servantwrites

[servantwrites]

You are to be mine. Mine to love. Mine to hate. Mine to kiss. Mine to maim. Mine to fuck. Mine to kill. My 2B, and mine alone.

My hand slips around her neck, followed by her left. We brush away the dirt and dust tainting her pale beautiful skin. Gently our digits lace together, push into her flesh, as tears drip down my face. I leak choked giggles, remarking at the irony. “I finally get to kill you, 2B. Now I see why you did it to me. It feels GREAT!” Laughter spills with salty drops, and the pressure increases. “C’mon, I know you love it too.” Ripping off the black visor, revealing her dead, motionless stare. Skin begins to cave into circuitry, blood and metal. It seeps into my leather, and her lace. My glove and her satin. My hand and hers. 

“Gihihihi… AH HA HA HA!” And we crush her pretty neck. Serving the head and torso. Ripping it off and lifting it above, to show the world how much I love 2B. Cradling her head in my right, while she cradles mine in her left. Touching foreheads, I ponder the act to kiss her. But no, not now. We have to deal with that bitch that attempted to separate us. But now we will never part.

[servantwrites]

Aggressive

“Adham, come here.”

Her order was clipped, and she grabbed his hand before he could register with a dumbfounded fuss. The knight looked back to his leftover comrades, trading confused glances. Nonetheless, he dragged his feet behind the goblin’s small stomps. Past the light of the fire and border of the forest’s darkness. 

“Loza, what’s going on-” the question was cut off as he was knocked into a tree. Abruptly, she grabbed his waistband and pulled. She didn’t bother with the buckle, and the human feared she intended to break it. “Loza,” Yank. “Loza-” Yank. “Geez, alright!” 

The instant his belt was undone, the goblin ripped his trousers and smallclothes to the ground. Baring his cock to the dark. “What are you doing?!” Adham hissed. 

Quickly she rolled her tongue across her lips with a determined frown. Curtly Loza engulfed the entire cock, to Adham’s shocked moan. He felt the tickle of her breath, puffing out of her nostrils as she wound her lubricating tongue over him. 

And that was the last brevity he got. Loza jolted her head back and forth, the majority of his cock lodged in her throat. The cock rested on her tongue, steeping in her saliva as her lips pulled at his base. Obscene smacks could be heard as she slurped as hard and fast as her body would let her. 

Adham let out a low groan, one hand supported by the bark, the other found her head. He looked back in the direction of the campfire. Its orange glow was distant, and he could barely see the rising embers. If anyone was alerted by his exclamanition- then he felt a sharp tug. He withheld a hiss and jolted, to the source of the nip. He found two angry crimson eyes staring daggers back. “Did you just- what are you doing?” The knight repeated. The only response was her continued indulgence. The rolling of her tongue, then right back to her suction. 

He peeked again, to see if anyone was looking for them- the bite again. “Okay, okay!” The knight relented, and forced himself to stare at the glowing daggers. Loza took a second to breathe, inhaling his cock at the root, tickling his pelvis. He quivered at the ministration, and his forced laughter elicited a mocking chuckle. It swiftly turned into gagging, choking on his member. He huffed at the sound. Despite the size difference, she fell into a rhythm they were accustomed to.

Used to her technique, Adham dared to look at the night sky, full of stars and nebulas. Wiping his brow, he pondered a source for this behavior. He didn’t see her much throughout the day. If he wasn’t out hunting with the goblins, he was wrestling with orcs. Then they took on some bears, where the knight got a nasty gash, and was seen by the shaman about his wound- “Will you stop that?” Adham protested to another gnaw at his cock. He could make out her dangerous crimsons in the dark, and for the sake of his manhood, that’s what he would look at.

Unfortunately, that’s when she upped the ante. Her small hands barely fit around his girth, slippery with her saliva. They gripped the hot member, and Loza wrung him tightly. He throbbed in her hands as he let out another pained groan. “That’s too tight,” he complained, and it fell on deaf ears.

Yet it seemed to work. He felt himself swell, veins pulse and sack contract. With what leverage he could muster, he weakly thrust into her mouth, desperately. “Loza-” He whined. He hands relented from his hips, and began to wring out his shaft. Her tongue flicked across his head, swish and swish, just the way that made him-

“I’m cumming-” Loza slammed herself to the base. Hands held his hips, grabbing as much as she could. Adham’s hand dug into her scalp, the other attempted to muffle his guttural roar. His cock burst with cum, filling her cheeks. With audible gulps, she swallowed it all, what refilled her eager mouth, what poured down her throat, and then some. Even as the cock was reduced to mere spasms, Loza continued to suck. Drinking whatever fluid she could get her tongue on. The owner of the sore manhood attempted to pry her away, but the sensory of pleasure and her own force did not let him reprieve. So Adham whined and whined, until he was completely spent, and Loza’s tongue cleaned him spotless.

She left his cock with a cute ‘pop’, and wiped missed drops with the back of her hand. And licked the remains as she looked over her handiwork. A foolhardy knight with cock and balls exposed. Slumped against the tree, heaving for the cool night air. Sticky, and with the smell of semen.

She ‘hmphed,’ and strutted back to the campsite.

