her son. She has no idea what to do tomorrow, but Dulsissia is so very, very tired… and soon she’s asleep.

-

A gentle grip on her shoulder wakes her the next morning and she opens her eyes with a violent start that also wakes her son and has him go from relaxed to frightened within a second.

“Sorry.” Davarax says, pulling his hand away. “I tried to call your name. Neither of you responded. I was starting to worry there was something wrong.”

Dulsissia sits up and automatically pulls Corin close, wrapping her arms protectively around him despite how he calmed the second he saw the Mandalorian. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I was more tired than I…” She sees the small table to the left has several small containers with what her nose tells her is food. Davarax can’t eat his breakfast before they’re gone. “...than I was aware of.” She lamely finishes and dreads the second Corin smells it too. How is she to explain to him that she has no breakfast for him? “We’ll be out of your room in a minute.”

Davarax gestures to the table. “Eat. Please.”

Corin’s head snaps up and he scouts around the room. “Breakfast?” He starts pushing his mother away, trying to free himself. “So hungry!”

“Baby, no.” Dulsissia says, holding him back. “That’s Davarax’ food.”

“I ate earlier.” Davarax says, walking over to flip the switch that will make the tansparisteel let light and sound in again. “This is for you two.”

Letting Corin go in another wave of defeat, feeling like an utter failure, Dulsissia just sits on the bed while her son eats. Corin happily digs into the containers and pulls out treats with glee.

“Dulcy…” Davarax says, and his voice is suddenly so very soft and gentle. Like he isn’t some random stranger they just met, who has done more for her son than she’s been able to do in days. Like he is someone who cares. “You have to eat.”

Nodding, she’s used to doing what she’s told, Dulsissia gets up and walks over to the table. The first mouthfuls are difficult, she’s struggling not to spit it back out, but then Corin looks over at her and gives her a wide, happy grin. He lost a tooth last week. Her sweet baby boy.

Okay, enough self-pity. Keep going, girl. For Corin.

Dulsissia eats.

By the time they leave the room, Corin is both filled up with food and sleep and is once again the energetic child she’d seen during the first weeks of their freedom. He’s running around, exploring and darting back to her and Davarax when things get too scary, and Dulsissia smiles. She has a moment of fear when Corin decides to jump up and grab a hold of Davarax’ arm and use him as a rope-swing, but instead of getting angry, the Mandalorian merely sways him back and forth. He even answers every single one of Corin’s billion questions until Dulsissia orders her son to stop pestering the man.

The sun is almost strong enough to break through the heavy smoke in the sky today. Corin is watching a couple of teenage Zabraks play some game with a leatherball in an empty parking area while Dulsissia and Davarax sit on a fallen tree nearby.

“Your children,” Dulsissia says, happy to pretend this is just a normal day, “what are they like?”

Davarax hums and there is a smile in that sound. “Paz was my first. He’s a handful. He’s as tall and broad-shouldered as kids five years older than him and he loves to pick fights. But once you get under that tough surface, that boy is a giant softie who thinks it is his job to look after everyone. Barthor, my second one, is the most clever creature I’ve ever met. His intelligence is off the charts. He gets frustrated because the rest of us take so long to catch up to what he already knows, poor soul. Now, my third, Raga…” Davarax sighs and looks over at her. “She’s the scary one. Paz more or less persuaded me to train her because no one else wanted her. Her temper, teeth and absolute lack of fear has made her quite infamous at the Covert. It’s a shame so few get to see her sweet side, because she does have one.” The Mandalorian turns his attention over to Corin. “And then there is little Din. Your boy reminds me of him. I found Din shortly after his parents were killed. He was adopted by some friends of mine, but I get the feeling it’s not going too well…”

Mesmerized, Dulsissia cannot imagine for a second that Macero would be this caring about any of his children that he’d end up having. “They are lucky to have you.”

Davarax shrugs. “I feel like I’m the lucky one. Children are a blessing to Mandalorians.”

Smiling, Dulsissia looks over at Corin as well and they sit in silence for a while.

“I have to leave soon.” Davarax says, blurting it out as if he’s been holding it in for a while.

The words act like a fist clenching around Dulsissia’s stomach. She’d known this was just a temporary break in the nightmare that is her life these days, a brief respite, but she still hates that it has to end already. “Oh.” Corin is going to be devastated too.

“I finished my mission this morning when I got the food.” Davarax says. “I have to go back to the Covert. Report in. Check on my kids. Do some repairs on my ship.”

Dulsissia nods, but can’t look over at him. “I understand.” She forces herself to smile again. She’s good at that. “Well, thank you for everything you’ve done for us. For saving me, but most of all for the kindness you’ve shown Corin. He hasn’t had much of that in his life…”

Davarax doesn’t answer right away and she worries that her words hadn’t been grateful enough. She’s just distracted by how she can feel despair snapping at her heels at the thought of what lies ahead of her. She will fight a way to feed and house her son, but she knows it won’t be easy. And it scares her how close she’d been to going back to Macero…

“You could come with me?” Davarax says the words with the amount of caution you’d use for a skittish dewback. “You and Corin, you could come stay at the Covert for a while. You would be safe from alley creepers and no one would find you there.”

Dulsissia stares at him. “But… I’m not a Mandalorian. Neither is Corin.”

“The leader of our Tribe will let you two stay if I ask her.” Davarax sounds certain in his words. “I promise you, there will be a place for you there. We can teach you how to fight, how to protect yourself and your son. We can help you keep him safe.”

Dulsissia considers it, looks over at her son and knows what he would say, but the boy is too trusting. Corin still thinks his father is a good man at heart. “If he found out, he would destroy your Covert. I can’t repay your kindness by bringing evil to your door.”

“I can promise you,” Davarax leans closer, “that if this fool tries to challenge my Tribe, we won’t be the ones to be destroyed.”

[doubleleoenergy]

IV; BLUE BAYOU SERIES

Oh that boy of mine, by my side. The silver moon and the evening tide.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: TFAWS!Sam Wilson x fem!Reader

Summary: Sam and y/n build furniture and decorate his home now that y/n has moved in.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY; oral (male receiving), face-fucking, Daddy kink, spanking, LOTS of dirty talk, basically plot at the beggining section and PORN at the end.

Word Count: 4553

Author’s Notes: This just proves that 1) Sam and Bucky are the bestest of friends, 2) Bucky has got someone on the brain, and 3) I am a whore for Daddy Sam.

Two weeks after their bedroom escapade y/n tugs nervously on the end of her cream-colored cardigan, biting her lip. She’s finally finished getting ready in Sam’s bedroom, having tried on multiple outfits for him to choose between before settling on the pale blue floral print fit and flare dress, cream cardigan, and white strappy wedges. Her curls lay tousled down her back, her face fresh with a light coating of mascara and her favorite coconut flavored Chapstick upon her lips.

Today was very important, well, at least SHE felt it was important. Sam and y/n were going out to lunch to meet Bucky, his best friend and work partner. She’d heard plenty of stories about the ‘white wolf’ as Sam teasingly referred to him, had been briefed on his vibranium arm and to not be worried if he looks like he’s constantly pissed off, it was just his RESTING face.

“You look beautiful.” Sam came up behind her as y/n put her gold hoops in her ears, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing the exposed skin at her collarbone. “If Bucky wasn’t such a stickler on meeting at noon, I’d strip you down…do those things with my tongue that drive you WILD…” A moan slips from y/n’s lips, turning around in his grip to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Well maybe if I don’t embarrass myself in front of Bucky, we can do all of that when we get back.” She plants a quick kiss to his lips, moving over to the bed to grab her crossbody brown purse.

“You’re not going to EMBARRASS yourself. Bucky is cool, and he’ll love you.” Well, he was cool NOW. Ever since their mission in New York and the cookout back in Louisiana that Sam invited Bucky to things had been MUCH better. Sam moved to the dresser to grab his wallet and his keys, stepping back over to grab y/n’s hand with his free one.

“I mean it, don’t worry. Besides, I didn’t even particularly LIKE Bucky until a few months ago, you’ve got no need to feel any pressure to impress him.” He plants one more kiss to her lips, tugging her towards the front door to get into his truck.

When they arrived at their favorite diner Bucky was already inside, sitting down at their usual booth in the back corner. He had tossed aside his leather jacket next to him, his eyes scanning over the menu as if he didn’t already know what to order.

The door to the diner chimed as they walked through, Bucky turning around with a smile when he noticed Sam. “You’re a minute LATE.” He announced, holding up his phone to show him the time. Technology was sweet now that he had it at his fingertips. Sam rolled his eyes, walking forward and embracing Bucky in a hug, patting his back as he did so.

“A minute is NOTHING, but I guess I should know better than to keep an old man waiting.” The two laughed together, letting go of the embrace before Sam motions for y/n to move next to him. “Bucky, this is my girlfriend, y/n. Y/N this is Bucky.”

Y/N watches as Bucky sticks out his hand for her to shake, the non-vibranium hand that is. She takes it in her small one, giving it a good motion up and down. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam has told me so much about you.” She chirps, finally taking in his features. His eyes were a DAZZLING blue, his smile wide, and his brows thick. He wore a grey t-shirt that looked a little too tight, showing off his muscular frame through the thin fabric. His vibranium arm, the one that Sam mentioned, was completely exposed but seemed to fit in with the rest of his appearance.

“Likewise, sometimes I have to tell Sam to shut the HELL up so we can actually get some work done.” He teased, letting go of her hand.

Bucky motions for them to sit, sliding back into his side of the booth with Sam and y/n sliding in across from him. As soon as they did a PERKY blonde waitress walked over, flashing a bright smile at all of them before settling her gaze on Bucky. It was clear she thought he was attractive, keeping her eyes on him as she pulled out her pad of paper.

“Hello, my name is MARISSA.” She gushed, tilting forward ever so slightly to expose her chest to Bucky. He paid no attention though, his eyes typing away at his phone.

“Black coffee, short stack of pancakes, side of bacon please.” He slid his menu towards her direction and she quickly jotted it down, a blush appearing on her cheeks. Bucky kept his eyes still on his phone.

“R-right, okay and uh, and what can I get ya’ll?” She finally looks at them and y/n can see a twinge of embarrassment on her face for having been ignored by the chiseled man. 

“I’ll have the breakfast burrito with an extra side of sausage and a coffee with vanilla creamer please.” Sam responds, plopping his menu on top of Bucky’s. Y/N scans the menu once more, turning her attention to the waitress. “I’ll have the Belgian waffle with strawberries please, and a glass of water.”

Marissa finishes jotting down their order, grabbing the menus and then looking once more at Bucky, a slight frown on her face, before walking away. Bucky finishes up whatever he was doing on his phone, setting it upside down on the table and moving his attention back to the pair in front of him.

“So, y/n, I heard you moved from Colorado. How are you liking it here during the summer heat?” Y/n tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, placing her hands in her lap. “It’s been great so far, it’s an interesting little town. PLUS, I have this guy by my side.” She playfully nudges Sam, eliciting a laugh from his lips.

He moves his hand to hers, gripping it under the table. “Sam says you two have a lot of fun together on your missions, do you have a uniform like him?” Bucky laughs, making his nose scrunch up on his face. “No, that’s BIRD-BRAIN’S thing.” He teases. “I’m what they call a super soldier, that makes me SO much cooler than Sam.” Another joke. Y/N seems to think this is a good sign. “But yeah, we do have a lot of fun on our missions. Some are harder than others of course, but we haven’t died so far.”

Marissa comes back with the men’s coffee and y/n’s water, eyes flickering towards Bucky again. He finally acknowledges her presence, eyes finding her nametag against her shirt. “Thank you, Marissa.” He affirmed. She walked away, giddy that Bucky said her name, as both men take a sip from their mugs.

“Well, whatever you do I’m sure it’s very important. Sam sounds lucky to have you.” She quipped. They seemed like a natural pair, their personalities seemed to mesh, ESPECIALLY their sarcasm. 

“Y/N is pretty impressive too; she’s got her PhD in sociology and teaches at Northwood.” Sam adds, a proud smile on his face. Being with her made him look BETTER and FEEL better, and he loved being able to show her and all her accomplishments off. A deep blush creeps over her cheeks at his words, squeezing his hand under the table. 

“Well that IS impressive, congratulations. Sociology seems like an interesting topic to teach. Are you a harsh professor?” Bucky questioned, raising a thick eyebrow in her direction. Y/N shakes her head, she DEFINITELY wasn’t a stickler like some of her colleagues.

“No, not harsh at all. I believe it’s important to get students PASSIONATE about what they learn in order bring awareness and CHANGE. I teach three different courses: Social Inequality, Racism and Inequality, and Toolkit for Activism and Advocacy. We have our required midterm and final, but most of the time is filled with lectures, documentaries, and discussions on the topics we cover.” Her eyes light up with passion as she talks, and it makes Sam’s heart flutter. Even Bucky seems to be enthralled listening to her.

“Well, if I were a student, I’d take one of your classes for SURE.” Their conversation is interrupted briefly by Marissa dropping off their plates, trying to get Bucky to notice her again but with no success. They start to chow down on their food, the sounds of forks and knives moving, and mugs being picked up and put down being the only sounds at their table. Eventually as their stomachs start to fill the silence ends, talking about some of Sam and Bucky’s favorite missions, what y/n’s favorite books were, and even their shared connection to the armed forces.

They finally finish devouring their brunch and Bucky sits back against his booth, arms spreading out over the back of it. Marissa finally drops off their checks, trying ONE last time to get Bucky’s attention but he’s distracted in conversation with Sam about their next meeting with Torres. Sam INSISTS on paying for y/n’s meal along with his own, and y/n decides not to protest this time. She’d get the next one.

Bucky pulls a wad of bills from his wallet, setting down enough to pay for the food and a tip before he stands up, pulling his leather jacket on over his tight grey shirt. They all thank Marissa on their way passed her to move out the door, the familiar chime going off as they step outside into the bright sunshine. Sam turns to face Bucky once more to give him a final hug.

“I’ll see you next week, noon on the DOT.” Bucky mumbles, and Sam can’t help but laugh, stepping back so that y/n can say her goodbye to him as well. Before y/n can decide whether it would be awkward to shake hands again or just nod in his direction, Bucky pulls her into his side for a hug, using his vibranium arm.

“It was great to meet you, y/n. I hope that Sam doesn’t keep you to himself forever, I’d love for us all to go out to a bar or something next time.” Bucky lets go of her side and y/n takes a step back, grabbing Sam’s hand in hers. “It was GREAT to meet you too. And sounds good, first rounds on me when we do.” She agreed.

Bucky turns with a quick wave of his hand, the couple turning in the opposite direction to head to Sam’s truck. The walk is short, and Sam moves instinctively to open y/n’s door before hopping in the driver’s side and starting it up.

“Well that wasn’t so bad was it?” He asked, his hand settling to grip her thigh as he drove. 

“No, not at all. He seems like an awesome guy. I’m sure it’s nice to work with someone you’re close with.” Her eyes turn to look up at him, head resting back on her seat. God, she’s so smitten with him and it’s only been two weeks. He checked every box, even checking boxes she didn’t even know NEEDED to be checked.

He squeezes her thigh, teasing her slightly. He cannot WAIT to get home and tear off that short little dress of hers. “Yeah it is nice, although, did you notice how HARD that waitress was trying to get his attention? I mean, usually Bucky is all sorts of flirty but today there was nothing.”

They both laughed, y/n moving her hand to turn the volume up on Sam’s Marvin Gaye CD. She had taken quite a liking to his taste in music since they started seeing each other.

“It was SUPER obvious. I wonder why he didn’t flirt back.”

The past two weeks were a blur, Sam having gone on another mission and y/n finishing up with midterms for her summer classes. In their spare time, y/n INSISTED that Sam needed to make his place more of a HOME. 

When Sam decided to move back to Louisiana, he had managed to buy a small two-bedroom, two-bathroom house a few miles down the road from Sarah’s place. After years in the service and moving back to civilian life, Sam still struggled with really making his place feel like home. Now that y/n was spending the night more often, enjoying the quiet that his house brought over the loud family that lived above her apartment, they felt it was time to UPGRADE.

Last week had been spent picking between paint swatches and painting the different rooms in Sam’s house, stopping frequently for some HOT sex on the hardwood floor. Sam had his bedroom furniture but was still missing living room furniture, kitchen furniture, and décor to tie it all together. At least, that’s how y/n put it.

They had just finished up their shopping adventure at IKEA, Home Goods, and Target, truck bed loaded with STUFF. Probably more stuff than they needed but y/n would make sure to return what they didn’t want.

“You know I’ll have to put together that kitchen table, chairs, AND the coffee table when we get back right? And the couch from Home Goods won’t even be delivered until Sunday.” Y/N smiles, rolling down the window and sticking her hand out, feeling the hot sun and the cool breeze on her skin.

“That’s fine, you can put that all together while I decorate everything.” She was excited, Sam was totally fine with letting her have control of the colors and patterns, really EVERYTHING.

Within a few minutes they had pulled up to the front of the house, Sam opening the bed of the truck so he can start grabbing the items. Y/N grabs a few of the bags, Sam shaking his head at her. “I told you, you don’t need to carry anything in, I got this.” Her brows furrow, setting the bags in her hands down in the empty space of the living room and following Sam back out the door for another load. “I’m COMPLETELY capable of carrying some of these. Besides, I have to catch up to YOUR physicality still.”

Sam laughs, tugging her against his waist and kissing her passionately. “You don’t need to catch up, your body is already HEAVENLY as it is.” He should have used the word SINFUL instead, the things she did to him. He shakes his head to get the thought out of his mind, grabbing the box with the parts to the table and carrying it over his shoulder.

Once they finished unloading the truck Sam got to work putting together the coffee table while y/n emptied the items from the bags, sorting them on the floor for the areas they would go in. She took the different canvas pictures they had picked, holding them against the wall of the living room to decide where she wanted to hang them. Once deciding on the perfect spots, y/n grabbed the step stool, nails, and hammer and got to work. The canvas pictures they chose for the living room were an ombre style of blues that would pop well against the cream-colored wall.

After they were hung, she stood back, closing one eye and then the next to check on their levels. “What do you think?” She asked, turning to Sam for approval. He had made quick work of the coffee table, screwing in the last few spots and jiggling it to check its sturdiness. “The table’s done.” Sam stood up and eyed the paintings, nodding his head. “Those look PERFECT there. I’m going to move on to the kitchen table and chairs while you work in here.” He placed a quick kiss to her cheek before moving into the space of the kitchen, opening the box and laying out all his parts.

With the coffee table done, y/n moved all the items purchased to the far side of the room, giving her plenty of space to roll out the new navy colored rug for the area. She made sure it was flattened properly before dragging over the coffee table, carefully setting it on top. Once she’s finished, she fans the coasters they had purchased on the table before moving to look through the other décor pieces they’d chosen.

Y/N was having so much fun letting her creativity out. It wasn’t long before she was moving all over the rooms, placing a framed picture of his nephews here and another framed picture of him and y/n there. It was all coming together, throw pillows added to the bed with a few others set aside for when the couch would arrive, more picture frames with photos Sam had chosen of family and friends scattered throughout the house. New rugs, shower curtains, and towels in both bathrooms.