[servantwrites]

Valentine’s Arkos, Part II

Two(?) years ago Anon asked me to write Jaune giving a lapdance for Pyrrha. High time I write the returned favor.

---

"Okay Pyrrha, you said you had a surprise for me?" Without the aid of sight her knight did not hide his anticipation in his voice, his smile. Early that morning she informed Jaune of his surprise, which left him in good spirits the rest of the day.

So he sat on his bed doing his best to reel back his excitement, and awaiting the signal to remove the blindfold. Well, if I am the present, I'm fine with that too.

Through the dark cloth he could hear the mumble of a confirmation. Her partner froze, finally reading the tension, her tension. 'Pyrrha-' on the tip of his tongue, ready to spring. He heard the clinking of jewelry, and felt her hand squeeze his knee.

"Allow me." He relaxed as she undid the knot of the scarf, and rather than letting it fall, lifted, unfolded and carried, so it still obscured his view. So he focused on the dark cloth, thinning in his vision, and steeled himself from peeking.

At last Pyrrha discarded the veil, and the sight made Jaune skip a beat. There she was, in bedlah dress and deepening blush. Her mane was styled in her usual ponytail, sans her circlet. Shawls wrapped around her upper arm, that touched her fingers. Hugging her waist was an elastic band, hiding her unmentionables a panel of satin. And interlaced throughout the dark red cloth of every piece, were rhombus patterns of gold metal. The source of the clinking, he realized were the golden bands that looped through her wrists and ankles, dangling loosely.

Jaune felt his eyes wander, no one focus to take it all in. Jaw relaxed, descended, unhinged, and he still did not notice. There were words on the tip of his tongue, something courteous, something flattering, something attributing her beauty. A stammering mess rolled out of his mouth.

But Pyrrha took the compliment to heart with a giggle, and her cue to start. Leaning down, giving Jaune an ample view of her cleavage, she tapped an icon on her scroll next to her, and the sounds of arid sands filled the dorm.

Jaune clammed up as the music began, and his dancer cast another spell. Her hips ascended and dropped in time with the start. Shifting her weight seamlessly between beats. Intervals gave way to a hypnotic roll of her pelvis, a tempo that traveled to her chest. Each movement caused a wave, the metal sown into the cloth, a shimmering ripple. And like prey caught by a predator, Jaune realized far too late when Pyrrha stood before him.

Snaking down, eyes meet to equal blushes. Jaune gave her an appraising nod, and just briefly Pyrrha got ahead of her rhythm. But she maintained, rolling hips and gorgeous smile, until she knelt between his legs.

Her hands traveled his thighs, appeasing the ever growing bulge. Up and down his pants, suppressing strokes held his groin steady. The tweak of his hips earned him a playful smile, a satisfied hum.

Slowly she put her semblance to work, a gentle pull along the pants zipper. Her hands spread his thighs further apart, so she may easily rest her cheek upon his crotch. Warm with his heat and watching her magic unfold. And prying his boxers, deft fingers revealed his length.

Jaune's sheepish smile melted in further adoration once his belly dancer began to nuzzle. He was content to let her do just that. Lovingly nestle, slowly mixing the heat into her visage, the scent into her senses. The haze of lust in her eyes he hoped reflected his own.

In a deep slow breath she took the plunge. Engulfing the head, licking the shafting. His pleased moan brought satisfaction to her, and slowly withdrew herself with silence. To travel back down, repeating in slow measures. Up... And down. Up... And down. And every so often, letting his cock rest in her mouth and savor the taste.

To fellate the entire member, Jaune couldn't fight his quake. He heard, felt Pyrrha's "Oh!" In surprise, and she excised to recover. He twitched in her absence, and throbbed at her smirk. So once more she went back to work.

Her hands kept his hips steady as she worked as she pleased. Lips gently pulling at his shaft, any tighter and he would jolt. Savoring the texture of throbbing flesh, the salt like taste on her tongue. Sucking at the length, base to tip, meeting the slit with a delightful kiss. And once more throated his cock. The jolt stronger, hips rising from the bed. "I'm close-" was the call for desire.

Sliding off with a pop, the belly dancer nuzzled, pleased with the damp heat on her cheek. One hand stroked the entire length, no obstacle to keep her eyes on her lover. A hand of his cupped the other side, a smile of love and lust shared. A smile he broke, with her increased pace, and frantic thrusts. "Just cum Jaune."

And like a genie, the wish was granted. Ropes of semen erupted, along with a throaty groan. Pyrrha freely let his hips thrust, gently smoothing his cock, an unmatched tempo compared to his spazzing groin. Semen splattered from his fit, amongst his shirt, her hair and visage. But even after his orgasm subsided, the belly dancer continued to stroke. "Well done..."

Member twitched in her hand, sparks of pleasure running up and down his spine. Suddenly her partner leaned forward, reaching for her waist. "Jaune-?" Grunting he lifted her eye to eye, and let gravity carry them into a kiss. Post cotius be damned, he needed her again.

The belly dancer was unnerved by the sudden action, and washed in his control. A crushing seal of their lips, only broken to slip his tongue inside. Pyrrha's own moan eased her stupor, remembering this was her dance. The squirming only fueled Jaune's vigor, and the spartan applied muscle.

Breaking for air, throwing back her hair for gasps. Arms restrained his, but nothing held back his sheepish, smug-like grin. Something she shared. "This is my show, Jaune," she lightly scolded.

"I couldn't help myself," her knight shamelessly admitted.

"Then may I continue without interruptions?"

His answer was a simple peck on the forehead and he laid back. "Please?"

His dancer sat up, pulling the rest of his pants with her. Free of its confines, it reacted to the sight of the redhead slipping off her panties. Pyrrha straddled him without barriers, and fingers brushed aside her panel skirt. Obscuring the view, but Jaune felt an uncontrollable throb as her sex lay upon his.

Her hips glided over his, with each roll, she reached for the sky. Eyes closed shut, in the trance of the music. Her dance transitioned wonderfully. Gliding over the peak and base, long strokes, and grinding swishes, all at the right beats. Deemed her fill, his foreplay, she lifted her waist and guided herself onto his cock. A pleasuring jolt ran up her spine, and used it to continue her dance. Teasing glides that withdrew, and fully sheathed. Long rocks, that stretched her walls. Grinding swishes of a figure eight. All at the right beats. The music has been ingrained, but their moans add a sweeter instrument. When he needs, when she receives, when that ache is hit just right-

Suddenly her knight propped himself. Taking her hands into his fingers, and met her with a hard kiss. No action could stray her, but the finale was eminent. So she breathed, and pushed back. Noses tickling as they pressed, and a great thrust of her hips. Moans were exchanged, an orgasm was shared. Cock throbbed against coaxing walls, burst after burst. Jaune lowered his dancer as she felt her pussy fill with his seed.

And resting in the afterglow, she whispered, "Happy Valentine's Day."

[servantwrites]

​The gravity of her sentence hit him like an impact to the gut. Feet frozen to the floor, eyes wide in surprise. Even her kiss barely registered to his senses, hands cupping his head, diverting his direction. Faintly he pushed back, sluggish arms making their way around her waist. For a second, he was allowed to enjoy her lips.

A forceful shove, Pyrrha had her hands to his chest. Ripping her head away, downcast. He would fall into the locker, and she would finish the job alone. Something in her heart told the spartan, she would fulfill her destiny.

Jaune did not budge. Her hands lingered, before whipping her head back to her partner. His brow raised in shock, yet mouth fractured into a scowl. Briefly, his eyes blurred past as he pulled the spartan into bear hug. Watery.

Something mumbled into her mane. But the maiden-to-be had a job to complete. Arms struggled and pushed, the gap widening. Pyrrha dared not to look again, head downcast. And saw his feet planted into the ground, white light radiating from its hold.

His arms fell around her again, crushing grip. And the knight raised his voice. "NO!" His roar cracked in her ears. "You're not leaving... us."

I just had the stupidest dream. RWBY VOL 3 SPOILERS TO FOLLOW.

I was watching the last ep of RWBY volume 3 and right before Pyrrha kissed Jaune she goes “I’m pregnant.”

So then I guess my brain thought it needed to come up with some kind of explanation for this so it basically started writing a fanfic in my sleep where at the dance from volume 2 Pyrrha sprained her ankle and so Jaune took her home early. He put her in bed and went to get some ice for her but when he came back……..( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Her mom called and they spent the rest of my dream talking on the phone about fairy tales while Jaune sat there uselessly.

[servantwrites]

fancyrussiansushi:

Pyrrha as a new spy/assassin and she slowly descends down on a string like a little bat and smooches her boyfriend and sometimes grabs him and acends™ back up so they can hold each other and increase smooch levels by 100%

​Even as a senior assistant for R&D, Jaune was still privy to surprise. An attribute their top agent felt some guilt for exploiting. 

Pyrrha returned from a mission, stopping a sultry scientist from releasing mutant animals upon the capital. She did her best to wipe soot off her face, moderate tears in her suit. But her first stop was the lab.

Most of the staff had clocked out for the night, leaving Jaune in drowsy silence. Only necessary lights paved the way for his tinkering. And he could've easily left himself, perhaps take a little nap; but he had a prototype to finish. A device he design and built himself-

A tap on his shoulder. The assistant too sleep deprived to jump. Turning to the source of attention, he was met with a kiss. Awake now to say the least, but nerves were calmed when he saw her crimson mane. 

So he rolled his eyes shut, letting the tired assistant relax, and drink in the agent's presence.It was the only thing he could do. One hand hugged his waist, pressing his body into hers. Lazy arms returned the gesture. 

Jaune broke for air, getting a single breath before the agent brought him back. "Pyrrha-" crushing lips forced the assistant to breath through his nose. "Pyrrha-" he wanted to speak, "Pyrrha.." yet he surrendered, and continued to welcome her home.

[servantwrites]

Kiss

One minute he stood ten feet in dread. His sisters preyed on her, openly, and no words came from his mouth to stop them.

There was truth to their words. Pyrrha was young, healthy. Absolutely beautiful. Her long tresses were calmed fire, tanned olive skin protecting the blood red wine within...