While Sam finished up the last chair for the dining set y/n put together a floor lamp for the living room, moving the other side lamp to the bedroom before walking around each space and making sure everything was in its proper place. There were a few items she had chosen for the space that didn’t quite work once she finished including another colorful canvas, a fake potted plant, and some extra throw pillows that she didn’t end up liking for the bedroom. Those were put away in a bag by the door waiting to be returned.

“Babe, what do you think?” She turns her head in Sam’s direction, calling for him to look at what she’s done while he busy was putting the furniture together. Sam brushes off his hands, standing up and walking from room to room inspecting her work. He had to admit, the place looked MUCH better. The best touch was all the framed photos y/n had printed and scattered throughout the house. With the changes she had made it really DID feel like a home.

Sam moved last into the living room where y/n stood, taking in the rest of the décor. “I…” He cleared his throat, hand nervously scratching at the back of his neck. He hadn’t felt this before, this PERMANANCE. The house was the first step, the roots that were grounding him here, and now everything seemed right. Even his old place that he’d been in when Steve and Natasha first visited him hadn’t made him feel like this, feel this HAPPY to be in his space.

“I love it, I can’t thank you enough for all of this.” She can tell he’s holding back tears as he speaks and she shushes him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

“Hey, it’s OKAY. I’m just happy you like it. I know how hard it is to make a place feel like home.” Growing up after her dad passed NOTHING really felt like home. Colorado was the closest she came to that, but it still wasn’t the same feelings she had when she was little and her father was still alive.

Sam wrapped his arms around her waist, bending his head down to nuzzle against her neck. “Of course I like it, I love everything you do. I love…” He trails off, moving his head back up to meet her gaze.

“Baby I…I LOVE you. And I don’t want to be afraid to say it. I want you to know that and I want you to know that this is your space too.” Y/N’s cheeks hurt from how big she was smiling at his words. “I love you TOO. So much Sam.”

He clears his throat, a hand coming up to rest on her cheek. “Which is why I was hoping that maybe you would be interested in getting out of your lease a bit early to…move in with me?” He doesn’t know what the point would be of setting up the house to be a HOME without her in it. He wanted it to be their home, together.

“I-Of course I want to move in. I mean, yes, I will.” She laughs, pulling him in for a kiss. His hands move under her ass, scooping her up in his arms. He was so HAPPY, their lips dancing along each other’s as they continued to kiss, his teeth jutting out to bite down on her bottom lip, eliciting a moan from her.

“How about we make sure that kitchen table is STURDY?” He asks, moving his lips to pepper kisses down her neck. He walks towards the table, y/n still in his arms, setting her ass down on the top he had just built. The table stays still under here weight, her fingers moving down to the hem of his shirt to pull it off. She trails her nails down his chest, marking the skin gently and watching as the marks faded.

“Baby, you always do so much for me, want to make you feel GOOD.” She scoots back against the table, looking at him with lustful eyes. “Strip for me please.” Sam does as he’s told, tugging down his jeans and boxers and kicking them across the floor.

“You always make me feel good.” He responds, licking his lips. He watches her as she slips out of her tiny jean shorts and panties, tugging her coral tank top over her head. She slowly unhooks her bra, tossing it aside, leaving her naked on the table, THEIR table.

“I know, but I want to thank you for how well you treat me, want to show you how much I LOVE you.” It felt good to say it, as she had been wanting to since meeting Bucky two weeks ago. His eyes rake over her body as she moves her back flat against the table, her head moving to hang off the side towards. “Want you to use me, Daddy.” She purred, her voice dripping with desire saying the nickname he LOVED in bed. “Please come fuck my face Daddy.”

Sam groans, his cock twitching and erect against his chest. She was splayed out on the table, head back and ready for him to FUCK. He moves closer to her, stroking his cock until it was inches from her face. “Open your mouth baby.” She does as she’s told opening wide as she feels his cock sliding in inch by inch. Her head is throbbing a bit from hanging upside down, but she didn’t CARE. His sliding inward stops when he hears her gag around him, moving out so just the tip rested on her lips.

“Shh, baby, relax your throat, let Daddy all the way in.” Y/N takes a deep breath, opening her mouth wider for him to push inside, enveloping him with her lips. SLOWLY, continuing to breathe, she feels him bottom out at the back of her throat, a groan of approval leaving his mouth.

He picks up a slow rhythm at first, pulling back so just the tip is in her mouth before shoving his cock all the way in the back of her throat, watching how he looked all the way down her throat. “Fuck baby, that mouth is PHENOMENAL.” Sam picks up his pace again, his balls slapping on her nose as her saliva drips out of her mouth and onto the floor.

“Put your hands on your pussy baby, want you to play with yourself while I USE you.” She moans around his cock, her hand moving down to her core, rubbing her fingers against that perfect bundle of nerves. Sam watches her, slowing his motions slightly. “Fuck yourself on your fingers baby, want you to warm yourself up for Daddy’s cock.”

Her fingers move between her lips, pushing inside the wetness. She adjusts to them before pumping them in and out, continuing to lap at Sam’s cock that is now hanging above her mouth. Sam watches for a few moments, loving the way she’s splayed out for him on their new kitchen table.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty, I can hear how wet you are while you’re fucking yourself.” He moves his cock straight down her throat one last time, causing her to cough before he pulls completely out and steps back. “Get up and turn AROUND, put your ass in the air on the edge of the table.”

Y/N rolls her body over, saliva dripping down her face and neck as she did. She turns around, backing up until her ass is high in the air, feet hanging just slightly over the edge. “Yes Daddy.”

Sam moves forward, gripping her ass in his hand before giving the tanned skin a spank, y/n letting out a small whine at the pain. “Look at that pussy, so wet. Do you want my COCK inside you baby?” He teases his cock against her folds, a shiver of pleasure running down her spine.

“Fuck, yes Daddy please, want you to fill me FULL of your cock.” Sam smirks, one hand resting on her back, the other guiding his cock inside of her until he bottoms out. A groan escapes his lips, pulling his cock out of her pussy before slamming back into her again.

He continues to fuck her, a slew of cuss words and thank you leaving her slips. Sam moves one hand up her back, fingers gripping a fistful of her hair and pulling her head back and her face up off the table. “Oh my god.” She cries out, eyes rolling back into her head. He’s pushing in and pulling out of her core, tugging her head back with each thrust.

“That’s it baby, you look so PRETTY on my cock, god I love you so much.” She whines again and he pulls her hair harder with another TUG. “Fucking you stupid huh? Are you becoming stupid on my cock, can’t even speak?” He pulls her head back, lips inches from her ear. “You’re Daddy’s dumb baby, aren’t you?” That familiar feeling inside her chest is building up, her breathing ragged. “Yes, Daddy, I’m your dumb baby, please let me cum. PLEASE.”

He lets go of her hair, letting her body fall back onto the table. “Yes, baby cum for me. Show Daddy HOW much you love him.” Within seconds her orgasm is ripping through her body, walls clenching tight onto his cock and she comes undone. “Yes, thank you Daddy!” He fucks her until her body calms down from her orgasm, pulling out and spanking her ass once more.

“Get down on your knees for me baby, want to cum inside that pretty MOUTH.” Y/N moves down off of the table, getting onto her knees in front of him and opening her mouth wide, sticking out her tongue. Sam moves right above her, stroking himself until he comes, coating her mouth and tongue with his stickiness. “Fuck, you can swallow baby.” She shuts her mouth, swallowing down the salty cum before he pulls on her chin, instructing her to get up.

When she does Sam immediately wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “You’re SO sexy. I love YOU.” He proclaims, fingers running through her hair. She curls into him, letting out a breathy laugh. “I love you too.” She looks back at the table then back up at him with a smile on her face.

“Guess the table’s sturdy enough.”

[granddaughterogg]

What’s death’s reaction to his s/o referring to him as their husband? Like maybe they go out somewhere and s/o has to introduce death to a friend they ran into in public and the first thing that comes to mind while they’re all frazzled is “Oh! This is my /husband/!”

It was Friday afternoon - the worst possible time for a grocery haul.

You've tried to communicate this to your Nephilim a few times before, but the message bounced off them. The Horsemen were perceptive people, but they've spent most of their lives under very different stars (or sometimes under no stars at all.) Never before had they to fit their undertakings within a 24-hour timetable. The intricate ways in which human society works were also all but lost on them. Repeated explanations that certain stuff has to be done at certain hours probably hacked a few good years off your lifespan.

 Maybe one day they'll finally learn, you thought, slowly and tenderly losing your shit. Until then - your shared home life was a path full of organizational hiccups. Chaos often took over.

Anyway, you lived with four oversized individuals who didn't really have to eat, but they sure enjoyed it - and three of them consumed heaps. This week it just so happened that Strife went MIA (as he often would), Fury was having a Hair Maintenance Day and War really needed some bonding time with his steed. Or something.

Thankfully Death remained the reliable one. He grabbed you, summoned Despair from his pocket dimension (Death really wasn't the man for cars) and off to the supermarket you two went.

What you faced was a typical Friday after hours stampede. Tired, frustrated consumers teemed the aisles, filling their enormous shopping carts, crashing their carts into other people's backsides and running them over other people's feet. The air was stuffy, filled with maniacally upbeat music and high-pitched wailing of children. 

It was sheer hell.

"Let's make this quick", you pleaded into your companion's ashy ear. "I don't know how long I can take it. Can we split the shopping list? I'll grab the groceries, you go get all the cleaning stuff and we'll meet here, okay, love?"

Death nodded, straightened himself to his whole impressive height and stalked away. You watched his wide frame part the sea of busy heads. No matter how thick the crowd, people always seemed to just naturally skip out of Death's way. A sensible instinct. Many heads have turned, the expression on their faces something between dumbfoundedness and awe. You've heard quite a few stifled "Damn!"s.

You reached for packaged rice, smirking. Your man was seven and a half feet tall, his skin the shade of bone, and no, he wasn't wearing a shirt.

You managed to persuade him to leave all his jangly ironmongery at home. That's enough Fitting In for one trip.

Death's dark head finally disappeared behind the shelves and your thoughts refocused on filling the cart. You were picking up some broccoli in the produce aisle when a high-pitched voice uttered your name.

You jumped.

"No way!!!" Something big and bright filled your field of vision. You picked up the dropped broccoli, blinked a few times, and the yellow shape refocused into a head of hair - a shiny lob dyed sunny blonde. Not one hair stuck out of place.

"It really is you!!!" squealed the head in glee. It belonged to a rather attractive woman in big rectangular sunglasses, her lips very finely painted fuchsia pink. She always looked like those ladies portrayed in the so-called ladies' magazines. Thin and poreless, exuding easy confidence that comes from not being broke even once in her whole life.

"Hi, Julianne", you groaned. There was no escaping it now.

"Honey!!! So glad to see you!!" professed the woman, eyeing you shrewdly from head to toe. She probably calculated the price of your whole outfit in her head right now - and the contents of your cart while she was at it. Drawing conclusions. Always have been good with maths. Fucking Julianne.

"I wrote to you on Facebook so many times!!" Multiple exclamation points have been her thing; apparently, this hasn't changed since high school. "Why did you never answer, silly? We had so much fun during our class reunion..."

"Uh, I bet", you murmured. You wouldn't step back within your old school walls even if they paid you. "Sorry for going no contact. I've had a lot on my plate recently, you know -"

"Like what?" the woman tilted her shapely head, her attitude playful, but also slightly accusatory.

It made you angry. 

Remember the Apocalypse, Julianne? Remember when you slipped into non-existence among most of the human race? I bet you don't. I bet you decided to forget this ever happened. Like so many others did. Well, I didn't die, so I can't forget. Someone saved me and I got to traverse many different realms side by side with a Horseman of the fucking Apocalypse. And then he gave his life away, and later got brought back to life by his brother, who is also a Horseman - and we've been living together ever since...

Of course, you didn't say any of that out loud. You stood there, fondling the lush green broccoli in your hands. What even was the point?

"Oh, you know. I got into a relationship..." 

"You did?"

You looked her dead in the eye - blue and suddenly wide under the swanky shades - and could tell that this was a direct hit.

"Well, yeah." You smiled at Julianne. "Those things happen, you know."

"Sure, sure!! But frankly, out of all of us, I'd never suspect you to settle with a man and all..." 

"Excuse me?"

Julianne held at a strand of her perfect, shiny hair and then let go. "You were always quite the feminist after all..."

"What does this have to do with - " you blurted out and stopped mid-sentence because Death emerged from behind the shelves. His arms were full of various cleaning stuff.

"I've got everything from the list", he said. "I've also got at least partially deaf. Are we done here?"

A wide smile upturned the corners of your mouth - this time a genuine one because Julianne looked like a startled fish. She stared at you, then at the ashy, muscular, hulking giant at your side, then back at your beaming face.

Pettiness is the dish of the gods. 

"Death, love, meet Julianne", you said gracefully. "Julianne, this is Death. My husband."

The words slipped out of you on their own.

You tossed him a panicked, beseeching look, but your Nephilim was game. Maybe his eyebrow quivered a little; it happened so fast that Julianne would never notice. She was too busy ogling rocky abs of this man you've settled with.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance", said Death in his most velvety, bordering-on-indecent tone. Julianne just nodded back stiffly, as if submerged in a trance.

You left the supermarket soon after that.

A strange, playful little smile twirled your Horseman's lips while he loaded all the groceries into Despair's saddlebags. Thankfully those operated on the principle of magic, not physics, or the horse's spectral back would break.

"I assume that wasn't a friend." You spent all the way to the parking lot trying not to look him in the face. The words startled you.

"Hell no. She's a bitch."

"Ah." That was his whole answer. Finally, all the groceries have been stuffed into the magic pocket space. Death turned around, clasped his hands to your waist and lifted you onto the saddle. His movements bore such effortless grace. It happened so many times and you still weren't over how inhumanely strong this man is.

He sat right behind you. You clasped both hands on the saddle's horn, discreetly basking in this soothing feeling that being surrounded by Death's powerful physique gave you. 

His torso pressed into your back, his strong thighs almost touching yours. This bliss would never get old.

"You know, I can't help but wonder." Death's deep voice was like a silky needle, injected into your frayed nerves. "Why did you call me this word?"

"It...just felt right", you said, staring at Despair's pointy ears, wreathed with spectral discharge. The horse turned his humongous head as if asking: Can we go now? But your companion wasn't done yet.

"Do you wish for me to take your hand in marriage?"

You almost keeled over.

"Damn, D! Well...I...I don't want to force any more human stuff on you, you know?"

He leaned over; long, black strands of hair grazed your mouth. Death looked you in the face. You'd rather he didn't.

"Do you or do you not?"

"Damn, I do. I'd absolutely love to. But you have to live in this human world with me and you're constantly surrounded by alien stuff and alien customs which don't hold much meaning to you, and that would just be...another one of those things, right?" you murmured, lowering your head.

"I'm surrounded by alien stuff wherever I go", said Death softly. "I don't have a place I'd call home."

"I know! But it's hard!" you admitted. "You're always asking me what is it that I want. But marriage is one of those things that have to be desired by both people equally, or it means nothing..."

You suddenly felt very small and rather sad.

"I don't want you to get entangled in something that you have no use for", you whispered, pinning your eyes to the worn-off leather of the saddle. "Not just for me."

Death didn't answer for a good while. Then his big hand covered yours and squeezed it slightly.

Before you've met him, you always imagined that Death's touch must be freezing cold. That was not true.

"I understand", he said, "and I am grateful for your candour."

He nudged the horse and off you went, both unusually quiet.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Chizuru Town (Part 1)

In the game you wake up on the beach in Chizuru with NO IDEA how you got there.

I have a little fun with it. Enjoy!

“MC!”

The children’s voices were happy and oddly squeaky. They draw you out of unconsciousness. Your body feels a bit cold, and you shiver. 

“MC!” They keep calling you. You’re lying face up but their hands are pressed against your back. They keep pushing you from below.

You take a breath and feel the cold shock of water up your nose. The choking sensation makes you want to bolt upright but something is holding you up on the surface of the water. You catch a glimpse of silver grey, rubbery skin. A thin slit in that skin opens and sprays a mist with a sharp whoosh. The children’s voices are replaced by the squealing and whistling of dolphins.

Dolphins! Their sharp pointed fins are cutting through the water. You can see their bright eyes turn to look up at you. The way their mouths curve in their snouts gives them a smile. But they were powerful, insistent creatures. The moment you tried to swim on your own, they pushed you out of the water again.

The salt water in your mouth, the frigid breeze against your sun warmed skin told you this wasn’t a dream. You’d heard stories of dolphins rescuing people before, but you’d never actually thought you’d get to experience being carried on these muscular bodies. 

There were more surrounding you. Their sparkling backs broke the surface, no doubt watching. One eventually peeled off and another replaced them and you realized they were taking turns carrying you along. The sun was about halfway across the sky now and you could see the sparkling white sand of a small beach. The beach was only a few yards wide before it hit the seawall. You could climb up the seawall by what looked like stairs that led to a main street.

You gather your arms about yourself. What little clothing had survived the ghost tooth dragon vipers was torn away by the water and water-born debris. You were completely naked. You already were in the country illegally. You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you just showed up completely exposed like this. But how would you get any clothing?

The dolphins didn’t care about this at all. They pressed forward. If they knew anything about humans, it was that humans belonged on land and, for whatever reason, they had made it their mission to get you to the land as soon as possible. They pushed you with their snouts so hard you thought you might bruise and swam so quickly, you formed a wake in the water. You were already weak from fatigue and dehydration. There was no way you could fight them.

So you are pushed like a buoy towards the shore. When the water got too shallow the dolphins were forced to turn back or risk beaching themselves. Still, they swam a close distance away. Your body was shaking at a steady constant rate and the warm sand was irresistible. You lay down and sigh.

After a bit of rest, you pick a shadier spot against the wall, out of the sun and hopefully out of the prying eyes of people walking by. The dolphins follow you, spy hopping and watching. This was all so surreal.

You were supposed to be dead.

Again.

When you were younger, you read a book about a world where there was almost no difference between heaven, hell, and the living world. People died and woke up again to a place they found familiar and only vaguely strange. The book was deliberately unsettling, meant to blur the line between reality and dreams. The protagonist wasn’t sure if he was still alive, in heaven, or in hell, and the reader was not to know either until the end.

You’re feeling this way now. You thought you had died in the Arctic ocean, only to be thrown into a chaotic dragonslaying academy. Now you thought you died, only to wake up to a school of dolphins after nearly getting eaten by a dragon.

How are you alive after all that has happened? Maybe you weren’t alive. Maybe this was hell and you were suffering multiple deaths. The dolphins chattered brightly ahead of you, but now their sounds seemed more like they were mocking you, naked, on the sand alone, alive again with no friends.

There was no sign of Lu Mingfei, Chu Zihang or Caesar Gattuso. Were they saved by dolphins too? Or left to drown and be eaten? Was God only with you and not with them? Your mind starts to form an idea. You can test out this theory. Worst case scenario was that you died for real and you’d long since gotten over that fear.