One second Jaune was behind her. Pyrrha was in a better state than her host, but this act was unexpected. "Jaune?" She peeked from her defense, seeking to dissuade siblings from consumption. Both arms hugged her stomach, his nose could help but drink in her scent.

The two younger sisters stood still, curious of their brother's actions. The eldest of the trio, was only shaken out of the human's intoxication, and clicked together the impulse process.

One instant, Jaune brushed aside Pyrrha's mane with his chin. And two canines pushed into her nape. A shocked question on her lips defused into a gasp, as they pierced the skin. She was breathless, the air abandoned her, when Jaune sank further. And Pyrrha whimpered, under the stinging pain, the stinging pleasure, as her blood spilled, and her vampire host lapped at the ichor.

Cobalt eyes rolled to his sisters, in states of astonish and wonder. One moment, did Jaune interrupt himself. "Mine." And so he continued his to lick his mate's wounds.

==============

The night had been exhilarating. A random adventurer, curious to discover her manor, foolhardy enough to challenge her. She could not deny, he humored her. Yet years, decades had past since Pyrrha felt such a rush. Was her blood pumping, and heart beating? Was it even possible for her? And why him? She did not know, but allowed herself to revel in the rhythm and the rush. After all, she cornered her quarry.

The chase concluded in her chambers. A playful pursuit, one the adventurer initiated once she disarmed him. She was fond of him, in their brief encounter, she would show him mercy. But this hunt, did get old blood flowing. And... she might as well have a taste, while he's here.

The door clicked behind Pyrrha with a quiet click. Clear enough for the adventurer's panicked ear. His whole body whipped at the sound, skin ran pale. Not that he wasn't already, such pale marble flesh. And golden blond crop, peeking from his black hood... yes, she must have a taste.

And he could do little but let her approach. Slowly, passively, she walked. Soft steps and frantic breaths were the only sounds. The blond adventurer showed caution, backing to the foot of her bed. By then it was too late.

Arms encircled his shoulders, and only watched, in a trance. A gentle strain of her fingers, at the back of his hood, unveiled his handsome face. Unclasping the cloak, and pushing aside his armor, bare the nape of his neck.

As if in a trance, his arms reached out, frozen at her waist. Pyrrha offered a serene smile, before she bared her fangs. Two canines pushed into his neck. Chests crushed against another as they sank further. The adventurer only had a soundless gasp as the vampiress hungrily drank his blood.

A shudder ran down his spine, and the adventurer fell onto the bed. He carried Pyrrha with him, sharing a yelp in surprise. Desperate respiration greeted Pyrrha, and she offered a serene smile yet again. One that met an uneasy grin. She savored his rich wine, licking her lips, before hers were placed on his.

[servantwrites]

Western Arkos

The Valeian Plains. Vast plateaus that spread to the horizon. The sun was beginning to dip, casting ghosts onto the cacti. Despite the descent, its heat bore the redhead sheriff. The ranch was a trek away from town, but Pyrrha Nikos didn't mind the exercise. Sprawling, thin clouds alit with a sunset hue made the journey worth taking slow. Her pace slowed to take in the sights. The sky, as the purple began to take the place of orange. The frequent wildlife, gliding or scurrying. She was in no mood to rush, by the company who was expecting her, she'd be early.

She was thankful of her wide brim hat. The occasional fan fluttered her long tresses, over her sleeveless maroon shirt. Bundling her gold frilled skirt could only do so much. And despite her brave face, walking pains were starting to set into her boots. Luckily, she didn't have long.

Had each of the Arcs followed "Manifest Destiny" and expanded their reach, the Arc Ranch would've easily grown an enterprise. As it was, half of Jacques’  Arc's children remained at home, and expanded where they rest. The ranch spanned over a dozen acres, with multiple facilities. There was the chicken coops, the pig pens, the hundreds of roaming foul, but the ranch was truly owned by the cattle.

Across a fence, Pyrrha could see a large herd over the pastures. There was no need to squint, as she leaned over. Cattle were the primary source of income for the Arcs. Dozens, hundreds of bovine trotted towards her, back to their borders where they resided. Three figures stood out from the livestock, three riders on horseback. As the trampling of hooves approached, so did a solo cowboy.

Atop a steed of pure snow and gold mane, was the sole son of the Arcs. And Jaune looked like he'd seen better days. Black vest was caked in dirt, white shirt especially scuffed. Riding chaps gained additional holes, peeking to the jeans underneath. Sweat shone on his skin, a bright smile alit his face, as did the sheriff's.

"You're here early!"

"It was a slow day, Ren didn't mind finishing up." A half truth. Her deputy didn't let her anxiousness go noticed when the sun began to set. She contained her excitement upon leaving.

She believed his smile brightened. "Give me five minutes and I'll be right with you."

"Jaune, don't worry, take your time."

"You sure?"

There was a hand placed on his knee. "Yes Jaune." She could sees his lips open in response, before his sister called him in. A brief moment to squeeze that hand back, before he trotted off to join her. Pyrrha couldn't keep to away from his duties, and it only served to watch him ride.

Dinner was a jovial event. Plates were about as full as there were empty, garnished with pork chops, ribs and steak, corn and the uncommon salad. Spirits were passed, and Pyrrha indulgenced herself with a touch of alcohol. And the younger Arcs keep the good air alive with talk of the day's work.

"What happened to Jaune?" Pyrrha directed her question to anyone but the subject. He cleaned up for the meal, but sitting next to him, she could still make out scrapes on his cheek, and how he gingerly held his fork. The sole son nibbled on a bite and tugged at a collar as Karen explained.

The youngest sister giggled between her swallowing. "A lot actually! He fell off his horse, wrestled with a runaway pig, got thrown off a bull..."

Margaret, of messy dirty blonde hair, mockingly cooed. "Poor baby..."

"Hey!" The victim protested, only causing his sisters to laugh. At least Rachel politely chuckled. Under table, Pyrrha placed a hand on his knee in comfort.

Despite merriment going late in the night, the sheriff still offered to do dish duty. Mrs. Arc insisted she get home for some rest, and bade her son to escort her. A choice he wholeheartedly agreed with.

Their walk to the barn was a stroll in the starlight. Comfortably quiet, and Jaune carried the good air from the dinner. A bounce to his step, humming an uncoordinated tune.

They lingered, on the wall of the stable. Content with watching the twinkle of stars on the pitch black canvas.

He bobbed to his melody, swaying with Pyrrha in his arms. As much as she was content to be held, she did stay too long.

"Do you have to go now?" He sensed something didn't he? His plea was said aloud, and rumbled in his chest.

"Yes Jaune. It's late as it is." And she knew he was pouting. Nonetheless, he loosen his hold for her to turn, and she clasped his hands in hers.

"I'll be sure the next visit won't be long." And the promise brought a (somber) grin to his face. And thus he pulled her in for a send off.

When their lips met, it was tender. His fingers curled over hers, as his hum exuded. He was tender, soft and careful. And it went on, longer than Pyrrha thought. She was lost, and time slipped away. Jaune leaned in, meticulously adding his weight, and Pyrrha was content to adrift in their moment. There was that last push, playful push, before they part, with Jaune having the biggest smile.

The sheriff is dazed, but doesn't take long for a grin to cross, and she began a new kiss.

The Arc son's eyes were wide. It's firm, passionate. She leaned in this time, more so, and he had to tread back, lest he stumble. Gently pushed to the wall of the barn, no need for Jaune to brace. Their noses tickled as Pyrrha tilts, angling her head. The farm boy eagerly accepted, twitching his head in turn. Tongues flicked, teeth clicked, it only fueled her. The sheriff freed her hands, quickly did his wrap her waist. To hold strong, and not let go. Pyrrha's digits slowly roamed, ultimately sliding down his backside. Into his pockets, exposed by his riding chaps. And Jaune initial squirms warmed into moans, attempting to keep up. Yet she broke, resting on Jaune's forehead, laughter layered over gasps.

"That was some," Jaune breathed, "Goodnight kiss..."

"And where did that come from, Sir?" She teased.

And her cowboy could only confess. "I missed you, Pyrrha."

A simple sigh was her answer, with a relaxed smile. His lips brushed hers, a returning kiss, and it took control to pull away before it prolonged. "I don't think," she laid a finger over questioning lips, "We have to say 'goodnight' just yet. But you still need to escort me."

A moment came and went before realization dawned in his eyes. In a hustle, he slipped away, leaving a humored sheriff. In no time, Jaune returned, perched upon his saddled mare, and a hand to offer support.

Half lidded eyes, and a coy smile grew  on Pyrrha's features. The hand was taken, left foot on the stirrup. And she flipped, effortlessly in front, forcing Jaune to move back, and her to take the reigns. A triumphant smile was presented to the stunned farmhand, and he made no objection. Entwining his arms around her waist once more, his head rested against her back as she rode them through the starlight.

Bonus:

It was an odd request, keeping on the chaps. They scratched Jaune's bare legs, and now more than ever, he felt self conscious over the exposed crotch. But they added better padding than the jeans alone. He thought he looked cool. And now he understood why Pyrrha fancied his arse.

Their reactions were mutually stimulating. He spread his arms, with a "Well?", and he felt her eyes roam. Blushing cheeks, toned chest, exposed groin... The cowboy felt his manhood grow. But as she lingered, her lip curled, and teeth bit the bottom, he reached peak in no time.

His sheriff ended up on top. That's what the riding chaps were for, right? Kneeling over him, dragging flesh across his lap. A hand held her waist, a hand caressed his torso. And the other was laced in each other.

He wanted to concentrate on pleasing her. But each time she bit that lip, he throbbed. A shiver went down his spine, and he resisted to buck. But her breasts swayed, hypnotically, and he was nearly overtaken by the trance. To sit up, latch, nurse and grope. But her slow rolls, grinding in and out of her cavern, he wanted to throw his head back and growl.

At least he kept his mind on one thing... It was too late now, but she should kept her hat on.

"Ride 'em, cowg-"

Pyrrha fell upon him, crushing her lips against her own, halting movement of her hips. Hands cupped his cheeks, she made sure it was all he could focus on. She was relentless, coiling her tongue, pressing her palms, and Jaune loved it. He was left breathless and panting when she pulled away.