You stand up and brush the sand off your bare bottom. You would take your time to rest and hide out until night fell and then use the dark to your advantage. 

Fatigue made you sleep longer than you wanted. Darkness has truly fallen when you wake up, stiff and achy. A greyish mat of sand has stuck to your whole body. You look back towards the ocean, but the dolphins are gone. You waddle out on wobbly legs and wash the sand away. After so much time in the water, the feel of it on your skin was suddenly abhorrent and you would be happy if you never spent another day in the ocean as long as you lived.

The theory that you’re actually dead and none of this was real was again challenged by how hard it was to make it up the stairs. You were so exhausted, starving and dehydrated that you swayed. You’d give anything for a bowl of hot ramen, served up fresh with a bit of egg floating on top.

You heard a voice cry out. A young couple was out for a stroll and had spotted you. You must look like a monster, hair long and matted and no clothes at all. Sure enough, they back away moaning with trembling voices before turning to run off, screaming something you can’t understand. Further up towards the street, you see bright lights. The smell of vendors cooking street food makes your stomach rumble. You couldn’t be out in the open, but maybe if you got close enough, you could dumpster dive and find some clothes. You sneak behind the back of the nearest building, a stucco box with a small front yard. The young man of the couple returns with a few other people. He’s speaking breathlessly, pointing towards the ocean. Poor guy. No doubt he thought he’d seen some ghost girl come from the ocean. This is probably something that would traumatize him for life.

You hear a small noise next to you. A little black cat is pawing at you. You could barely see it in the shadows. It didn’t care that you weren’t wearing clothes. Its fur was soft and warm and its purrs were comforting. You run your hand over its head and ears and it crawls into your lap. You would have liked to own a cat someday. You always liked them. They were funny and cute and very affectionate like this one. When you raise your eyes, your heart leaps. There are clothes hanging on a clothesline from a house not too far away!

You scramble quickly towards it, careful not to step on anything that might make noise. You check every gap to make sure that no one can see you. Then as soon as you reach the clothing, you carefully yank it off the line. It was just one of the local school uniforms. The white button down top was a bit small, but the wine-colored skirt fits you just fine around the waist. You were only a bit older than Renata when she died so this was probably the outfit of a highschool student.

Your eyes fall on the back door of the house. That’s right, Japanese don’t wear shoes in the house. These shoes were laid out neatly on the rack. You glance around and carefully approach, snatching what you hope will fit you. They’re just the right size, much to your shock. This surprise is enough to send a jolt of happiness through you. Now clothed, you return to the cat and pick it up in your arms and walk out on the street. The first thing you saw was a sign that said, Chizuru.

Before arriving in Japan, Norma, the school AI had told you about a place called Chizuru being a safe haven and to find an Internet Cafe there if you ever got into trouble. The hairs rose on the back of your arms. How could this be possible that dolphins not only save your life, but take you directly to the place that you needed to be? You sang the song that said ‘God is with you’ but it was supposed to be a metaphor right? 

You approach a man on the street who looks at you with a stunned expression. “I… excuse…”

Before you can ask anything, he shakes his head again and again and flees from you. “Wait! I need…”

You try again, this time of one of the vendors, an old craggy-faced man who stares at you with a black expression until you give up.

Burned, you just decide to wander around until you see something that looks like an internet cafe. It wouldn’t be in a neighborhood. More likely closer to the city center, on a main street. You head that way, away from the beach and the houses. The city center seems much quieter than you would expect it to be. You stop.

A group of people are standing on the street, five men in black leather jackets displaying flaming Oni masks. One had a wild looking tall mohawk dyed red. His black jeans reached down to black leather boots studded with silver spikes. It was as if the black dragon that tried to eat you had turned human and walked on land.

He turned his head and spotted you. It was too late to hide. His eyes ran up and down the length of you and he grinned, and made a slow whistling noise. You may have been raised in an orphanage but you weren’t that naive to not know what that smile meant. You’d seen it before on some of the staff who liked to take advantage of the older girls there. 

So you didn’t need to know the vulgar words coming out of their mouth.  You set the kitten down on a nearby trash can and pat it on the head, quietly telling it to stay in Russian. The cat obliged, and started to clean its paws.

In the orphanage, you were taught hand to hand basics until you were strong enough to actually use it in a fight. The trainings were very light against each other and you weren’t allowed to cause injury, but there was no gender splitting. You were only hybrids. Whether you were male or female, it didn’t matter so long as you had dragonblood in your veins.

Because of your background, you didn’t show the same innocent fear that these men may have been accustomed to from someone your age, in that clothing. You stared them straight in the eyes, your arms at your side, not moving forward or back. This nonchalant attitude made them stand there in brief bewilderment. The one with the mohawk was clearly the bolder of the five and he shouted something at you that you don’t understand. You just shake your head.

“I need to find the Internet Café…” You make a gesture with your hands to pantomime typing at a computer. They started to laugh, elbowing each other and nodding. You sigh. You’re so tired and it showed on your face.

Your lack of Japanese and your weary expression was an invitation to attack and they approached you now.

In the orphanage, no one would approach you like this in such a joking manner. Especially not on the training grounds. The Mohawk’s hands were relaxed. He was confident. He wasn’t watching your hands ball into fists as tight as stones and he wasn’t watching the sudden shift in your feet as you moved into a sturdy stance. He reached out with his hand to your elbow. So he was unable to block or dodge your fist that struck him like lightning.

He didn’t just feel pain or stagger back. The man felt flat to his side, straight to the pavement, and he didn’t get up. The eyes of his four friends followed him down with a stunned feeling. You knew that feeling. Like they suddenly found themselves in a fantasy world where a high school girl in a school uniform could knock out a gangster with a single hit? 

Maybe this was a fantasy world and you were a fantasy high schooler. After all, you were carrying a cat!

They all turned to you in unison and you attacked the next one, levering back on one leg and slamming him with a kick to the solar plexus. He staggered back, wheezing, curling in on himself, once or twice.. 

The next one now had the wherewithal to produce a switchblade. He swung it wildly at where your heart should have been, but the blouse was a bit open where it was too tight and he caught a glimpse of the fact that you’re not wearing anything underneath. Your hand caught his wrist and you pulled hard, driving your knee directly into his crotch.

His grip on the knife released as he slowly sank to the ground and you swiped it easily. You give it a toss and catch it by the handle. Now the smile is on your face and there’s no pleasure in it as you stare down the final two gangsters.

One gives up and turns to run, arms pinwheeling comically as his oni mask jacket flapped in the breeze created by his own flight.

The last one was backing away, stumbling over his feet, crawling back upright. And when he does get up, you see something in his hand, shiny and black.

A gun. You hadn’t seen one in a while and you stopped. You couldn’t do anything about this. He just needed to pull the trigger and you were gone. But this was a world where you couldn’t die… right?

A man in a white shirt and black slacks leaped out from behind a car and a bright metal arc gave off sparks as it neatly cut the gun in half. Chu Zihang’s sword then rested its edge on the man’s throat

The man stared at his severed gun in silence a moment before he noticed the blade.

“Senpai!” You joyfully run forward and wrap your arms around Zihang.

Zihang looks bewildered, unsure of what to do. His free hand hovers over your shoulder… head… and then he settles on patting you on the back.

The man at his mercy is trembling in terror at the discovery that this warrior girl in a school uniform somehow has a ‘Senpai’ at all. His companions are already staggering away, one of them limping and bowlegged as he flees. 

Chu Zihang raised his hand and rubbed his thumb and fingers together in the universal sign for ‘money’. You stick his tongue out at him.

The man was quick to oblige, tossing him his wallet.  Chu Zihang lowered his sword. After examining the contents, he picked out a few bills and handed the man his wallet back but he was already running away.

“Were you just going to let him shoot you?” He asked.

You opened your mouth. “Yes… but!” You raise a finger to halt objections. “I knew something would happen to keep me from dying!”

Chu Zihang shook his head slowly. “Where’s Lu Mingfei and Caesar?”

Your expression sobers. “I don’t know. I was looking for the Internet Cafe…”

He walks over to a vending machine and puts in the money to buy you something to eat. You return to where the cat is resting on the trash can. “What a good kitty!” You whisper, ,gathering it up in your arms.

“You shouldn’t keep that.” The Machine is pouring out noodles with soup broth base. Your stomach rumbles and the cat meows.

“Is there something for Kitty?” You ask.

Chu Zihang sighs again. The man gave the whole wallet, after all. Chu Zihang orders some dried squid for the cat.

In a few moments both you and Kitty are sitting against the building. You’re so hungry that you scald your mouth on the soup, but you don't care. Chu Zihang is silent, still standing guard and watching. With your hunger sated, you look up at him. “You’re the team lead right?”

“Only if I find out Caesar is dead.”

“You think he’s alive? Do you want me to call you boss?”

“No.”

“Okay boss.”

You look up at him and he’s scowling at you, not in the mood for your jokes, or your kitten. “How did you survive?”

“You’re not going to believe this. A pod of dolphins brought me all the way here.”

Much to your surprise he believes you. “That’s true. The dolphins here are very friendly to the locals. In fact there was a story I read about that...”

There was a sudden cacophony of roaring engines. Chu Zihang grabs you and together you duck behind the parked cars. Motorcycles, dozens of them, are all roaring off in one direction, their lights streaming towards a single destination. Among them were vans filled with people with automatic weapons. Right after that, all the lights go out in Chizuru. From the tallest building, to the smallest house, even the lights illuminating the advertisements go dark. 

Chu Zihang sighed deep in his chest. “I have a bad feeling Caesar is that way.”

[sweetwritertanya]

Happy Valentine’s Day (Jimin)

Summary: You thought you wouldn’t be able to spend Valentine’s Day with your boyfriend due to your work, but come home to find an unexpected intruder.

Warnings: SMUT, yet again. On this one, the warnings are: erotic body touching, handjobs, fingering, unprotected sex (I should really write about protection, shouldn’t I?), bathtub sex

Word Count: 3207

You felt extremely guilty when you told your boyfriend Jimin that you couldn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day with him this year. As much as you wanted to shower him with love and affection on this day, your work schedule didn’t permit it. You were working a late shift that day.

Of course, Jimin was totally understanding of that, not getting even in the slightest angry at you even though he had taken the afternoon off in advance specially for you. You could see, however, a bit of disappointment and it broke your heart.

Immensely tired and spent, you open the door to your apartment and take off your heavy coat and purse, just dropping them on the floor not even caring about picking them up. Then you hear movement from down the corridor and you freeze with panic. Someone else was in the house, but you lived alone.

Instinctively, you go and grab a pan from your kitchen and pull your phone from the pocket of your pants, slowly and silently going down the hallway to see who the intruder was, wishing to all heavens that it was just a surprise visit from your parents.

Hearing water running, you realize it was coming from the bathroom, of which the door was only leaning closed. Swallowing nervously, you throw the door open and raise the pan with shaky hands, a scream getting caught in your throat when you look around.

A fresh bouquet of roses on top of the chair you had, rose petals on the floor and floating on the warm water of the drawn bath prepared for you, steam fogging up the mirror with how hot it was inside the small room. Sitting against the edge of your bathtub, with a hand checking the temperature of the water, was Jimin. He was wearing some dark denim trousers and a red with black striped sweater, sneakers on his feet. His hair was side parted with the long fringe pulled behind his ear. He looked dazzling even in the simplest of outfits.

The moment he looked up after your sudden entrance, you stared at each other until he burst out laughing.

“Jimin?” you called, relaxing once you saw him and sighing heavily. “What the hell, you scared me, Jimin!”

“Y-You…! With a pan!...” He laughed, clinging to his stomach.

“I forgot I gave you a key, I was scared it was an intruder!” you explained, dropping the pan and your cellphone on the chair next to the beautiful roses. “What is all of this?”

Coughing and straightening up, ending his giggles, Jimin came to step in front of you and placed his two small hands on either side of your neck, angling it up so you would stare at him rather than the rest of the room.

“First of all, honey, if you think someone is in your house, you better immediately call the police. No going in with a pan to defend yourself, okay? I don’t even want to think about something happening to you” he starts, with an admonishing serious tone.

“Right, you’re right on that one, sorry. But how embarrassing would it had been to call the cops on you just now?” you point out, crossing your arms.

“Not as dangerous as you getting hurt by a real robber” he persisted, knocking his forehead with yours to get it through your head. “And secondly, this is my present for you. Happy Valentine’s Day, honey.”

He smiled and tenderly covers your lips with his ones, sweeping caresses over your mouth that seemed to take the weight of the day off your shoulders. Like it was worth this one moment, wrapped around Jimin’s arms with his loving kisses leaving you breathless.

When he leans back, you regard him with affection and notice the way his thin brown eyes looked darker and the small hint of colour on his cheeks. The fact that he wanted someone with a body like yours, when he was so muscular and so intent on keeping it so, made absolutely no sense to you. And yet, here he was.

“I know you had a very long and tiring day, right? So I prepared a warm bath for my deserving girlfriend” he explained, gesturing at the filled bathtub.

“Jimin, I really didn’t need nothing! I felt so bad about having to work when you made time for me, truly, I…”

“Shush, let’s get you into the bathtub before the water grows cold” he ignored your remorseful complains.

Your stomach gave an unexpected jump and your breath hitched when you saw Jimin’s fingers starting to undo the buttons of your shirt, heart racing under the skin and a blush creeping in.

“What are you doing?” you asked. He didn’t even raise his eyes from his task.

“Undressing you” he nonchalantly responded.

“I can do that, Jimin” you made known, your fingers getting in the way of his.

“Stay put. I don’t want you to have to lift a finger for the rest of the day, I got you” he smirked and winked shamelessly at you, undoing another button of your shirt revealing your black bra underneath.

You tried to follow his wishes and just stay still, but you couldn’t help the fidgeting of your body as he kept going. The truth is that it was one thing to be naked with Jimin in the bedroom, with the only light source being the moonlight or the low energy nightstand lamp, on the few nights you had the chance to be together once your relationship got intimate. Another thing was being naked on the bright bathroom, where he could see all of the accumulated fat of your sides and back, how large your stomach was, how big you thighs were. And you recalled the light of your bathroom always making you feel worse about your body.

“Wait, Jimin mayb-” your sentence was interrupted by the connection of Jimin’s succulent lips on your exposed neck, his hands pulling your shirt off your chubby arms and leaving your torso only with the underwear. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you at the lapping of his tongue on the pulse of your neck.

“Sorry” he murmured against your skin, hands stretched and feeling your curves up and down your back and sides, loving the fullness of your flesh on his hands. “I told myself I would just undress you and nothing else, but you’re just so pretty. Can’t help it” he confessed.

Your flush grows deeper and you want to believe him, even if you don’t understand it.

He takes a deep breath and backs up, focusing again on the task at hand. You observe his focus as his fingers hook on the waist of your jeans, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. His cheeks were pink and he licked his lips when he starts pulling the jeans down your legs. There was no denying it, there was lust under his small eyes. You could see it clearly now, how even with this much light in the room his iris was growing smaller and smaller at the expanding black pupil. Maybe doing this in the bathroom was a great idea after all.

Jimin is crouching as he helps you step out of your jeans and he is doing his best to hold himself back. There was just so much flesh for him to touch, for him to squeeze and feel the softness and the weight on his hands… So much skin begging for him to kiss and cherish and mark as his. You were all beautiful curves that just screamed feminine to him, contrasting so much with the sharpness of his masculine body. The thought of your womanly body pressed against his turned him on to not limit. But for now, he needed to hold himself back and get you in the tub.

You turn around at his request, with a gyrating finger, and he undoes the hooks of your bra and pulls the straps down your arms, letting it fall to your feet. You turn back to him with your chest uncovered and you see him taking a shaky breath and swallowing. He has seen you like this before and it still stirred him up. Hesitant fingers then pull down your panties, stopping for maybe a moment too long when your curls are unclothed, but he continues and helps you out of them like he did with your trousers.

“Okay, get in the tub, honey. The water must be at ideal temperature, but let me know” he says, holding one hand up to help you enter the deep bathtub.

“I need to pull my hair up” you inform him, grabbing a hair tie from your cabinet. “I don’t like getting the ends of my hair wet when I take a bath.”

“Ah, okay. Here, let me help with that as well” he offers, taking the hair tie from you.

You smile affectionately at him as he starts gathering your hair on top of your head, with such carefulness that makes your heart ache. He is making sure he’s not pulling at any of your strands and very slowly makes a bun on top of your head, a few hairs falling out from it but you didn’t even care.

“Is it good like this?” he questions with concern.

“It’s perfect” you assure, amused.

You then take his hand and finally step in the tub. At the first step inside it feels like the water is burning your skin, but the more you get in the better it feels to have the warmth relaxing your muscles and cleaning away the sweat of a full day of work. A comfortable sighs escapes your lips once you are sited, grateful that this house had such a large bathtub that didn’t make you feel restrained.  

You are so lullabied by the calming effects of the bath that only when you hear a zip do you come back to reality and open your eyes. Your eyes widen in a pleasurable surprise as you see Jimin taking off his pants, the sweater he was wearing already on the floor. He then takes off his boxers too and you notice the already half hard erection between in legs, making you bite your bottom lip.

“Move forward a little bit, honey” he asks.

You drag yourself up a bit, giving him space as he gets in the water behind you. As he sits down, water spills from the already overflowing bathtub, taking a few of the rose petals with it. Jimin stretches his two legs on either side of you against the bathtub and wraps two arms around your plushy middle, pulling you to him. You lean your back comfortably against his chest and sigh at the sweet intimate moment between the two of you.

He keeps his arms around your waist, fingers soothing the naked skin underneath lazily, loving the feeling of your fluffy body against his. He drops a few kisses on your wet shoulders, short pecks that convey pure affection for you. It melts your heart to know he cares this much about you, that he did all of this for you. Your own hands are on top of his arms around your middle, keeping him close to you, where it felt like he belonged.

When he moves his hands and starts pouring body wash on your sponge, you giggle as you realize he wanted to wash you, already picking your arm up to start rubbing the foamy sponge against it. You look back at him to see his proud smile, thin eyes set on his hands, and you stretch your neck to kiss the underside of his jaw. His smile grows and when you move to kiss his cheek, he turns his head and steals the kiss from your lips.

Lips moved against one another and he forgo the cleaning mission in preference of kissing you firmly, running his tongue against your bottom lip to ask for entrance and twining it with yours once you allowed him in. Mouths slanting against one another hungrily, there was a new static in the air as you tried to move your torso towards him better, one of your hands moving to grab his shoulder and the other resting on his thigh. The movement makes your bum rub against his length and he hisses, breaking the kiss and looking at you with lust veiled eyes and a ragged breath.

“This… This was supposed to be just a nice bath for you, Y/N” he chokes out, red cheeks and puffy lips from the kissing.

“You say that, and yet…” the hand that was resting on his thigh moves to ever so slightly brush the fingertips on the side of his now fully hard erection. Jimin closes his eyes and sucks in a breath. “You have been like this from the moment you got in here with me.”

“I’m naked with my girlfriend in a bathtub, of course I’m like this” he states.