"No need to finish that, Jaune."

[servantwrites]

Smoke of Garnet and Gold

A crimson dragon to slumber in the mountains. A yellow lizard, to claim it for his own. Such a diminutive dragon should not cause frustration, and intrigue. Dragon!AU.

I think this is the last I’ll push this. Had the idea for this AU years ago, but it’s changed, oh how it’s changed. And every time, never felt satisfied with the plot. So here we are, to archive.

A lofty drag, a long smoky puff. A lofty drag, a long smoky puff. Deep within the mountains, a great dragon slumbered. Dark crimson scales were her armor, keen golden talons her spears. Dabbling her frame, aurous and copper bangles, that chimed with each breath. Her crown, a circlet of antlers. Her back, a ridge of jagged, thick spikes.

Nestled in her horde, she was content. A vault fifty years in the making. Generations worth of heirlooms. Intricate, complete suits of armor, few shimmered and shined, and many whose craftsmanship shone through scorch. Silver swords of knights past. And currency, mountains and mountains of coin.

Her dormancy would’ve continued for years more… If the scent of another being did not waft into her nose.

Pyrrha awoke with a start, emerald reptilian eyes flickering. Jewels shifted with chimes and dust with her sudden movements. She craned her neck, as if the answer stood before. The scent, a sweet aroma of gold and pearls, drifted from far within the mountain cavern. The sweet aroma, of a trespasser. A pity. For the first time, in quite a while, Pyrrha stepped one powerful claw at a time, to find the intruder, and deal with the matter personally.

She followed the scent to the underground lake. A pristine well, supplied by a river flowing down the peak. Here, a strong aroma of the range’s treasures leaked into her nose. Natural ores, quartz crystals, jades, sapphires, silvers… And of course, gold and pearls.

Said gold and pearls had been sitting on his haunches, drinking the water. And had noticed her approach. With the powerful thud, thud, thud of her claws, Pyrrha narrowed the gap. And surpassed the presence of the other dragon.

She was much taller- she towered over the intruder. Pyrrha must have been at least ten times his size. He was a stunning coloration. Bright golden scales. Pointed ivory talons. Short curled horns spiraled from his skull. A set of leathery wings folded on his sides.

The two dragons stared each other down, until the smaller one dared to ask, “Umm, yes?”

The question held amusement to her. "Is he insulting my position? Or he is just clueless?"

“...Can I help you?”

Clueless. To this knowledge, a single chuckle emitted from her throat. Adorable. “Leave. Leave my domain, and you shall be spared.”

The flash of a frown, the little one processing their status, appeared on his brow before widening his eyes. “Oh! I see… Yes, you clearly own this mountain… Yeah, I’ll take my leave.”

Watching the competition scamper into the darkness, Pyrrha was satisfied. She sniffed once more, the gold and pearls lingering in the air, she was sated.

Jaune had no intention of leaving. He wouldn’t admit she intimidated him. Nor that she had a pleasant smell. But the farther he fled, the weaker her scent was. By the time she disappeared completely, the small dragon was halfway across the sierra.

And what a sierra! What a find! He had struck gold. And rubies. And jade. Topaz, bloodstones, quartz, malachite! There was prey on the mountainside, plump and plentiful. Freshwater, flowing from the rocks. Practically perfect. Except for the source of garnet and bronze. Well, she could be avoided. As long as he didn’t smell her, she didn’t smell him? Like the small dragon wasn’t even there.

Jaune believed this theory. He explored all he could, gathering all sorts of gems. The mountains were expansive. He could never remember his main horde, so he stationed multiple berths throughout the sierra. Each one different then the last. Each one he slumbered in, days at a time.

There was a healthy selection of prey. Aviation, few that could escape his wings. Goats, sheep, boar, that he could sink his teeth into. Fish that tested his hunting prowess. Competition that rivaled his fang and fire.

But it did come to a surprised, one long nap. In hindsight, he must’ve overstepped his boundaries. Roused from sleep of his many beds, was the scent of garnet and bronze. And as his eyes shot up, the apex predator peered over him, a grim, amused, dangerous tinkle in her eye.

“I told you to leave.”

So the gold reptile admitted his mind. “Well, if you thought I was gone, then I would be gone. Clever, eh?”

And she chuckled, for a moment. “Cheeky. Leave.”

And he stood his ground. “Uhmm, no.”

Her tone hardened. “And why is that?”

So he stated his case. “The sierra is big enough. There is food, water and shelter. And the gems! Oh man. So no.”

All the reason Pyrrha needed. Her ire had met her quota. The great dragon inhaled, feeling her fire rise. Jaune made his stance, small and firm. Which wavered, under the glow of her leashed flame. Bracing himself, he took off. Before the head of her blaze, he beat his wings, and was airborne. The cavern was low, but wide. He could make do.

The gold dragon swerved, coming in on her left. Talons outstretched, they slashed the giant dragon’s hide. Tink, tink-tink. Blood was shed, only a scratch. He saw her claw overhead, and sank lower, avoided. Banking to her right, Jaune inhaled, and released a blaze of his own. Strong in his own right, it paled to his adversary. His fireballs served to blacken her crimson scale.