Your insecurities come to mind and you can’t help but ask the following.

“Even with a body like mine?” Your eyes refuse to meet his, instead fixating on a spot on his shoulder.

Jimin suddenly pulls at the back of your head and kisses you ferociously while his free hand grabs yours and wraps it around his length, pumping himself with your hand underneath his. He whines and bites down on your lips as if he is angry with you, pulling with his teeth at your bottom lip when he leans back.

“Especially with a body like yours” he stresses, stopping the movement of his hand over yours.

You feel like you are blushing from head to toe, but gain enough confidence from his words to kneel on the bathtub facing him, the water splashing out from your movements. You clasp your lips on top of his and kiss him as your hand now moves without incentive from him, making him moan into your mouth.

His hands gravitate towards your breasts that he roughly squeezes and pinches, thumbs rubbing hard against your hard nubs, making you arch your back towards his touch, a greedy need growing inside of you. One of his hands move to your wide hips and tries to pull you closer, so you are now straddling him on the bathtub, your hand still stroking him and lips still joined in a hungry wet kiss.

Then he moves his fingers down your stomach to find the place between your legs, slipping them between your folds and rubbing at the throbbing clit in circular motions underwater. Your body automatically jolts at the feeling, but soon your hips are moving on their own accord, rubbing yourself against his hand.

The bathroom seems hotter than before, heavy breaths mingling together on the small space. Jimin retrieves his fingers and stops your hand, the look he gives you as he parts yours mouths telling you everything. You just nod and allow him to guide your plushy hips until you feel the tip at your entrance, slowly but firmly sinking you into him.

You mewl at the stretch he provides, the pleasure it originates. You don’t know if it’s from the water or your own natural fluids, but he slipped in easily into your lubricated tunnel. You are holding on to the edges of the bathtub when you start to move, backing your hips up only to slam them back down on him, moaning when he meets your pace halfway and plunges deeper than expected.

Jimin had his hands on your hips, helping your movements and enjoying the sight before him. Not only did you felt incredibly warm and snug around him, sucking him deeper at every thrust, you looked magnificent as you did so. With every rise of your hips, the water around you moved and your tits would bounce, the nipples peeking out from the water every other time. Your skin was all wet, droplets falling down from your neck and wet strands of hair sticking to your skin, even around your round face. You were holding on for dear life to the bathtub, parted lips making the most lewd amazing sounds and eyes closed as you chased after your high, a flush tainting your skin. Jimin was sure he never saw you more beautiful than that before.

He cursed under his breath as he could feel himself twitch inside of you, his lower stomach burning with desire and about to burst, a feeling of overload threatening to make him fall over the edge before he wanted to.

But then your moans got louder and the movement of your hips accelerated, making him know you were close too. So he took a rougher grip on your hips and yanked his length into you in a more frenzied manner, a pace so fast that the water was cascading off the bathtub, the sounds of splashing substituting the sound of skin hitting skin.

When he took charge and pounded himself into your clutching mound, your insides collapsed and clang on to him as you convulsed with orgasmic ecstasy, a yell of pleasure stuck on your throat as your head hang back and your back arched against his chest. Your legs grew tighter against his hips but that didn’t stop him from keeping the stuttering motions until he himself groaned loudly and filled you with his warmth, cock twisting inside as it spilled his release.

Catching his breath, Jimin placed his forehead on your shoulder, both laying still against one another in the bathtub, the waves of the water calming down.  The bathtub was only about half full by now, most of the water spilled on the ground but you couldn’t bring yourself to care one bit.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asked as he leaned his head back to look at you in the eyes.

“Yeah, more thank okay, actually” you admitted, smiling shyly at him.

“How about we get you all cleaned up for reals now?” he chuckles before he kisses the corner of your mouth and reaches for the body wash once again.

What follows are innocent touches as you clean each other, deciding to take a shower instead of remaining in the bathtub. Jimin is very loving and careful as he helps you clean your back, your shoulders, your stomach and legs. You return the feeling and do the same for him, even washing his hair for him. You had never been more comfortable being completely naked next to someone else.

“Thank you, Jimin” you say as you wrap yourself in a towel after getting out of the shower.

“For what? Inundating your bathroom?” he inquires, looking at the soggy floor with guilt as he dries his hair with a towel.

“No, I don’t mind that” you smile. “For loving me.”

He stops his movements and turns seriously to you, taking your face in between his hands again.

“You don’t need to thank me for that, honey. I just love you and that is that, completely out of my control” he declares.

You smile brighter and stretch enough to reach his lips, another kiss to add to the many you two would share this special day.

[excindrela]

12 Days of Demon Ayno -Day 9 (18+)

Supernatural AU

Pairing: demon! Ayno (Noh YoonHo) VAV / Female reader

Genre: Fluff/ Angst/ Smut

Warnings: Cussing, alcohol consumption, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you snap it!)

Word Count: 5031 (...I did not mean to write War & Peace...)

AU: OMG DAY 9 IS FINALLY DONE! (So I guess we’re having Christmas in July)  I’m sorry this one took so long. I knew where we needed to go, I just couldn’t get there. Good news: Day 10 is started, Day 12 is done! (We might skip 11) I have also started NYE & Lunar New Year (I’m writing all of them simultaneously) I love feedback- so if there’s something you like, or something you want to see- tell me!! Thanks to everyone who has stuck around! Special thanks to @quyennie​ for being my editor!!

Demon Ayno: Summoned, Thanksgiving, 12 Days: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | Day 11| Day 12 | NYE | Lunar New Year

On the 9th Day of Christmas: You Took Ayno to the Office Holiday Party

It was a little after three thirty when you came through the apartment door wearing baggy sweats, a zip up hoodie with nothing but a tank underneath, fuzzy flip-flop slippers, and no gloves. Even with the calf length down coat on you were freezing, but you couldn’t risk wrecking your once a winter pedi and once a year mani. Even though the heater was on and it hit you like a blast furnace the minute you came in, you were still shivering.

“Ayno? Are you here? I’m home.” The question was rhetorical. You knew your beautiful demon was there somewhere because the TV was set to a music channel playing Christmas standards, and something smelled good.

Ayno came striding out of the kitchen. “Good. I have made you lunch.”, he said as he took your coat. Like a typical human male, he paid no attention to your fancy nails and hair and instead focused on your outfit. “Why are you dressed so inappropriately for the weather?! You will catch a chill and die, and I will have to go back to being a…what was it you called me?”

“Interdimensional hooker. What are we having?”

“Macaroni and cheese. I am told that this food brings comfort, and you seem very agitated today.” He said as he bent down and wrapped his arms around your legs just below your butt and carried you into the kitchen.

“Out of the box?”

“Is what out of what box?” he looked around confused as he deposited you onto a barstool.

“Lunch.”

“Why would macaroni and cheese be in a box? Cheese must be kept cold.”

“You know- the blue box? With the orange powdered cheese? It’s like its own food group.”

Ayno looked horrified. “I do not know what kind of witchcraft would be necessary to turn cheese into an orange powder, but it should not be trusted and I do not know why you would dare to consume it.”

You privately thought he was missing out. Instead, he removed a baking dish from the oven with cavatappi noodles he had baked with some mixture of cream and cheeses and topped with panko breadcrumbs. He dished out a large helping and retrieved a bowl of salad from the fridge and set it next to the mac & cheese. You took a bite…it was creamy and cheesy and delicious…and you were so not hungry.

“It’s delicious, but not exactly cocktail dress friendly.”

Ayno frowned. “You did not eat breakfast. Now you do not want lunch. You are…stressed” he said, happy that he remembered the right word. He moved around behind you, fastening his lips to your neck and slipping a hand inside your jacket to fondle your breast through the thin tank. “You do not smell right…too much cortisol…” he said as his lips worked their way toward your ear. “If you do not do something to relax, then I will have to make you relax.” He gently threatened as his thumb flicked over your erect nipple.

You sighed and closed your eyes, “Ayno, so help me God, if you ruin a $60 hairstyle before I get to that party, I swear I will pour holy water over your head myself!” you gritted out through clenched teeth.

He wisely released you; then reached over and picked up the glass of water above your plate, and poured it out in the sink while muttering something that sounded like “I’d like to see you try it” under his breath, before going to the fridge, grabbing the open bottle of wine, removing the cork with his teeth, filling the glass and setting it in front of you.

He stepped back and looked meaningfully from the glass to your face and back again. You took the hint and drained half the glass in three gulps. Ayno refilled it.

He moved back to your side and picked up a forkful of mac & cheese and held it up to your lips. You obediently opened your mouth and took the bite. “We should not go to this party if it is making you this unhappy”, he said gently rubbing your back.

You placed your forehead carefully against his chest. “Oh Ayno – I don’t mean to be like this to you. Yes, you are right, I am stressed. The Office Christmas Party is one of my least favorite nights of the year. But this is one of those weird human social things that you have to attend even though you don’t want to.”

He continued rubbing your back comfortingly. “I will stay home if it will make you less worried.”

You put your arms around his waist and looked up into his concerned eyes. “Not a chance. Having you as my date is the one thing I’m looking forward to about tonight.”

*          *          *

You came through the doors of your building at 7:41 and the Atrium was already packed with people and the party was in full swing. Ayno slid your coat from your shoulders and went to take it and your bag to the coat check. Meanwhile, you glanced around and saw Tenley & Kara leaning against the wall by the elevator bank and headed straight over.

“Hey!” “There you are!” They called as you trotted over as fast as the slippery soles of your strappy sandals would allow. You all engaged in the typical “girl hug” that involved leaning over with your butt sticking out and the bare minimum of contact while patting the other’s back.

“Cute dress Ten!” you said. “Thanks! I was accused of being boring by Danielle, so I decided to embrace my ethnicity!” she replied, smoothing the peony embroidered satin of her mandarin collared mini-qi pao. “But it’s still black. Festive is Kara’s job.”

“What? It’s still a neutral! Just because I refuse to join the sea of black dresses with you two…” she retorted, giving her hips a little shake that made the silver beaded dress shimmy with her.

“I like it Kara! Perfect for New Year’s Eve too!” you supported.

“Right?! Kill two parties with one dress!” she affirmed.

“I thought Ayno was coming tonight?”, Tenley questioned.

“Oh, he’s here. He’s just dropping my things at coat check.”

Then Kara’s brain caught up with the conversation and she turned to Tenley looking confused “Danielle? From the Data Matrixing dept. called you boring? They only have one ‘Danielle’, right?”

At that, Tenley launched into her story the way only catty girlfriends can about another woman throwing them shade. She was just wrapping it up when you noticed Kara’s attention had been diverted.

“I don’t know what department that belongs in, but whatever it is, I will find out, and then I am transferring there whether I have the requisite skill and experience or not.” Kara said, her gaze never wavering.

You understood. You smiled at the tall, well-built man that had captured her attention, his fire engine red suit tapered from his broad shoulders to nip in at his slender waist and the pants caressed his muscular thighs. A black mesh shirt peeked out from underneath the jacket and was accented with a couple silver chains at his throat. He was stunning – and oblivious to the attention he was garnering: wide eyed open mouth stares from the ladies and looks of undisguised envy from the men. He glanced around and spying your little group he made his way over with four filled champagne flutes tucked between his long fingers. He handed out the champagne, gave a blinding smile and said “Hi!”  

Kara giggled. You just shook your head. Tenley took command of the conversation. “Hi Ayno. It’s good to see you again. I like your suit! It’s a much better look on you than the reindeer sweater.”

“Thank you, I think so too. It itches less. Although, it does not have lights like the sweater, so I think it is unlikely I will win a prize. I think you look better too.”

You laughed. “Kara, this is my boyfriend, Ayno. Ayno, this is Kara- she’s our department assistant.” “Which means she’s the only one who has any idea what’s going on.” Tenley supplied as Ayno, excited to once again be practicing traditional human greetings, extended his hand to Kara.

Kara shook his hand and then downed the whole glass in one gulp. You followed suit, and then handed the glasses back to Ayno. “Will you be a love and go get us 2 more?”, you asked him sweetly. He bent down until his face was even with yours. “Please?” you smiled at him. He smiled back, “Yes Mistress. I am always happy to serve you”, he whispered as he planted a quick kiss on your lips and then turned on his heel and headed to the champagne fountain.

“Ho-lee crap!” Kara said to no one in particular. She looked at Tenley, “You said he was hot, you didn’t say he was the male equivalent of a Victoria’s Secret angel.���

You snickered at the idea of Ayno being an angel of any kind. Kara turned slowly and looked at you. “He’s cute? He’s tall? I love his smile? Seriously??? How about he’s breathtaking and sexy as fuck??”

You laughed. “Sorry Kara. After my last boyfriend…I just sort-of downplay things now. And yes, Ayno is breathtaking…sometimes I think people look at us together and wonder what a man like that is doing with me.”

“Whatever! He’s with you, right? And he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.” She grabbed your arms and turned you to face her, “Please tell me he has a single brother?” she mock pleaded.

“Actually, he has six brothers.”

Both of them stared at you wide eyed. “SIX BROTHERS?” they chorused in unison. “Are they all single and do they all look like him? I just want one.” Kara said. “Yeah, one for you & one for me” Tenley agreed.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen them. But they’re…uh…adopted, so I’m not sure what they look like.”

“Well, you clearly hit the jackpot on this one. He’s gorgeous and seems totally devoted.” Kara said with a touch of envy.

“I know, right? I want a man who follows me around and does whatever I say without question while looking at me adoringly too.” Tenley agreed.

The conversation was halted by the ding of the elevator doors opening to reveal a couple of drunk colleagues from accounting stumbling out tipsy and looking slightly disheveled. They looked around nervously before slipping back into the crowd. “Like we didn’t all know about that…” Tenley said rolling her eyes.

You were glad the conversation shifted away from Ayno. Not only was answering questions about him like walking through a mine field, but something about the champagne or the girl’s words had made you uneasy. You didn’t doubt Ayno truly had feelings for you, but you sometimes wondered if he would stay if he had a choice. Did he only stay with you because he had to? Was this like Stockholm Syndrome where you fall in love with your captor as a coping mechanism?  Was he devoted because he had to be, not because he wanted to?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Ayno’s arrival with more champagne. You took the glass he offered, and then turned away to eye the crowd- causing Ayno to frown slightly. Kara, emboldened by the alcohol now coursing through her veins, pounced on him in full getting-to-know-you mode. Normally you would have jumped in and changed the subject, or answered for him, but you were so edgy you decided to just let him handle it. If he freaked out, transformed into his natural form, and rained hellfire on the building then so be it. You still listened with half an ear, proud that he remembered the answers you had practiced to common personal questions.

Your sudden coolness was not lost on Tenley. Sensing that Ayno might need to be rescued from Kara, and the two of you might need a moment, she nudged you, “Hey. Have you shown Ayno our floor yet?”

You looked at her with something between distain and annoyance. “No. I can’t imagine why Ayno would want to see our cubicle farm.”

“Nope. You don’t get a choice. It’s an unwritten rule that all new significant others must get a tour of the prison cells at their first Christmas Party, so they have a frame of reference for stories of office shenanigans and sympathy for the conditions we are suffering in when we have to work late”, she said matter-of-factly. With that, she punched the elevator button, snagged your champagne glass, and shoved you in when the doors opened, Ayno following right behind you trying not to laugh. The last thing you saw was her giving you a cheesy grin and a wave of her waggled fingers.

The elevator ride to the 9th floor was quick but felt like an eternity with the two of you standing in silence, you just out of Ayno’s reach. You walked at the same speed you did during your workday, lengths ahead of Ayno who strolled along behind you down the hall past the conference and break rooms, eventually arriving at the center of the floor full of cubicles.

“This is it.” You sighed, bored.

Ayno nodded. “I have seen this before.”

“Someone summoned you to their office building?”

“No. Purgatory. There are several levels that look just like this. I recommend avoiding it.” He paused, “Which chamber is yours?”

You started walking and Ayno followed you to your desk. “This is it. This is where I spend most of my day”, you said gesturing to your glass walled box full of pre-fab office furniture.

Ayno stepped inside and sat in your chair. You were surprised how normal he looked sitting there, as though you might have come around the corner and found your handsome coworker at his desk.

While you absentmindedly stared off into space, he took in your workspace, thinking to himself that it was rather like a cage, and feeling sorry that you spent so many hours there. He smiled when he saw that the one truly personal thing on your desk was a small photo of the two of you.

Knowing Ayno would follow, you slowly began strolling out of the maze of cubicles, idly wondering how much longer you’d have to stay at the party for people to consider it an “appearance” and what you needed to do to give the impression that you had had a good time.

“What is this place?” you heard Ayno’s voice behind you as he stuck his head into an open doorway.

“That’s the break room.”

“Ah!”, Ayno said with comprehension, “The domain of Cody the Coffee Snob and Amber the Refrigerator Nazi!” You almost laughed– he always asked how your day was when you came home, and you were impressed he had paid attention to your rambling stories about office drama …but it made you feel even less worthy of him. “Was the identity of the Lean Cuisine thief ever discovered?”, he asked as he continued to follow you.

“Nope. It remains a mystery.”

“What is this place?” he asked stepping into yet another doorway.

You followed him. “This is the conference room. We come in here when we have important things to discuss. That triangle thing in the middle of the table lets us watch Power Points, call other offices, make announcements…or sometimes we just use the table and talk.”

You turned to leave, but the door slammed shut. You didn’t need to ask how. Taking a deep breath, you turned and walked back to your waiting demon.

“What is wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong- I’m fine.”

“No. Something is very wrong. You have stopped speaking to me. You are not looking at me. You are pushing me away”, he paused looking sad and confused “What did I do wrong? Please tell me, because I do not know.”

You sighed. “Nothing…you haven’t done anything wrong – I swear…I was just thinking about things the girls said to me and about you being with me…it just made me question whether you would be here if you had a choice.”

Ayno slipped a hand around your waist and pulled you against his body, his other hand tipping your chin up to look him in the eyes. “Do you really doubt my feelings for you?” he asked gently.

You looked into his deep eyes and shook your head, “No, I believe your feelings are very real. I just wonder if you would choose to be with me if you had another option.”

Surprisingly, Ayno smiled. He gave a small laugh and a little shake of his head, “How old am I?”

“Uh…Eight hundred and…something…”

“Fourty-four.” He supplied.  “You are not my first patron. I have had so many masters and mistresses in these years that I lost track long ago. You are not the first to want to keep me…but you are the only one I have ever stayed with. I assure you that if I wanted to leave, I could make your life so miserable that you would release me and beg me to be gone.”

Then he threaded his fingers into your fancy hair and pulled your face to his. He kissed you hard, tongue pillaging your mouth as he pressed his body tightly against yours. He backed you up until your butt hit the conference table, and then lifted you slightly so you were sitting on it. He finally released your mouth and dove straight for your neck. “No! Ayno! What are you doing?” He pulled his head up and looked at you with eyes so deep they bordered on maroon, “This is a conference room. We are having a conference. Apparently, I need to explain to you again how much I want you. That I will willingly be your slave until the end of time. That I am wholly yours…not just because you keep me, but because I choose to be. So, I’d start taking notes, Mistress, because I am going to fuck you until you get the memo.”