To prove her point, she unleashed another inferno, turning to face him. He climbed, scrapped the dome. And on the last of her flame, dove on to her skull. His weight lowered her, Pyrrha clicked her tongue in annoyance. Latching on with three claws, the gold dragon raised his fourth, and struck. He dug his talons as far as he could, and raked as hard as he could pull.  Her roar of pain virtually shook him free. Her thrashing catapulted through the air.

Jaune crashed into the rocky wall, rolling and reeling. Both were disoriented, and Pyrrha was quicker to recover. This shelter was lost. Nearly he was as well. Until he spied an opening. Charging, with undignified yell, the small dragon tucked beneath. Underneath the greater’s abdomen, and into a hole, just his size. A short tunnel, to be sealed by one more of her mighty flames, licking his heels.

It was by chance Pyrrha rediscovered the intruder. Her joints were stiff and ached after awakening, and returning to rest was unsettling. So when she caught the aroma of gold and pearls yet again, stronger than last, she would not tolerate his presence.

He was swift. She believed the wings were for gliding. And despite his stature, he was a nuisance. She applauded his determination, and despised it.  

She discovered his other hideouts. Impressed at the quantity. Infuriated he marked his territory. The great dragon had them dismantled, pitying that she would not use the gems herself.

And he discovered what she was up to. Though she would strip many, few would replace them. Admirable, but annoying. And the upstart had been stalking her! Pyrrha would smell his scent, during her strolls, staying close, never daring. Through the tunnels, caverns. Scaling the mountainside and rocky cliffs. Amongst the plains and forest, keeping to the foliage. Yet this, she allowed. “Gauge the apex, and see what you’re dealing with.”

He made a stand one day, during the midday sun. Rays on his back, he took the high ground atop the crags. The gold dragon stood proud, high and tall as his short legs would allow. Pyrrha paid him no mind.

The small lizard frowned. He let loose a roar, decently deep for his size. No reaction. He was insulted. He inhaled, and let loose a fireball, splashing against her flank. Twice. Thrice. He got the message. The gold dragon had no right to challenge her.

Pyrrha reveled in his scream of frustration, and knew he advanced. He plummeted, faster than the crimson dragon expected. His claws found her scalp once more, digging furiously into her skull.

She roared in pain, and the gold dragon was determined to drive her into the ground. He crashed his weight, toppling upon her, Releasing with a pinch, he waited for his adversary to stand. He knew he did not win. Not yet. Yet he smirked all the same.

With grimace, Pyrrha was forced to stare at her opponent. On the mountainside, they drew a wide circle, pacing. She was the first to break silence. “You are bold, little one."

Instantly he bristled. “I have a name. Jaune.”

“Then you should know who you are dealing with. My name, is Pyrrha.” Announced with pride.

“O-oh! ...Thank you.” The smaller dragon was surprised, at his gratification.

Their dance lasted minutes, neither making another move. But neither did they pursue. Jaune made one final cry, before retreating. And across the sierra, he felt her deafening roar, mighty and challenging. “Come fight me again.”

A shattered moon loomed over the sierra. It’s peak glowed a dull silver. A blond youth carefully leapt from one perch to another, a bulky dusty sack over his shoulders. His chalky trousers stained by mud, charcoal tunic shabby from the years. Black ram horns jutted from his temple, blue reptilian eyes used to the dark.

Jaune found the human form most handy. With a sizable increase of height, and the benefit of arms, lugging bauble from nooks to crannies was a task made easy. Made even easier once he procured the sack from a nearby dwelling. After all, he needed all the gems to replace what Pyrrha had rudely demolished.

Indeed, she was a worthy adversary. A chore to clean up the destruction she caused, but the gold dragon enjoyed a certain thrill as he fought her. Exrillingrating, powerful, a challenge, majesty. Verbs would use to describe their bouts. Never would he admit, but wouldn’t mind if their fight continued through the years like such.

An upward draft alerted the blond dragon of a scent… Garnet and bronze. To smell of the devil. Jaune scanned the foot of the mountain, to see a lush plain, bordered by trees, ah, amidst the leaves- A redhead. With long hair, tucked into a tail, and circlet of antlers. He could make out a tan skirt and corset, leaving shoulders bare, exposing imprints of spikes. The crimson dragon.

She too, had a human form. It was not the first time Jaune had seen it. Many times he witnessed her hunt. He learned she prefered the human body for such. She was subtle and merciful, compared to Jaune who tore into his prey.

In a flash, Pyrrha was gone, and his eyes followed. Into the plains, were an unsuspecting grizzly began to slumber. The perfect moment. The red dragon pounced, and quickly wrapped her arms around its neck. It gurgled, strangled, briefly, before it died. Always an impressive show of strength and control.

Sated with the spectacle, Jaune returned to his task, heaving the bag back to his shoulders. And he forgotten he sat upon a narrow rocky seat. Feet lost balance, and with a cry, a feminine cry, the gold dragon slipped. Loot and all. Rocks, gravel, cracks, nothing stopped his momentum. Every collusion resulted in a painful grunt. Tears, scrapes and bruises were collected at the foot of the peak.