With that he pushed you down on to the table and resumed his attack on your neck. You could feel the heat of his mouth even as the cold of the glass covering the table penetrated your thin dress. You shivered, unsure if it was from that or Ayno’s sudden aggression.

Ayno put one knee up onto the table and pressed his other thigh against your waiting heat as he continued sucking harshly on your neck and chest working his way ever lower. You felt yourself growing warm and wet as he ground his thigh against your core. “Ayno! You’ve got to stop… someone could come in and find us!” you pleaded. “Let them”, he growled low in your ear, “I don’t actually care.”

“I care! Anyone could just walk in! And one whole wall of this room is glass!!” Making an inhuman sound, Ayno raised his head and held one hand up toward the door. A rope of red energy shot out and zig zagged around the door and frame stitching the door closed. Then he waved his hand in the direction of the windows and you watched as they turned black like magic demon limo tint. “Better?” he hissed. He had that determined look on his face – the same one he’d had when he showed up the night of the Halloween party…and once again you realized there was no escape. Ayno in pure demon mode was a dangerous force that both scared the crap out of you and turned you on in a way you could never have imagined. You suddenly noticed that his shirt and jacket had disappeared from his body and recalled his warning about why conjuring his clothes was a bad idea.

His hands roughly yanked the straps from your dress down and to the side pushing your dress down and causing your breasts to spring free. He brought his other leg up onto the table and pushed your dress up to your waist before he reached down and flipped the crotch of your thong to the side plunging his fingers into your already dripping pussy. “Always so wet for me…”,he hummed, “I know how much you want me, and I am going to show you how much I want you”, he said as he worked his fingers in and out of you rapidly while he sucked on your nipples. Your barely there underwear were finally in his way so he pulled them off and slingshot’d them somewhere unknown in the room- not caring about where they landed or how you were going to find them, before plunging his fingers back in and rubbing at your G spot at a frenetic pace. You could feel the pressure building in your belly. Needing an outlet for your own desires, you consciously willed him naked (enjoying that particular power you had) and once your will was done, you reached down and grabbed his cock and begin stroking it. You knew that you didn’t need to, but feeling his length running up and down in your hand felt so good…and you knew that he enjoyed it. “Do you like that?” You choked out. “Yes”, he whispered. “I like it when you touch me.” His fingers rubbed your G spot in time with the strokes you made to his cock. The tingling sensation you were feeling in your fingers and toes was causing your hips to buck. “Oh! Oh!” you cried as you whimpered his name like a mantra as your walls clenched and your juices ran down onto his hand.

 He lifted your ankles to his shoulders and slid easily between your folds with how worked up you were. He leveraged his weight and trapped you between him and the conference table as he speared into you hot and hard. Every thrust sent you sliding backward across the table. Your nails dug into his biceps as his thrusts gained in strength and speed and the table began to groan in protest. Somewhere around the middle of the table Ayno’s hands finally found a grip and you stopped sliding.  You couldn’t help the loud moans escaping your lips and mixed with the sound of skin on skin as his hips slammed into the back of your thighs, the creak of the table and Ayno’s soft grunts, it was intoxicating - you closed your eyes and let it echo in your head and overtake your senses.

You reached between your legs and firmly pinched your clit, rolling the ball of nerves between your fingers. Your mind was empty as you looked at Ayno’s beautiful lust filled face and saw his ab muscles rippling as he drove himself into you. Robbed of the ability to form coherent words, you settled for the vocal equivalent of a keyboard smash as your legs began to shake and your orgasm overtook you. Ayno continued his thrusts until you had ridden out your high before he lowered your legs and unsheathed himself from your over stimulated body.

You laid there on the table, sweaty and panting. Something gleamed out of the corner of your eye and lolled your head to the left. It was a small red light. The world came back into focus as the realization hit you: Ayno’s hand had finally found purchase on the command console in the center of the table…which was where the red indicator light was coming from…on the “Intercom- all office” button. Oh shit. Oh shit no. That thing over-rode everything else…including the music being piped into the party. Your moans of ecstasy weren’t echoing in your head, they had just been echoing through the entire building – including the party in the atrium and on every single floor. Everyone in this building had just heard you and Ayno going at it on the conference table. You reached over and gently pressed the button again, watching as the light went out.

You were in such a state of shock and horror at the realization of what had just transpired that you almost failed to notice Ayno’s naked body, covered in a light sheen of perspiration, planking over you. His eyes, still burgundy ringed with pink, bored into you. “Have we reached an understanding Mistress? Or would you like me to explain it again?”

“I got the memo, and while I’d love to go over it again, I think this is not the place.”

*          *          *

It had only taken a few moments for you to assess the situation. Your up-do was ruined, you were sweaty and smelled like sex, and you couldn’t find your underwear. You were a hot mess. Worse, the keys to the apartment – and the car- were in your purse that Ayno had politely coat-checked…right by the front doors of the building…so any thoughts of sneaking out an exit door on another floor and just going home without having to see anyone were dashed. You were going to have to do the ultimate walk of shame. The only good thing you could say was that it took only a heartbeat for you to desire Ayno back into the red GQ suit – and there he was- looking like nothing had happened.

As soon as you had finger combed your hair, adjusted your dress, and given up hunting for your thong, Ayno un-tinted the windows and released the door.

The hallway and elevator bank were mercifully empty.

If the elevator ride up had seemed to take forever, the ride down felt like an express. You wanted to just stand in the corner, but Ayno wasn’t having it. He pulled you to his side and wrapped one long arm possessively around your waist.

You took a deep steadying breath, squared your shoulders and lifted your chin as the elevator thumped to a stop. The bell dinged, the doors slid open, and your heart began pounding. Maybe the system was turned off? Maybe everyone was so drunk they wouldn’t notice you?

No such luck. While you were sure it wasn’t really the whole room it felt like everyone turned to stare at the two of you. You felt your face go hot, and you were certain that your cheeks matched Ayno’s suit. Ayno, who wasn’t the least bit embarrassed, kept his arm tightly around you and steered you straight into the crowd. You heard giggles, saw knowing smiles, got some judgmental frowns with accompanying head shakes, and a few hissed “yes girl!”s as you passed people. You saw Kara & Tenley over by the snack table, both sporting giant grins, who as soon as they caught your eye held up a cocktail napkin in each hand like Olympic judges- at least they gave you four 10.00s. You were almost there when Santa, who was in fact Ernie from Accounting, walked by and said “Ooooo! Someone’s on the naughty list now!” …and you could have sworn Brandon from IT high fived Ayno who simply continued strutting along unfazed, with a cat-that-ate-the-canary smirk on his face.

You finally reached the coat check, and Ayno handed the pimple-faced college age clerk the ticket. He returned a moment later with your coat and bag, looked at Ayno and said, “Well at least I don’t have to ask if you two enjoyed the party.” You snatched your bag from him and pushed your way out onto the freezing sidewalk, making a beeline for your car. A moment later, you heard Ayno’s laughter as he ran up behind you and threw your coat around your shoulders before sweeping you up into his arms and carrying you the rest of the way.

 *          *          *

When you got out of the shower, Ayno was lounging on the bed shirtless in a pair of pajama pants. The intense gaze had never left his eyes, so you avoided it by heading to the mirror to comb out your hair. You were about three strokes in when you felt yourself being pulled backwards around the waist. Looking down you saw the red energy rope that was dragging you to your demon’s waiting arms. As soon as you got there, he pulled you against him and the ropes wrapped around the two of you, binding you together. You remembered that struggling would make them tighter, so decided to just enjoy the feeling of being forced against him without escape. The intense look in his eyes was now accompanied by an arched eyebrow. He knew your mind was busy. He was waiting.

You sighed. “I’m sorry about tonight. I know I ruined the party for you…I get so nervous & stressed about things like this… I feel like I keep questioning you Ayno, and it’s not fair. Never once have you not been perfectly clear about your desires, feelings or intentions. So, no more – it’s not your fault I’m being insecure. I apologize for treating you this way, and I will do better.”

Ayno smiled and pressed his lips to your forehead. “I am not upset. I understand. The reality of me challenges everything mortals assume demons to be. We are all supposed to be ugly, deceitful minions of evil, not humanoid in appearance and capable of honesty and feelings. This is not about you or me – it is about whoever damaged your heart before I came. Your questioning comes from fear- the fear that you will experience the same pain again. I am used to this. Do you think I am summoned by people who feel secure and happy and loved? Quite the opposite. I am called to fill a void, and my temporary nature makes me ‘safe’. I told you, I will take good care of you and I will not hurt you. I promise this. You may doubt all you wish. I will just keep explaining it to you over and over and over until you know”, he said kissing your cheeks gently as he finished.

You kissed him deeply before meeting his eyes. “I already know Ayno. But I’m happy to let you remind me as often as possible.”

And with that, Ayno turned out the lights, and reminded you again.

[missantichrist]

About my Apprentice

BASICS

Name: Atlas

Birthday: April 17

Zodiac Sign: Aries

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Orientation: Gay

Favorite flower: Tiger Lily

Favorite food: Crab cakes

Favorite drink: Absinthe

Love Interest: Muriel

This lovely art below is by @fantasmagorias​ and Atlas is the one in the back row on the right :) 

(Literally everything else under the cut. I just didn’t want people who don’t care about my Arcana stuff to have to scroll through all of... that ⇩)

APPEARANCE/PHYSICAL TRAITS

Height: 6’2”

Body type/build: He’s thin, lanky, and muscular. Think Julian but a little bit more toned muscle, less dorito and more hourglass and instead of a pancake butt, he thicc

Skin: He’s white, but not pale. He has no special birthmarks/scars or beauty marks. Just a gangly white boy who’s become a little bronzed from living in sunny Vesuvia.

Hair: He has light golden blonde hair (lighter than Lucio’s by quite a bit, but not platinum). On one side of his head his hair swoops over like Julian’s, but the other side is shaven save for 3 braids that run around to the back of his neck. (My friend @fantasmagorias drew Atlas perfectly, including his complex hairdo. It was like he literally jumped from my brain to hers. I’ll attach that at the bottom of this post!)

Eyes: He has bright white eyes. I strongly agree with the theory I heard that each character in the Arcana’s eyes match their patron Arcana. Atlas’ is the fool, so he has white eyes like Scout!

Distinguishing features: He has very defined cheekbones, a sharp jawline and what I can best describe as curious brows. He’s definitely got a fun, mischievous look to him. Even when his face is in its resting state, he looks like he’s smirking and always has an adventurous glint in his eyes. When he smiles you can’t help but smile too, as his smile is very bright and nearly always genuine.

Clothing: Atlas makes most of his own clothes, and if he isn’t wearing something handmade, he’s wearing something Asra or Nadia got him. He’s always dressed very funky and in bright colours, like orange, blue, purple, and green. 

Default outfit -  Tits out Vesuvia! He wears a loose white tunic with brassy buttons that clasp at the waist, leaving most of his chest exposed, and a blue and purple paisley patterned scarf that no one has seem him leave the shop without. Over his top, her wears a sleeveless cardigan that drapes just below his booty that is a deep, bright royal purple with bright orange and gold embroidery. He wears high waisted pants that were originally white, but are now a light tan/beige, decorated with darker beige markings and small white beads. Around his lower waist his shirt is kept shut (so that only his tiddies are showing and not his entire front because wow what a sin that would be) by a light green sash that was “artiscally” stained with light orange and blue markings. He wears tall tattered light brown boots with tassels/fringe on them.

Travelling outfit - He romances Muriel, so his travelling outfit includes a thick cloak that was gifted to him from Nadia and a colourful blue and purple paisley patterned scarf Asra gifted him. (The cloak looks exactly like Muriel’s except the fur is bright white and rather than being lined green it is lined the same colour of blue as his scarf). He wears the same silly, tattered brown boots he always does.

Masquerade outfit - Atlas wears a wolf mask at the masquerade (this plays both into the fact that Muriel’s familiar is a wolf and the fact that the fool is most commonly represented by/with a dog). His mask is white and glittery, adorned with pearls from the waters of Prakra. He wears a long, multi-layered, flowy, deep blue skirt with gems decorating the silky inner fabric of the skirt. It looks like the night sky when light reflects off of it and moves like calm water. His top is a loose white silk that covers his back and abdomen and tucks seamlessly into his skirt and is belted with a gold sash. His arms, shoulders and neck are adorned in gold, a pattern similar to that of Asra’s masquerade outfit’s gold accents, except the gold pattern travels all the way from his shoulders to his wrists, where it is clasped in place by thick gold wristicuffs that each have a single large pearl in the center. He wears a thick gold choker around his neck that looks exactly like the wrist cuffs except neck-sized (lol). When he attends the masquerade he has his makeup done by Natiqa, who opted for a simple look with dramatic gold eyeliner and some highlight. 

PERSONALITY/INTERESTS

Personality: Atlas is very straightforward and not afraid to speak his mind, he is constantly making silly quips and jokes; he loves making others laugh. He has what I call a “hero complex”; essentially he loves protecting and saving people. Anyone he can’t save he blames himself for. He blames himself for both Morga and Khamgalai’s death, but because of his positive attitude and his habit of pushing anything negative deep down inside him and his need to not let anyone around him feel down, he doesn’t tell anyone. 

He romances Muriel, and in his route he’s very loud and obnoxious. Muriel hated him at first, but slowly, because of Atlas’ high energy and positivity, Muriel came out of his shell quite a bit and grew to love Atlas.

But, Atlas is not always loud and high energy. He gets lost in his thoughts often and becomes quite serious, especially after being in a tough or scary situation, even though when he was in the situation, he was making jokes and laughing through his stress. (He very much so relieves his anxieties through comedy).

He very rarely gets angry, but when he does it’s terrifying. He becomes a raging inferno that nothing and no one can stop from raging on. This is because he pushes his self-hatred so far down that he’s an emotional bomb just waiting to go off.

Likes: Being a hero

Dislikes: Failure

Fears: Losing loved ones

Habits: He will throw himself headfirst into danger without thinking if he sees someone who needs help.

TRIVIA

I keep my ocs as canon as I possibly can, that’s why Atlas has no last name. He has no idea who his family is or where he’s from. The only thing he does know about his past is that he died of the plague and that he had a mysterious aunt who he’s pretty sure has died. Pretty much, anything Asra doesn’t know, Atlas doesn’t.

As far as bonus (lemon) 😏😏 material, Atlas is a vers switch. When he’s subbing he loves being tied up and edged to the point of tears leaking from his eyes. Like Asra, he very much so enjoys delayed gratification during sex. When he’s topping, he’s a soft domme and consistently checks to make sure his partner is doing okay. But he is not gentle. He likes to hear his partner scream, being vocal turns him on *so much.*

Tagging a few Arcana sluts: @vesuviannights​ @queenofeden​ @16reapergrell66​ @fantasmagorias​ @superlemonsweet​ @kidlightnings​ @athousandstarstodreamon​ @llyrel​ @dd-d--dd-d​ @lemon-trap​ @devofuck​ @thesanguinerose​ @candygirl3473​

[soullessminyard]

A big thanks to the lovely @cats-are-assholes for allowing me to post this super cute andreil fanart she drew (and for drawing Andrew in a Christmas sweater in the first place) along with the little something I wrote. Also check out the original sketch here  (read on ao3)

The boy's dorm is a mess. Old take out boxes, empty bottles and dirty clothes all over the floor and the beanbags. The kitchen counter looks even worse.

Andrew is alone in the bedroom, standing in front of his nearly empty closet. Neil stole his last black hoodie, when he went for his daily morning run about half an hour ago, and in the middle of December it's definitely getting too cold for the thin black shirt that Andrew spots somewhere between Neil’s obnoxiously orange work out clothes.

He contemplates just throwing on the long sleeved shirt he had been wearing the past three days but it already started to reek, so that's not really an option anymore.

They definitely need to do their laundry as soon as possible. Not everyone can survive with three t-shirts and a pair of jeans like Josten.

Andrew is close to giving up and to just wearing the unwashed shirt anyway, when he notices a strip of light green fabric on the top shelf of his wardrobe.

Andrew will make sure that no one will ever know how he got up on his tippy toes with his arm stretched out as far as possible to reach for the unfamiliar fabric. Only to come up with the ugliest Christmas sweater the world has ever seen.

Nicky gave it to him as a Christmas present two years ago and Andrew can't help but wonder why he didn't burn the sweater immediately. No piece of clothing should be allowed to look this hideous. It's offensive.

The sweater is made out of a soft, light green fabric and is adorned with the image of Santa flexing his biceps. Nicky certainly thought it was hilarious that the tattoo on Santa's arm reads “North Swole”. Andrew just thinks it's stupid.

But it's a sweater and it's cold outside. Plus wearing the sweater is definitely better than having to deal with Kevin's constant nagging if Andrew catches a cold. Andrew sighs defeated and pulls the sweater over his head. It's actually quite comfortable.

With a mumbled “I'm going to kill Nicky”, Andrew leaves the bedroom and heads towards the kitchen to make himself a cup of very strong coffee. Then he sets to work on that  ridiculous green smoothie Neil just recently started to drink when he comes back from his run. Kevin told him it would make him feel more energized or something.

He has just finished pouring the drink in a glass when the door bangs open and a flushed and breathless Neil enters the room. His cheeks are coloured pink, his slightly damp hair is plastered to his forehead and his eyes are shining with the leftover adrenaline from the run.

He grins at Andrew, calls out a quick hello, grabs the towel that lies on the back of the sofa and disappears in the bathroom to take a shower. Andrew waits for him in the kitchen, sipping his coffee and leaning against the kitchen counter.

When Neil comes back out of the bathroom he has changed in one of his bright orange team shirts he seems to wear all the time and sweatpants that are definitely a bit short on him. It shouldn't be a surprise that Andrew doesn't have any clean clothes if Neil even steals his pants. Neil looks like he could go back to sleep now that his leftover energy has worn off.

His bare feet make quite slapping sounds on the kitchen floor when he walks over to Andrew. When the noise stops, Andrew doesn't even need to turn around to know that Neil is standing right behind him. He can feel the warmth radiating off him.

“Can I?”, Neil asks, his breath ghosting over the back of Andrew’s neck, making the little hairs there stand up. “Yes”, Andrew murmurs and a few seconds later the weight of another body sags against his. An arm sneaks around his waist and a cheek is pressed to his shoulder.

A quiet “Morning, Drew”, is whispered into the fabric of Andrew's sweater and Andrew has to suppress the urge to roll his eyes.

“Kevin will kill you when you fall asleep during practice. Don't think I'll stop him”, is all Andrew says but he doesn't stop Neil from wiggling even closer.

“Mhh”, Neil says. “So soft”, he starts rubbing his cheek against Andrew's shoulder.

Andrew doesn't react apart from pressing the smoothie in Neil's free hand.

“At least drink the shit you make me make for you every morning”, Andrew snarls but there is no real heat behind his voice and all it does, is making Neil smile. He untangles himself from Andrew and gulps down the disgusting mixture surprisingly fast.

Andrew turns around to face him and Neil gives him an once over,  raises an eyebrow and nods towards the sweater.

“Nice outfit”, the corner of his mouth twitches with amusement.

“Fuck off, Josten”, Andrew spits and crosses his arms over his chest. Neil reaches out and let's his hand rest lightly on Andrew's biceps.

“It's true though”, he smirks, eyes flashing with mischief.

Andrew just blankly stares at him, but he doesn't shove him away so Neil takes a step closer until he is in Andrew space again.

“Yes or No?”, he asks.

A “Yes”, from Andrew is all it takes for Neil to lean down and kiss him, with one arm curled around Andrew's muscular upper arm and the other buried in his soft blond hair. Neil sighs and presses closer, the heat of the kiss rushing through his body.

When he draws back he takes a look at Andrew, before declaring with a huge grin: “I like the sweater, it's a good look on you”

“Go wash your mouth Josten, you still taste like kale. It's disgusting!”, is all he gets in return, but it’s worth it when Andrew doesn't stop wearing the sweater the whole day.

[cyberbullygabor]

stan watching bill play baseball ???? and his team win ??? and then what happens after the game ??? stan in bills baseball jersey and super big ??? them being in love ??? stan being hardcore thotty af ?? pls write something to do with this ahhhhhh

(lanosnos i hope this isn't bad, pls enjoy some thotty stenbrough!) ---tonight is the first home game of the season, and it is oddly in that strange season between cold and warm — just chilly enough for stan to wrap a jacket over his shoulders, his eyes watchful for the entrance for the baseball team.the jacket he's wearing is bill's varsity captain jacket, because bill is in the incredible jersey — the jacket swallows his tiny frame whole, and when mike hanlon sees the sight, he snickers aloud and squeezes stan's shoulder gently. "hey, man. can't even see you tonight!" stan offers him a small half-smile. out of all the losers, he and mike get along the most easily, besides he and bev (and, obviously, bill.) mike is quiet and contemplative, always willing to learn, but he has a bouncy, friendly energy that compliments stan's own rather dry humor and mild hatred of many of his peers. "better for the lot of us if i'm invisible." he quipped in reply, the comment (mostly) joking. mike only snorted, shaking his head as he stood beside the smaller teen. soon enough, bev was in between them, an arm looped around mike's shoulder as she kissed his cheek in greeting before waving at stan. "evening, friends. it's only us here tonight."stan shot her a glance, eyebrow quirking upwards. "what about the cute girl from bio two?" he asked inquisitively, to which her cheeks flushed mildly. "she's — " "RIGHT HERE!" a flash of dark curls, bouncy and long, was all stan caught as arms wrapped around bev's waist. "surprise." she murmured, as bev started to laugh. "aranza! out of nowhere!" stan turned his head as two other males approached — eddie and ben, in deep discussion about the differences between animal farm and 1984. not far behind was richie, trying to butt in, and failing miserably. all of them seemed very content, and the thought of that made stan happy, even if it didn't show all too much in the moment. he turned his attention back to the field in the nick of time — the team had burst onto the playing grounds, and there was /bill/.bill, golden-red hair glinting with sweat and sunlight. bill, muscular arms gripping his baseball slightly. bill in his uniform, looking every bit as strong and incredible as he always did. bill radiated fantastic, and stan lapped it up from the sidelines, his man so focused and concentrated on the game ahead. the night was full of thunderous applause, wild cheers, and richie losing his glasses ten million times. mike had to be the loudest cheerer of them all, and stan the quietest — he was too concentrated on the way bill looked playing the sport, on how much effort he put into succeeding. and that effort, the whole team's effort, pays off tremendously — because in the end, the team is lifting bill up and practically screaming, and they've won the game 20-18. a close call. but his bill hit a home run — /his/, that was his boyfriend! stan quickly zipped up bill's jacket before heading over to the fence, his chin hitting the bar atop it. bill beamed crookedly at the sight, making a break towards the fence, his skin dripping slightly with sweat.normally, stan would think that was absolutely disgusting. but when it was bill..."stanny! d-duh-did you s-s-suh-see that?" he's practically desperate for affection, for some notice and validation of his efforts, and stan, for just a moment is little mean — "not at all." then, a grin stretches across his lips. "i'm kidding, billy, you were incredible." he took a quick glance to make sure that nobody is looking (besides their losers, maybe) before leaning up on his toes to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. bill freezes, his eyes widening in pleasant shock — this is bold for stanley, and he loves it, every second of it. "hold on, prettyboy. l-luh-luh-luh-luh —" bill pauses, mostly because his throat has closed up from truly /noticing/ stanley.he's in his varsity jacket, which is snug on bill...and HUGE on stan. it swallows him whole, dangling from his thin frame, and it's absolutely adorable. the hem hits mid-thigh, and the sleeves don't even show his hands. stan's curls are free of gel and a little messy, but in the way that shows he put effort into making it look so — ran his own hands through it the way bill wanted to. stan had to have control, even over his messes. and his eyes are so wide, and they're shining, with...pride, yes, and bill feels immensely affectionate when he realizes that stanley is indeed proud of him. he clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. "uh, let's get o-ow-ow-ut of here." ---so they're driving in bill's car to hang out at a drive-in movie, but first, bill is going to shower. stan is slightly saddened that the uniform will be off — his uniform is the best outfit bill can wear. it fits him so well, showing every inch of broadened muscle, and that muscle is something that fascinates stan. bill is humming along to jailhouse rock, fingers drumming against the wheel, and stan is staring at him, something he doesn't do quite so often. but bill is glowing with happiness and pride tonight, and it's adorable. at the light, bill finally catches him, and stan's cheeks flush immediately. his lips quirk up slightly, mostly because of the flush across his cheeks — he loves making stan blush, he really does. "what, suh-suh-something on muh-ay face?" he isn't even trying to be a tease in the moment. he figures there could be dirt there, and he knows how stan can be about things getting /dirty/, about breaking his routines. but stan just brushes at his cheek, letting bill nuzzle slightly into the touch. after a moment, he whispers "nope", a smirk tugging his lips upwards as he pulls his hand back and turns his head to stare out the car window.bill's heart stutters more then he ever could with his words as light from the glinting moon hits stan's contoured features, his own lopsided grin widening."i'm pulling the car over. just so you know." bill says, and that makes stan laugh, a rare sound that could be life-saving medicine. if only eddie listened to stan laugh! his asthma may be cured. but the sound is almost melodic, his head tilted back just slightly. bill is really hoping he'll tilt it back further, at a slight angle, when he pulls this damn car over. "i hate you." stan grumbles, though his tone is light and the words are absolute lies. bill just snorts as he presses on the brakes by the side of the road, nuzzling his nose into stan's neck as revenge for all the times he used it as an apology. "no, you don't."when they return to school the next day, stan's neck is noticeably bruised, and bill has dark circles under his eyes, still in sweatpants and a tank top, like he slept in them.beverly can't wait to hear stan tell her about /this/ epic love story.

[zaneryne]

Ghost Stories

Here is a story that was written last year, a back story to Zaneryne or at least what caused the most recent heart break her.

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

Ghost Part 1

Jon Chess. the captain and lover of Zaneryne had given her directions and the job of looking into something for him, the previous mission they had gone together on that near got her killed, Intel was found, and being in Orcish Jon had passed over the information to Zane to translate. She discovered these were dealt with the Horde directly, they were constructing an Azerite version of the Mana Bomb. It was being constructed in Kalimdor, and the stress that it could have been used in or against the Kaldorei fighting for Darkshore was a considered issue. She relayed the message to her beloved and was quickly deployed back out to use her skill set and call for reinforcements when and if needed. Zaneryne left for Stonetalon Mountains immediately only able to grab a tea with her lover and a kiss on his cheek before heading out.

She got to Stonetalon as fast as she could, doing what she did best, survey and record information, informing the Sentinels on the case about the ways into the facility, two methods, one that was more stealthy but laid with traps and a second that was a direct approach, heavily teethed with Horde soldiers and a mech at there disposal. The facility that was guarded, with something big inside being constructed, filled with Sin'Dorei workers, she took the task of dawning the persona of Darrenis, her father's name, Darrenis Cinderwhisper, a name of a person her family dealt with often enough, so the name was more believable than her goblin personas. She while in this guise confirmed there was a bomb of the sort being constructed and before setting out promised the Sentinel to find out the intention of the use of the bomb and would report in.

Zane as Darrenis Cinderwhisper was tall, lean yet muscular, chiseled to the Gods, long crimson mane and glowing green eyes, quite pompous in his demeanor, a typical Sin'Dorei. There had been whispers of the Alliance honing in on the operation, but as the whereabouts were unclear, a scientist she had gotten to know while portraying Darrenis was Yalis Ancientdream. Yalis a thinner Sin'Dorei, more frail, with the blonde features expected of these elves, golden eyes, he looked through reading glasses, sifting through papers, spoke his whine of a voice, "They think the Alliance is in the mountains, Kaldorei to be exact...."

Darrenis Cinderwhisper looks up at Yalis and shifts about curious, the twinge of worry on his face and looks back at Yalis, "Kaldorei? Were they not ever pushed out the area?"

Yalis shakes his head, "No, and they have been in the area more, fighting for there homeland from reports I have heard..."

Darrenis chuckles, "Take back there homeland, they are ridiculous to try...Slyvanas and her forsaken I am sure to have blighted the lands they used to call home if I were to guess."

Yalis smirks and shifts to the left, setting his paper load on to the counter, "Very likely, and if not, we will do the rest, this bomb is set to go off there..." he covers his mouth slightly, "Err you did not hear that from me." He giggles, a squawk of a giggle.

Zane disgusted inside would just laugh, had to play the part, "The less of those pests we have in this world the better...."

Yalis reaches over and rest his hand onto Darrenis hand and nods, "Exactly." He squeals the giggle again and goes back to work.

The entirety of the day was moving paperwork, calibrating this and that, and eventually having a debriefing meeting, their scientist's head walked in, a witch of woman, Synara Duskveil, small, thin, hardly shapely, Zane questioned how this woman got any sort of attention from males or females, her face pointed, carved out to be pointed, her cheekbones quite pronounced, her face very thin, she looked as if she had an eating disorder, a Sin'dorei wrapped around bones, her white hair and icy emerald eyes fit her frigid personality, she barked for them to listen, "Attention everyone, security will be maximized, as the Alliance has been sighted nearby, information exactly on them is still unknown but we have Sin'Dorei hunters coming to sweep the area, more orcs and trolls will join the front lines and more devious traps will lace the backside of the building. The higher-ups have made a strict curfew and want us to finish at the newly posted times to prevent any Alliance shadows from slipping and harming us, so finish your duties, we leave in an hour!"

Yalis shifting his eyes to Darrenis and then back to Synara, "Will we being getting escorts of some sort to ensure our safety?"

A troll behind the woman stepped forward, slobbering as he spoke, covering his elongated tusk that twisted upwards in a spiral, "Yes, we can give you someone if you wish to have it, not everyone needs it at this time, but we will have someone assigned to you if you want that. We have several Orcs waiting to be given some sort of task."

Yalis nodded, raising his hand, "Sign me up for one. I do not want any of those ghastly Kaldorei finding me!"

The troll nods, registering it in his mind that Yalis needed one, he looks to Darrenis. Darrenis  shakes his head, "No I do not need an escort, fine on my own."

The rest of the Sin'Dorei look at him, curious as to why he would opt out the aide. Darrenis gave a sigh and responded, "We considered important to this outfit no? We draw attention to ourselves having escorts, if they truly are watching us, you do not think they will mark down or file there is this many Sin'Dorei with escorts? I will rather be seen as not important to save my hide, but go on be seen as important to them, more a target on your heads over mine."

Zane played Darrenis to be about himself and not caring about his fellow man. The troll nodded his head and looked at Synara, "Then that is it. Clean up, we head out."

Darrenis speaking up, "I will leave last, you know to save my ass."

Synara looks at Darrenis, a scowl on her lip as she nods, "Very well. Everyone lets move, we leave soon!" She turned and left the room.

The Sin'Dorei all cleaned up and left in there escorted troupe one by one, until only Darrenis was in the building, closing up, he just went straight back to the lab, filtering through papers, getting more information of the location of where the bomb was going and how to diffuse it, Zane spent a whole  hour in the lab working, thinking herself alone, until she heard the tapping of a boot. She looks over her shoulder with a glance, seeing a felhound, the hunters that they spoke off, and went back to work, "Your looking for the Kaldorei yes? They are outside somewhere...."

The voice behind her cleared his throat as he said, "Are they Darrenis?"

Odd the hunter knew his name, but maybe it was registered somewhere, who all worked here and who took and did not take escorts, he just nodded, making a muffled mmm hmmm sound. The voice then spoke again, "Or should I say, Are they Zaneryne Dawnsky....?"

She froze. Hearing the name, her name, she started to process the voice. It sounded familiar. She went through the catalog of people she knew from the past, standing up and slowly turning seeing a ghost from her own past. Norae'thas. She swallowed hard, and said softly confused, "Ex....excuse me?"

Norae'thas shifted, the Sin'Dorei his blonde hair fell onto his shoulders, draping down his chest, a single braid fell, the braid white and blonde hair mixed, weaved in it was a feather, one she immediately knew, the ones she created to see through her magic. She looks up and sighs, and says his name, "Norae'thas...."

Norae'thas snarls at her, his teeth sharpened, capped with jewels and gold as he said, "So you do remember....drop your facade woman...."

She did, standing in front of him as the Sin'Dorei woman she really was. He paced around her, "Why are you here as a Sin'Dorei man?" He leans in and sniffs the air around her, touching at her shoulders, to have her wince, placing both hands onto her shoulders, holding her in place, his face pressed against the side of hers, speaking hotly into her ears, "Are you working for them? The Alliance?"

Her stomach turned, she thought him dead for years, this complicated things with him alive. She had to act, and act now! She grabbed from a knife at her waist and tried to stab him in the thigh only to be slammed into the wall in front of her, his hand smashing her face into the wall, holding her firmly in pace and snarls into her ear, "I always fucking knew your sister was the exiled....you living in her stain! You now a slave to the Alliance it seems....a traitor of your own people!" He spat in her face as he talked.

Zane kicked back, stomping into his knee cap to break his balance, and slip free, Norae'thas staggered before falling forward and catching himself on the wall, a twisted smile of pleasure painted his face as he looked at Zane, "Still have that same fire in you from years ago...."

Zane growled at him, "I am not the same elf as before Norae'thas...." She was in a stage of panic, he knew, knew about her sister, she feared for her life now. She danced around with what to do, she had to escape and kill him, seemed to be the only option. She in haste of confusion drowned out his speech of how he would end the Grimsky name, she just drew her pistol and aimed, poorly and fired, shooting the round into what she felt was his chest.

She did not wait to stick around, she faded into the shadows and head outside the facility, taking to the mountains she had to get out there. The bullets did strike him, pelting into his collarbone and shoulder, he fell back into the counter before slumping to the ground, a snarl of anger as he set his hand onto her shoulder, the fel fire burned from his hand, cauterizing his wound, a fire in his eyes in the direction that she left in and struggled to stand to go after her. He struggled to the door, sniffing the air around him, a second and third hunter joining him seeing him injured they expressed concern, "We heard shots fired...what happened?"

Norae'thas a crazed stare turned his head in her direction, "A spy among us...." holding himself up on the door frame, points in the direction she ran, "She went that way.....I want her alive! She is mine to kill...." The hunters nodded and took off in the direction going at three different directions.

Zane got past the drawbridge of Blackwolf River, taking to the woods. She got behind a tree, pressing her back to the cold wood, and panted, looking up, she was in a panic, loading her pistol with another round, "Shit shit shit shit SHIT!" She kept saying inside, turning to peak back in the direction she came to see if the coast was clear. As she looked she heard the whistle of an arrow and struck her backside back into the tree as an arrow shot past her. Great just what she needed. Her entire body peeled from the tree and slipped back into the shadows, as she moved forward to see who exactly was after her.

The third hunter was brave, or maybe stupid to charge head-on after her, lining her bow with another area she entered the woods, looking around for the target she was chasing after. Speaking out loud, "You can come out of hiding, we do not want to kill you...."

Trying to appease Zane maybe, get her to come out, a novice move, she was not coming out of hiding so easily. Zane started to circle around her, shark to prey in open waters. The elf may have been a novice with many things, but listening was not one of them, hearing the footsteps of the elf, she moved the limb of her bow in a circle before firing the bow. The arrow struck into Zane's hip, dropping her out of stealth, she fell to the ground with a yelp, her knees burying into the red clay like dirt, her hands in front of her as she panted. She felt like an animal in the hunt.

The elf smirked hitting her prey and advances pulling another arrow into the limb, ready to strike if she tried to run. Zane on the ground just wheezed, reaching back, snapping the shaft of the arrow off, leaving the arrowhead lodged, she panted, and crawled, almost pathetic across the ground, the female hunter approached, "Stop moving you will bleed out...." planting her boot onto her back, and pushing Zane back into the ground, she called out, a bird call to the others. Zane doing a push-up, pushed herself up enough, the elf woman tried to kick her back to the ground, but she slipped to the right, the woman stomped the empty ground, and Zane twisted pulling her dagger out and stabbing straight into her exposed stomach.

The elf hunched over and coughed in pain as she grabbed the dagger that just impaled her. Zane holding the dagger deep in her stomach felt the body of the second hunter tackle her into the ground. Zane hit the ground hard, coughing in pain as her arrow wound scrap across the ground, pebbles, dirt and twigs lodging in the wound, almost packing it shut enough for her. The second hunter not at all smart tackling her, as he tackled from the waist, his head resting on her hips, his cheek rested on the barrel of the gun she just loaded. She did not hesitate she fired the ground, blowing up the watermelon that used to be his head. His juices, blood, brain, and skull shattered and sprayed into the air onto the trees they were next too.

The elf woman screamed as she pulled Zane's dagger from her stomach and charged with the force of trying to strike her down. Zane felt that scream, it was emotional, powerful, there were feelings there, Zane had to of just killed this woman's lover, she sat up and caught her hand, the dagger just inches from her face, the struggle to stab Zane was on, the tip of the dagger digging into her cheek, Zane grit down on her teeth trying to push this woman off of her. The woman just kept pushing, sinking the dagger tip deeper into Zane's face. The power struggle danced between the two before Zane pulled this woman off of her, and her dagger out her face, she disarmed the woman, grabbing her cowl and smashed her face into the ground, the woman's face hitting a rock.

Zane was relentless, beating the woman's head again and again into the rock until her body stopped moving, she looked up, forcing herself up and grabbing her dagger seeing Norae'thas at the start of the forest coming after her. She turned and hobbled for a bit before taking off running towards the mountain. She hiked the best she could and used her daggers to help her climb, she had to get away from him. She got to the top, between Stonetalon and Ashenvale, and looked back not seeing him at all, maybe she was free, but she did not feel free, her sister was in danger, Jon was in danger.

She heard the growl the cry and then felt no longer alone as a wyvern shot up the side of the mountain and dropped Norae'thas in front of her before flying away. He glared at her and smirks sadistically, "You are not an easy woman to get too...just like always there Zane...."

Norae'thas was from her past, a thorn from her past. They were never friends, he was the student in the university that had to be the best. Have the highest marks, be the best fighter, the best mage, the best scholar. He would build alliances and burn bridges all for his gain. No one got in his way or stood up to him, until one day, Zane did. And she won, what lead to combat and a friendly duel became a near-death experience and her fending her life, the only one that ever defeated him. He became obsessed with her, and her sister, anything to get close to Zane. It was not welcomed then nor now. She shook her head, "I told you I am not the same elf you knew...."

Norae'thas chuckled, "Of course you are.....I know you Zaneryne...."

She stops him, "You do not know me...." she points at him aggravated, "You do not know me at all Norae'thas!!!"

Norae'thas shakes his head circling her, "Yes I do know you....Zaneryne...you have always wanted out, not wanting your life....and here you are....faking as your sister, with the Alliance....never saw you as one to join there ranks....but guess anything after you left  the Horde...."

Zane pants, how he knew that, was beyond her. She shook her head. She was at a lost for words, she did not know what to say, she just worried about her sister. He leans in close, "Do not worry Zane...your secret is safe with me...besides who would believe me...."

Zane turns her profile to him, she looked angry. He moved in closer, peeling down her bottom lip, "Your sister is in the court, she holds power beyond me....a lonely hunter....besides, would have to have you both present in Silvermoon to show the truth....everyone believes you to be the exiled one after all....so your sister is safe for now....if you promise to help me...."

Zane shakes her head, "No....I am not helping you or the Goddamn Horde!"

He pressed his finger against her lip, "If you want your sister to remain not touched you will....Zane." He gives a devious grin.

Zane feels tears well up in her eyes, she was not being forced to do the Horde's dirty work, but she needed her sister safe, she had to protect the ones she loved. She tried to fight with him but was held in place by him. He even dangled her over a cliff. As if that was his method to force her, fear. He squeezes her throat, trying to choke the life from her, snarling, "You will join me, bitch! Or I will expose your sister for the exiled she is and let the Sin'Dorei court murder her, and send you the pieces that are left!!!! You will be mine!!!"

The has been his obsession since Zane beat him, being his, she grasped his hand with one hand, trying to yank his hold free, but he was where she needed to be, grabbing a knife given to her by Jon, stabbed him in the head, striking his eye. The elf snarled, dropping her as he grabbed the gushing eye. He swung and swatted trying to hit her, before tackling into her, the ground shifted at there feet and she and he both fell from the cliffside they stood on, striking their bodies into each nook and cranny on the way down. Zane felt her shoulder dislocate as she fell to between each series of rocks, only hoping to not die on the way down. The two split off, he crashing what was believed to be to his death on rocks and Zane crashing hard into the water below, softening her crash a bit, she sank hard, like a rock, flumes of crimson above her.

She felt her lift leaving her, her vision blurred, her eyes closing as she slipped into a dream. The only thing she ever dreamed off, her life with Jon Chess. In Stranglethorn Vale, wrapped in the finest silks along the beach, the lovers having just entwined there bodies and shared the highest pleasure among them, she resting on his heaving chest, feeling the several caresses of her across his cheekbone and she leaning up, covered in a romantic sweat, she leaned down and kissed him, and just said, "Jon we should leave the Brotherhood, run away together...just be us, you an investigator...me a relic hunter, live among several swanky places and just be...us...."

Jon looking to his elf reached up and stroked the side of her face, "You are such a dreamer, you know we have obligations...."

Zane turns her head into the hand cradling her face and places her hand against his, as she exposed her breast to the air of the beach and sighs, "We will always have obligations, when these run out more will come....can we not for one moment just both be dreamers....and think of a world we both exist free of the jobs given to us...." She looks down at him, feeling her heart to near exploded.

But the reality of it her heart was about to explode, her eyes opened in the water, mud shifting around her, her blood coming from her mouth, she in a panic, swung her arms, churning the soot more before kicking off the ground and pushing up to the surface, she broke the water surface and started to swim to the close place she could come out of the water. She pulled herself onto the shore, laying back onto the khaki colored grass, laid flat, panting, the blood loss and injury was too great, she felt herself drifting. Her eyes closing as she went to sleep right there. A canoe was nearby but hardly noticed by her.

Zane went to sleep, the canoe, in fact, belongs to a Tauren hunter, who carried her off into the Barrens for care. She was taken to Ratchet, left among the goblins, a druid that happen to be there cared for her in the Broken Keel Tavern.

[thehouseofsilverthorn]

The Big Day

This story piece written by @thebiganvil

The older-looking kaldorei sat on a carved stump before a cottage laying alongside the road running from Dolanaar to Darnassus.  He sighed contentedly, enjoying the cyan-filtered light of the morning moon cascading down through the heavy boughs of Teldrassil.  Hearing the padding of heavy paws, he turned and looked eastward, towards Dolanaar.  Walking their sabre’s at a leisurely pace, two kaldorei women paced into view, stopping a few hundred feet short of his home.  One was very, very tall, and thin, but wiry, like a tough river reed, and held herself with a dignity one did not often see in these times.  The other was shorter but athletic and muscular, surely a Sentinel, or at the very least a fighter of some sort.  Both wore exquisite formal gowns, one in blue, the other in white.  Both had silver hair and the palest possible skin for a kaldorei.  They didn’t notice the older man sitting just off the road.

The one in white, with the muscles, fidgeted, seeming ill-at-ease.The woman in blue looked at her, smirked and said, “Gown giving you trouble, Sil?” The one addressed - full name Silannah - glared at her without real venom, but replied, “I feel naked!  Where is everyone else?” “If you’d prefer naked, we could go over yonder,” grinned the taller woman, pointing at a stand of dense foliage further off the road. “Hilarious, Kajeda, remind me again why I wore this dress for you,” said Silannah, her face carefully set in an expression of irritation, but her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Because you know that later, I am going to take it off of you.”

The man beside the road was starting to think he should go inside. This conversation was obviously not meant to be public.  Before he could get up, however,  the two woman were joined by another party.

“Well you’ve got me th-” the one in white began, but was cut off. Both women suddenly went silent, hearing the soft thump of a pair of sabre’s paws on the road to the east.  Both relaxed and smiled as two figures came around a bend in the road. On the violet arcane sabre in the rear rode a pretty kaldorei woman, dressed in an unadorned white shift.  Ahead of her, riding a magical ruby cat, rode a kaldorei male.  Both shared the same pale skin and silver hair as the first pair, but the male’s skin was covered in scales and short horns sprouted from his head.  He was dressed in ancient kaldorei fashion for men, a long black kilt around the waist, trimmed in silver thread; he was shirtless, baring his shimmering red demonic tattoos to the air.  Wrapping his ruined eyes was a red cloth, the green felfires he had in place of eyes ever so slightly leaking through.

The man beside the road hissed a quiet whisper towards the door of his home, “Nadyia, come out!  You’ve got to see this.”  A lovely women joined him outside, outfitted in well-worn leathers, her turquoise hair - complimenting the man’s own dark green - pulled back to allow her to work.  She ducked back a little, instinctively, at seeing the gathering on the road.  “That’s a Demon Hunter, Nadyia.  Here on the Tree.  Who would have thought…”  The woman, for her part, said nothing, watching the group apprehensively.

Kajeda, the woman in blue,  held her arms out, smiling ear-to-ear, “Forosuul, my grandson,” she cried, embracing the Demon Hunter as he tried to slip off his mount. Returning her embrace, he whispered “Thank you so much,” in her ear, to which she held his face in her hands and smiled at him, kissing both of his cheeks. Kajeda then turned to the woman.  They stood only two feet apart, both gazing at one another, eyes shining, finally Kajeda reached out and gathered the younger woman up in her arms, saying quietly, “Tindomiel, my daughter-by-choice.”  Tindomiel buried her face in Kajeda’s neck and wept.  Their joy was palpable. Off to one side, Silannah watched all of this, smiling happily at the union of her recently acquired family.  Forosuul turned to her and bowed low, saying “Cousin.” She inclined her head, “Step-grandson,” with a grin on her face. Momentarily caught off guard, he gaped at her, then shook his head, refusing to take the bait. Kajeda finally spoke once more, “Now we lack only our standard bearer, and our…special guests,” she said, grinning a little wickedly. “You lack nothing,” came an imperious voice from across the road.  With a cascade of violet, the mage Kalithil dropped the invisibility spell with which he had cloaked his party, and stood forth.  Like the others, Kalithil had silver hair and pale skin, but his skin was lined with great age and care.  He was robed and hooded in blue and gold, as was his wont.  Behind him stood two young kaldorei girls.  One with the same hair and skin as everyone else present, the other with hair of watery blue.  The blue haired one bounced on her heels and seemed to shake with excitement, while the other stood dull and silent, looking exhausted and miserable.

“Well, something is certainly up,” whispered Nadyia.  “What could this be, Radnaal?” “If I had to guess, I’d say we are seeing an old-time Gathering here.  That lady in blue, she has that Matriarchal look, wouldn’t you say?”  Nadyia nodded and went back to watching.

Kajeda greeted the newcomers, “Kalithil, welcome.  And Alsabe, and Lilybeth, is it?” The blue haired girl nodded so quickly her hair was displaced.   The other only nodded robotically.  Slipping into the ancient dialect, she continued, “We thank you all for being here to Stand with Our House on this day of days,” she said, smiling beatifically, “Kalithil, thou shall precede us, bearing aloft Our colors.  Behind thee I shall walk.  On the side of my strength shall walk my Scion, and on the side of my heart my Consort.  Tindomiel, my supplicant, shall proceed behind me, whilst our guests and retainers shall make up her train.”

Hearing the ancient dialect, Radnaal gave his mate a “told you so” look.  She rolled her eyes at him

Kalithil, also reacting to the archaic speech,  smirked knowingly at Kajeda, then nodded, and produced a simple staff seemingly from nowhere.  Wrapped around its head was a blue cloth, which he unfurled, revealing the deep blue field of the House standard, and the device, a circle of interlocked thorns, worked in silver thread.

Seeing the standard, the man beside the road was so surprised he forgot himself and exclaimed, “Silverthorn?”  At this interruption, all eyes turned to him.  He stood there, looking for everything like a deer caught by the beam of a lantern at night.  Kajeda glided over to him. “Do I know you, sir?” “Oh, um, no ma’am.  I just recognized the standard.  Your House has been around a long time.  But…well…they said you were all dead.” “Hmm..who said this?” “Oh, before I had this place,” and here he proudly thumped the doorframe of his cabin with a meaty fist, “I had one just like it outside Astranaar.  You here a lot of gossip if you sit by the main roads, keep your head down, and your ears open.” “What is your name?” “Oh, uh…Radnaal Maneweaver, Matriarch.”  Pulling his mate out from where she’d been hiding behind him, he added, “And this is my mate, Nadyia.”  Both of them bowed, somewhat awkwardly. Smiling at both of them, Kajeda said, “Well, Radnaal and Nadyia, I consider you a good omen.  It warms my heart that our House was not forgotten in the centuries of our absence.”  She smiled on then, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, “Keep this meeting quiet, will you?  We’re surprising someone,” and winked. Radnaal blushed, and Nadyia nodded her head vigorously.  Smiling once more and inclining her head respectfully, the Matriarch of the House of Silverthorn rejoined her family.

After she returned, Kalithil spoke a word of power.  Coalescing out of the mists, a great golden cat took form, one of the lions found in the warmer climates.  It was barded with blue and gold, matching his robes perfectly.  He settled into the saddle and locked the standard into his right stirrup. “Why are you riding,” asked Kajeda flatly. Arching an eyebrow, Kalithil replied, “Because there is no way this old man is walking all the way through this damn city, and my mount is majestic and lends gravitas to our proceedings.” Kajeda threw her hands in the air, conceding.  Kalithil swung the big cat around, a satisfied victory grin plastered on his face. “Oh, Kal, as my Standard Bearer, you are also my Crier.  Please announce us to all we pass.  Loudly.” Kalithil turn in his saddle, an incredulous look on his old face, “What?  No one does that any more!” “Well, you are.  You aren’t using any energy on walking, so we may as well..how did you say?  Add gravitas to our proceedings,” replied Kajeda, smiling a little too sweetly.  Kalithil scowled, but nodded grudgingly and faced forward once more.  He began to walk his great cat towards the city, the others moving to their places behind him.

Watching them proceed towards Darnassus, Radnaal opined, “Something big’s happening today, mark my words,” to which his mate gave him a look that simply seemed to say, “well, obviously.”

Upon reaching the city gate, Kalithil grimaced, raised his voice and bellowed, “Hear ye!  Kaldorei of Darnassus!  The House of Silverthorn proceeds through the city!  Behold our Sublime Matriarch, who walks behind me barefoot, like some sort of-OW!”  His head lurched forward, solidly thumped by the rock Kajeda had thrown.  Wincing and raising his left hand in surrender, he went on.  “Our Sublime Matriarch, Kajeda, returned to us!  We seek parlay with the House of Whisperwind!”  He looked back, gave Kajeda a look that said “good enough?”  She nodded, and on they went, Kalithil repeating his lines with each person they spotted. By the time they reached the Seat of Whisperwind, they had a crowd following them, precisely as Kajeda had hoped.  By tradition, if the people of the city, whatever city, wanted to witness a parlay between Great Houses, they had to be allowed.  This forced Tyrande, and by extension, Mire, to come outside and do the whole thing in public. Tyrande made the procession wait close to an hour.  Doubtless, they hoped the crowd would scatter, rendering it a private affair once more.  But with a demon hunter standing openly, and in a place of honor, with a Great House, everyone was curious.  Forosuul, ignoring their scrutiny, stood with his head high, his eyes rarely leaving his beloved.  The people of Darnassus chatted and waited.  Everyone wanted to see what this was about. Finally, they emerged.  Tyrande, with Mire on her right.  Malfurion was not present, so the place to her left was intentionally left empty.  Rather bad form; she should have had a trusted retainer or close relative in that place, but Tyrande never let slip an opportunity to remind everyone who her husband was, and how very devoted they each were.  Behind her a few retainers stood, looking confused and fidgety. Wth everyone in place, Tyrande bowed, and called out,  “Silverthorn, you are welcome in my House!  Matriarch, I am pleased to see you among your people once more!  Had we known you were coming, we would have prepared a more suitable welcome.” Lies, thought Kajeda, but she bowed even lower, and responded, “My thanks to you, Lady Tyrande, and my apologies.  I had simply assumed you would be forewarned of our arrival.  We come today to discuss a matter of import to both of Our Houses.”  As she finished her eyes darted to Mire.  Her mention of being forewarned had the desired effect.  Mire’s eyes were pits of hatred, directed at Alsabe.  Alsabe, seeing this, went utterly white and looked at the ground.  Kalithil was smirking behind his helmet, obviously enough that the helm did not conceal it. “Indeed, Kajeda.  Let all bear witness.  State your purpose, please.” “Some time ago, a daughter of your House, Tindomiel, came to Us, and, for reasons of her own, sought asylum.  She petitioned Us to be joined to Our House.”  She waited a moment, and let the ripple of surprise run through the crowd.  Concealing a grin, she went on, “Long did We debate this, as it was no small matter.  But Tindomiel’s plea touched Our heart.  We come today to announce that We have accepted her, and from this day she shall be joined to Silverthorn, and be considered as mine own daughter.”  At that the crowd was hushed, utterly shocked.  To leave the greatest of Great Houses was unheard of. Tyrande, standing opposite, seemed placid and regal as ever, but to Kajeda’s trained eyes, she was fuming.  There was little she could do to stop any of this.  She had only one card to play, and she played it, calling out, “Tindomiel, my niece, come forward!”  From behind, Tindomiel emerged.  She walked slowly forward, until she stood before Kajeda.  She kept her eyes locked on Tyrande, refusing to even glance at her mother.  “Daughter of Whisperwind, is this true?  Do you seek to leave us?  Do you do this of your own free will, free of…” here she paused, her gaze falling meaningfully on Forosuul.  “Dark influences?”  All eyes followed hers, watching Forosuul.  He stood resolute and unmoving, but the felfires in his eye sockets smoldered, sending little wisps of billions green curling into the air, and the glimmer of his tattoos flared, casting bloody light on those nearest him.  He did not flinch from who he was, or from their stares.  Kajeda swelled with pride. Tindomiel, recognizing the ploy, deflected it well, saying, “Yes, my Matriarch.  My choice to leave predates my meeting any member of the House of Silverthorn.  For if you recall, many years ago did I leave home for the Moonglade, to study as a druid.  It was then that my choice was made, even if it meant to be without a House.  But now, discovering Silverthorn, my heart has found its kin.” Tyrande’s jaw imperceptibly clenched at this.  If she attempted to refute this, the plot to kidnap Tindomiel and convince her of Forosuul’s death might be exposed.  Mire’s scheming had brought her full circle, and she was trapped.  Realizing this, her eyes darted to Mire, giving her a dark look.  Mire, for her part, was almost apoplectic with rage, and did not notice Tyrande’s scrutiny.  In fury, she began to step forward, and opened her mouth as if to speak.  Tyrande held her back, flashing her a meaningful and angry look.  Mire could not speak in this setting without leave, and Tyrande was not giving it.  Shaking with impotent rage, she stepped back.  The gathered crowd watched all of this drama with baited breath.  Darnassus was usually so quiet, they’d be talking about this for years to come. Finally, Tyrande composed herself and replied, “So be it, Tindomiel.  You shall follow your heart.  You are Whisperwind no more.”  So saying, she gave Kajeda a perfunctory bow, turned and fled inside her home, her procession rushing to keep up with her.  After they’d gone, Mire remained behind, staring at her daughter.  The crowd waited, holding its breath.  Mire had a reputation for viciousness, and they wanted to see it confirmed. She let out a single, strangled word, “Daughter…” Tindomiel cut her off with a shout, eyes flashing, “No longer!”  With that, Mire crumpled to the ground, a keening wail escaping her lips.  Kajeda, watching her, looked at her with softened eyes, almost feeling sorry for her. Tindomiel looked at her new Matriarch, saying, “She cries out for the death of her ambition, Mother, not for me.  Do not pity her.”

[flighty37-blog]

We’ll Never Survive

Summary: Thanks to the vortex that has followed them from the Manchester flat, and to their newest flat, complete with a universe inside, their female characters, and their scripts and rejected ideas, along with props thrown into it, Dan and Phil discover Dragon Age. What? No Internet? How will they survive? How far does a raven fly? It’d better not be illegal to use so many ravens to carry a lot of scrolls....

Summary 2: This is dedicated to my best friend across the pond, England. Suze....She loves Dragon Age, REALLY LOVES Dragon Age. I love Dan And Phil. Decided to mash fandoms.

Warnings: Swearing.

Rating PG-R

Deaths: None.

Incomplete Fic. Just testing the waters.

Somewhere In London (maybe more central, maybe not) Present Day:

Two nerds, one with dyed black hair and very pale skin, and the other with dark brown hair, and dark brown eyes were synchronised browsing on the sofa.

Each sipping their mugs of coffees respectively, and not even giving a damn about the outside world. As the sun went across their windows, and whittled down the time, they both looked up and over at each other. 

“I’m hungry,” Dan said.

“I’ll go make dinner,” Phil answered.

“I’ll help. God knows what can happen in there. Besides I’ve procrastinated enough for one day,” Dan said.

Phil reached over and felt his friend’s forehead. Dan gave him a look, and pushed his hand off.

“I was just seeing if you were ill; you said you ˜procrastinated enough for one day’. Are you alright? Do I need to ring a physician?” Phil asked.

“The Doctor?,” Dan was slightly hopeful.

“Well, ‘a doctor’....” Phil got up from the sofa, put aside his laptop, remembering to close the lid, and went into the kitchen.  

Glad for the fact they didn’t have a glass door to hit their faces, or heads, on.  Dan came inside and started pawing through the fridge.  

“No they wouldn’t be as fun. I need someone with a TARDIS. You know, because it’s ‘bigger on the inside’™?” Dan said, as he gathered the ingredients together, and started lubricating various pans, and a metal cookie sheet.

They were going to have spaghetti, and Dan liked making the garlic bread.

“That’s what 'she’said,” Phil joked.

“That’s a dead meme,” Dan corrected him.

“I am allowed to say what I want to say,” Phil sniffed.

“Ok,” Dan shrugged and Phil set the water to boil.

Just then a blue shimmering light cascaded from the wormhole that had taken up residence between their fridge and the doorway.

“Uhhh, Phil?” Dan started.

“Yeah?” Phil was browning the meat.

“We’re being summoned,” Dan walked over and tapped Phil’s shoulder, and he turned to face the glowing blue light, as it reached out and sucked them inside its depths.

“This Is Not How I Wanted To Travel Through Time And SPAAAACCCCEEEEE!!!!” Dan’s cries were swallowed in the thin air.

“How Are We Eeeevveennnn Stillll Breeeaattthhhiiinnnnggggggg?” Phil’s voice floated beside him, as their bodies twisted and turned in the swirling vortex of blue, green, gold, brown, red....*THUMP!* they landed. One on top of the other, face down.

“OUCH!” Phil grimaced.

“Get off of me you arse!” Dan reacted, casually pushing Phil off of him.

“Where the hell are we?” Dan asked, as they looked at the barren landscape, that had paper thin snow falling from the sky.

“I dunno. But I’m co-cold,” Phil’s teeth chattered.  

“It was 30C in England!” Dan put his arms around himself, to seal in some warmth.

“Halt! Are you friend or foe!” A new voice rang out, stilling their conversation.

“Hello, we’re....” Dan started.

“I asked if you were friend or foe,” the intimidating voice said, the silhouette cleared, and it was a man coming out of the shadows, brandishing a sword and wearing a fur cloak of some kind. He had blond hair, and very impressive cheekbones.

“WHOA!!” Both guys breathed out.

“He’s so pretty,” Phil whispered.

“SHHH!!!! Don’t let him hear you. He might not like that statement,” Dan hissed at Phil.

“Well he is,” Phil said.

“Maybe you should say handsome? Good looking? Any one of those terms?” Dan asked.

“But we’re all inclusive, non-gender, pro activists,” Phil said.

“Yeah, but I have a feeling that being politically correct will be frowned on,” Dan answered.

“Okay,” Phil said.

“Ahem, we’re friends.” Dan put out a hand, as the tall, broad shouldered man, well he was about their same height, but he was quite intimidating.

The cloak or what have you, made him look taller, and, was he muscular? Dan’s throat caught, and he gulped.

“He’s definitely not Evan Peters,” Phil whispered. 

“Who?” The blond asked, just as a pretty red haired woman in a skin tight shirt, and matching skin tight trousers, greenish grey eyes and a slight willowy, tall build came into view.

The blond man’s face softened.

“Trevelyn, these strangers have just dropped in,” The blond looked confused.

“Have they now? From the Breach? I thought we fixed that?” She mused.

“Uh I’m Dan, and this is Phil,” Dan interrupted, he still had his hand out to shake hands should anyone desire to do so.

“Right, yes, where are our manners?” The redhead answered, shaking Dan’s hand, and Phil’s as well, respectively.

“I’m Inquisitor Trevelyn, and this is Commander Cullen Rutherford, we’re scouting out new fissures, and well it seems we’ve come across one,” She scrutinised them closely.

“Your clothes are odd,” The Commander spoke up.

“Commander Rutherford!” Trevelyn gave him a shake of her head.

“My apologies,” Cullen looked anything but apologetic. If anything, he still looked quite intimidating.

“I wonder how buff he is under that armour and cloak?” Phil wondered.

“Pretty muscular,” Dan concurred.

“They are odd,” the Commander said.

“Not as odd as you are, my love,” Trevelyn tried to whisper, but apparently the Commander’s statement was heard.

“Not as odd as you are dressing like you’re in medieval times, Dan said.

“Dan!” Phil gave him a sharp look of rebuke.

“What are you on about?” Cullen was on the defencive making the two jump back.

“N-Nothing,” Dan managed.

“We’ll bring you back to camp,” Trevelyn decided.

“Is that wise Inquisitor?” Cullen asked.

“We’re not leaving them to freeze Commander,” Trevelyn answered.

“I guess we’re going to camp?” Phil shrugged.

“Do you have internet?” Dan asked.

“What is this ‘internet’ that you speak of? Is it a new way to spy?” Cullen asked, his brows furrowing, and he looked even more intimidating.

“Uhhh some people spy with it,” Dan managed.

Phil looked quite scared, and had put his hands over his mouth.

“Whatever this ‘internet’ is, we do not have it,” Commander Cullen said quite fiercely.

“Oh god, I’m gonna faint,” Dan said, as he started shivering.

“No internet? No Twitter? No Tumblr?” Phil whispered, panicking a bit.

“Catch me!” Dan said.

“What about our phones?” Phil asked.

The two pulled out their phones, checking for a signal.

“What are those? Are those miniature swords?” Cullen plucked the phones out of their hands.

“Dammit! Now I feel naked,” Dan said.

"He-He too-took our ph-phones," Phil said.

“What are phones? Trevelyn was curious.

“They.... Well we talk to other people with them; if you please?” Dan held out his hand, and Trevelyn got them from Commander Cullen, and gave them back to Dan.

“Here, like this,” Dan put the phone up to his ear. Phil mimed dialing, and put his up to his own ear, “Then you talk....” The two mimed talking into a phone with lots of hand gestures.

“Useless,” Cullen scoffed.

“If they worked, which they don’t.... They wouldn’t be useless,” Dan huffed. 

“Come along,” Trevelyn said, as they walked back with the two, and came upon some horses.

“Oh no!” Phil said.

“Not horses,” Dan said.

“What is wrong with horses? They are quite useful in the snow, and getting us back to camp,” Cullen spoke up, as he assessed the two young men before him.

He assumed they were male, as they had strange haircuts and even stranger clothing. They reminded him, a bit, of Cole. Cole was odd, but he was harmless. Let him just hope that these two were harmless as well. They could be demons in disguise. Cole would know. He was a spirit.  

“One behind the Inquisitor, one behind me, hold on tight,” Commander Cullen said, as the two got situated on the backs of the steeds.

“How tightly do I need to hold?” Phil asked, as he gently put his arms around the man’s waist to stay on.

“Tight, but not too tight. Enough to hold yourself to the equine steed. I will let you know if you start to slip off,” Cullen answered, and glanced over at the Inquisitor.

She was gently guiding Dan’s hands to her waist, and wrapped them just so. He knew there wasn’t anything romantic in what she did. She saved her romance for him, only for him, and he returned the favour. They were just ensconcing these two into the camp, where they would be closely watched. And should danger arise, he knew that Cole, or Varric, or even Iron Bull would alert him to the trouble.

Firstly thus they must be outfitted in armour and overlying layers of cloth. Not his coat. For his coat was what made him a commander. No, perhaps they could be runners? He needed some more. His runners were becoming short of supply.

This damned War. He shook his head, as they trotted off. But his passenger started making gurgling sounds.

“I’m not very good with motion,” the person, Phil? What an odd name; spoke up as a disgusting sound filled the Commander’s ears.

“Maker’s Breath! Please tell me that, that was a figment of my imagination?” Cullen asked, as he turned his head sideways and found a green faced man, with a hand over his mouth. Surely his stomach could not be that weak.

“I’ve got trouble with motion sickness,˜Phil’ said. Just as the Inquisitor cantered alongside him and gave Cullen a quizzical look.

‘Dan’ spoke, “Phil are you okay?”

“No! Motion sick, and I didn’t even bring my pillow, and I.... chunks,” Phil finished lamely.

“We’ll be at camp soon. You can have a lie down,” Dan said.

“I-I hope I can survive the ride,” Phil chuckled nervously.  

Both the Inquisitor and Commander shook their heads at each other. They, all four, arrived at the camp in more or less one piece. Someone took their horses, the Inquisitor went off to do something, and it was up to Cullen to outfit the two in something more proper

“You will want to dress,” Cullen said in what was his ’offhanded manner’.

“What’s wrong with my black jeans and black shirt?” Dan asked.

“For one it’s unnatural, for two, you are shivering,” Cullen looked in askance.

“But black makes him feel safe,” the other spoke up.

“Shhh Phil. If we’re here we might as well blend in,” Dan suggested.

“Ah yes, and you will be free to walk about. Do Not touch anything, or it will be upon your heads,” Cullen advised.

They mutely nodded, and Cullen walked them to the outfitters’ station.

“We need two runners’ uniforms,” Cullen ordered.

“Where did you find these two?” The outfitter was trying not to snicker.

“They were lost, the Inquisitor and I thought it best that they be brought here. However, they need other clothes,” Cullen answered.

“Of course,” The outfitter nodded, and left the three to themselves.

Things were awkward to say the least.

“What do ‘runners’ look like?” Phil wondered.

How should I know? I hope that whatever they’re putting us in, is aesthetically pleasing,” Dan answered.

“Me too. I like to match,” Phil replied as they waited.

“What about my jeans? They’d better not burn them!” Dan was suddenly in panic mode.

“Our jeans!” Phil put a hand over his mouth in shock.

“Maybe we can hide them? Or wear them underneath our new clothes?” Dan was now in planning mode. 

The person came back with flappy looking robes and some armour.

“Oh....No!” Dan said, and shook his head vigorously.

“It can’t be that bad,” Phil said.

“Can’t....be... That...BAD?! Why the hell do you have to be so optimistic?” Dan held the fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

“I suggest you put the metal shoulder on first, and then fold the robe a bit, and fit it over....You’re the tallest runners we’ve ever had. I do hope you’re fast,” the outfitter said.

“Running?” Phil gulped.

“I am not running....Exercise, is evil!” Dan stated.

“How are we going to run anyway?” Phil asked.

“The best way we know how. Without falling over and dying,” Dan replied.

“How?” Phil asked.

“I don’t know!” Dan sighed. This was not something he was looking forward to at all.

Meantime in the Inquisitor’s tent:

Everyone was milling about. The Inquisitor and Cullen were shooting meaningful glances at each other, and though the whole of them; Josephine, Cassandra, Varric, and Iron Bull knew about them, they were very anxious to know what had happened during their scouting.

“Well?” Cassandra asked, and folded her arms across her chest.

“More fissures have opened,” Trevelyn answered.

“I thought the problem was taken care of?” Cassandra said, and looked between both Cullen and Trevelyn.

“As did I. But apparently not, and two strangers fell through. Though I believe, they are from a different time,” Cullen started pacing.

“Strangers?” Iron Bull was on the alert now, he and Varric exchanged glances.

“Harmless to be sure, but just in case, we’ll have Cole befriend them,” Cullen answered.

“Cole would be excellent. He has a nose for these things. He can read their minds,” Cassandra nodded.  

“Where is he? Cassandra asked.

“He was sniffing about the food carts,” Varric said.

“I am here, though you do not notice me, I still watch. I still observe,” Cole stepped out from the shadows.

“Right. Uh, Cole, we have an important assignment for you. If you will take it,” Trevelyn kindly said.

“Of course, Inquisitor. I have seen those two men you are thinking about . They are odd. Like me. I am glad they are odd,” Cole said unexpectedly, making the Inquisitor smile.

“Just make friends with them,” Cullen said, a bit impatiently.

“I would very much like to be their friend,” Cole answered, and disappeared.

“Well that’s them sorted. I would like to see them,” Iron Bull said, his muscles rippling.

“They assessed my handsomeness,” Cullen sniffed, and looked quite disapproving.

“Well Commander, they are not wrong. You are a fine specimen. It’s a shame I can not hold your affections, nor the Inquisitor’s. Though I have tried,” Iron Bull smirked.

“I am sorry, Bull I prefer...” Trevelyn smiled ever so slightly at Cullen, who returned it with an imperceptible nod, and continued pacing.

“Yes, your preferences have been duly noted,” Bull grinned and was silent. He continued to smirk however.

“You will find them in....” The Inquisitor stilled her voice, as Cole had disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“Are they to be given free rein?” Josephine asked.

“Only so far. Like with Cole. We’ll have to keep an eye on them at all times. We need some new runners,” the Inquisitor spoke up.

“Ahh yes, runners, we’ve been going through a lot of them lately.

“Seems the opposition does not like our meddling,” Cassandra smirked a bit.

“They are efficient,” Trevelyn put in.

“Of course they’re efficient, and they bring and send messages. But can these two be trained in the right way? Will they prove their salt?” Josephine mused.

“If they are trained by the correct people. Varric, The Iron Bull, and I, will train them,” Cullen said.

“But you have got so many under your command, Cullen; is that wise of you?” Varric asked.

“I am the best at my chosen profession,” Cullen answered without preamble.  

“Nobody doubts your proficiency Cullen. Just do not take on more than you can handle,” Trevelyn said, as she began pacing as well.

In the Runner’s Station:

Cole reappeared, but he didn’t let the clothier see him. He sneaked behind some boxes, until he came upon the two out of timers. He looked up at them from under his wide brimmed hat with a metal overlay. He was quiet, he wouldn’t let them see him for a while. He needed to read their thoughts, he needed to say the thoughts out loud.

He was looking forward to helping them. They did need help. This was not their time. Their minds were racing with, ‘computers’, and ˜laptops’, and ‘web cameras’, and something called ‘The Internet’. Whatever ‘phones’ were, and ‘Audience’, ˜Phans’, and ‘Community’.

He was curious. His interest was piqued. He was trying to formulate how to work out the words, and draw their interest, then make them forget.

He smiled at himself, emitting a low chuckle. He made it so that they could see him.

“The fuck?!” Dan jumped, and placed a hand over his heart.

Phil covered his face with his hands and his eyes widened.

“Oh God! Your hat! It’s...” Dan tried to think of something nice to say.

“Your hat is wide brimmed and cloth and metal, and fabulous,” Phil helped.

“Yeah, thanks Phil,” Dan said.

“You’re welcome,” Phil said, and circled Cole.

“Why are you going in circles? Shouldn’t you stand still? Won’t you fall?” Cole asked.

“I don’t feel dizzy,” Phil answered.

“You are an odd one, like me. You’ve got a way with words, making them spiral up and down like a delightful snowfall,” Cole’s eyes sparkled.

“I make poems on accident,” Phil confirmed.  

Cole turned to Dan furrowing his brows,

“And, you, you feel as if you’ve not got a soul. But your soul flickers like a torch; and you are very kind. But you think you are an awful human, but you are not. If you were awful, he would not be your friend. He would have thrown you out of the....What is a ‘flat’? Is it truly flat? Do you stand in a corner? Are you not cold?” Cole started doing his thinking/reading minds thing.

It was what he did.

“May I ask you more questions?” Cole asked almost without preamble, as the two side glanced at each other.

“Of course,” Phil said, a bit too brightly.

“I reckon," Dan was much more cautious, but they had both ‘agreed’ through one of their ‘eye conversations’ that he was allowed. Cole seemed safe.  

“What is the ‘Inter-net’?” Cole made the word into two syllables. ”Also, what are phones? What are Phans? What...” He stopped as they started chuckling.

“Are they jokes?” Cole was thoroughly confused.

“It all depends on how full you think the glass is. Some are jokes, some are serious,” Dan tried to explain.

“But you see the internet....” Phil put a finger to his chin in a thinking pose.

“I see waves of something that will give you a right shock,  and black and white snow,” Cole, suddenly, announced.

“You see waves?” Dan was intrigued.

“The black and white snow is called static,” Phil put in.

“Static? I like that,” Cole nodded, and he smiled a little.

“We have a question,” Dan started.

“Yes?” Cole furrowed his brows.  

“What are runners?” Phil asked.

“And why are they important?” Dan asked right after. 

“Runners carry secret messages back and forth,” Cole said. “And they use ravens,” Cole added.

“Ravens?” Dan asked.

“Probably like Twitter,” Phil answered.

“Twitter?” Cole looked confused again.

“Part of the waves and the black and white snow,” Phil answered, as he and Cole seemed to be on equal, lateral thinking ground.

“Ahhh,” Cole still looked quite confused, but he was trying to understand.

“See we use a thing called ‘Twitter’ that gives you small messages back and forth,” Dan started.

“And it’s got a blue square with a white bird as a mascot,” Phil replied.

“Ahhh, and the bird...One moment..” Cole closed his eyes and nodded. “Ahhh yes, it looks a bit like a raven,” Cole picked up his sentence and looked deep into Dan and Phil’s eyes.

“But these are going to be real live birds that we have to handle, and I don’t think they have latex gloves here Phil!” Dan started getting panicky again.

“Calm down, if I can tame the pigeons at our flat, then I can handle a raven,” Phil said, looking absolutely delighted at the prospect of using a raven.

Dan breathed in and out of his nose, his heart was racing and he felt the flight or fight instinct start kicking in. “I am not going near medieval disease ridden birds!” Dan spluttered out.

“Abidda badda....Shhhhhh....Calm Down!” Phil put a hand towards Dan’s mouth to silence his friend. Dan went cross eyed, and glared at Phil. His eyebrows giving his face a dark look

“Don’t you pout at me. I’m saying if we’re ever separated, and I’m sure we will be, we will be able to still communicate. Using a quill and ink will be horrible. But it’ll be fun! Think of it like an adventure!” Phil looked absolutely giddy.

“You’re so full of fucking joy I could hurl chunks right now!” But even Dan was sort of starting to warm up to the idea.

Cole looked back and forth between the two friends, the arguing was almost, if not, quite as entertaining as when the Commander and the Inquisitor argued. He could tell that though these two were arguing, they were so close that they were not really angry with each other.

“The birds are quite tame,” Cole offered.

“Seeeeee!” Phil gestured.

“Seeeeeeee....What?!” Dan bit out.

“The birds are tame, and we won’t have any trouble tying on the messages to their legs,” Phil answered.

“Oh no, our ravens carry the messages between their beaks,” Cole spoke again.

“I’ll get bit, but I’ll learn,” Phil nodded.

“I’m not getting bit by diseased medieval birds!” Dan yelped out again.

“They are gentled, they will not bite,” Cole tried to assuage the youngling’s fear, and patted Dan’s shoulder, a bit roughly, for Dan lurched forward.