The gold youth groaned, letting him settle in the gravel. He heard the stifle of a giggle. Peeking, Jaune saw his adversary with a hand over smiling lips. Her laugh was not hidden well.

The yellow dragon grew red. Abashed, and- gasp! The gems! Scattered here and there, and a small remainder still in the sack. Scurrying there and here, he picked up what his dignity could allow. Worse, the crimson woman trailed fingers over ore abandoned. Nonetheless, he left Pyrrha to feast on a myriad of aromas.

[servantwrites]

The End

Keep reading

[servantwrites]

"OIOIOI"

The immortality was starting to show its faults. I developed the elixir a century ago, off a text from an ancient tribe. I’ve seen family, friends, loved ones die, and I don’t know if my heart will harden to the pain. But I’ve seen humanity go through its roller coaster of stupidity, arrogance and wars, but countered with revolutionary leaders, scientific breakthroughs and golden ages. I loved it all.

There was a knock on the door. No one was to be expected. Couldn’t be a neighbor, my residence was secluded from other for the sake of experiments. Said experiments spread rumors to never trust this house, so door to door salesmen were out of the oquestion. So I hoped it was a surprise visit from a friend, one who knows of my secrets, and stayed in contact with, as few and far between as they are.

A man in a black robe. There wasn’t anything special about the wearer, but the cloth was unnaturally dark. As if was cut from night itself. To an average man, a reaper signified death. To me, a reaper was a challenge. A test to see me worthy for immortality. I passed several thus far; I do not intend to fail. Other than that unnatural black, nothing was out of the ordinary in appearance, which I took for granted.

“I am not here for your soul.”

That’s a new one. He pointed outside the porch, a colossal hound stood on the yard, its pelt dark as it’s master’s attire, daggers for fangs, and bloodshot eyes. Reapers encountered past went after me themselves. “Backup” wasn’t a term they were familiar with.

A sword was I was most comfortable with. The blade I wielded wasn’t too special, a steel alloy tempered by my hand. Its runic inscriptions allowed me to channel my own magic through its edge, nothing too complicated. I knocked aside the reaper in my way; he fled in a burst of black wisp. He’ll be back.

Then came the unexpected. The hound wailed, but there was a tune to its pitch. I couldn’t recognize the melody, but the mutt was announcing my death. The beast pounced, and I ducked and rolled. He swiped with its left paw, and I deflected it. We readied ourselves. I jumped at its back with a wild swing. The blade left not a scratch, and I curse myself for underestimating. The hound snatched with its maw, catching my torso. Struggling under the pain of its fang against my ribs, I focused on my magic, the sword, and dog’s eye. The mana found its focus, the blade found its target. The hound released me, howling in pain. I winced as I took in the small victory.

Charging the sword, I dashed to its flank and left a deep gash. Another howl. I struck again, this time at its hind leg, the edge nearly severing the limb. And then it’s forelimb. The beast fell, wounded. With the intent of finishing the job, I sharpen the sword with magic. An aura radiated, and the blade was brought down upon its neck.

—

The reapers give me breaks, time to study between each “test” before I am tried again. A bit surprising to see the same reaper appearing before me again three days after the hellhound exam. And he was not alone.

“Once more, I am not here for your soul.”

Zombies, skeletons, lesser earth elementals had begun to dig their way from the dirt, shambling towards the house. Whoever this reaper was, underestimated me.

I slammed the door in its hooded face, to ready my defenses. Seal the windows, barricade the doors, set up the mines, and grab my sword. My defenses weren’t top notch, or state of the art. Only items that could be charged with mana, filled to the brim, waiting for denotation.

I rushed around the abode, determined to be in all places at once. I heard explosions, the fiends had broken in. Skeleton in the living room had a smashed in skull. Zombie tried its way through the bathroom. Took its head off in with a stab through the jugular. There was an elemental in the kitchen that burst to a homemade mine.

A zombie caught me off guard, it was shrugged away. Decapitated then kicked. An elemental knocked the wind out me. Countered with a slash down the middle. Skeleton latched onto my back. Boney fingers dug into my torso, felt its jaw on my shoulder. I let myself fall, and felt it shatter. Yet I was open to a dog pile, and zombies fell upon me, merely fended with my blade. It was hard to breathe under the rot, hard to concentrate. In a moment of recklessness, I powered the sword with white hot flames, and released. The burst seared the flesh of the abominations, with me taking the brute of the maneuver.

No time for breaks, as I picked myself up. About time to end it. Their numbers dwindled as I tired. They must have been on the last wave as a surge broke off the windows, tearing through the doors.

Reverses of magic remained, I hoped enough for the job. Mental note, study harder. I channeled mana through the sword, generating a sharp aura. Increasing the output of energy, the glow doubled in size. I cared little for the state of the manor now, resources could build another. I wanted out. Out and alive.

I lashed out randomly, cleaving through walls, the blade ripped through bodies. The ceiling blindsided me, and wasn’t easily swatted away. Slicing the falling chunks softened the blows. At least it hindered the enemy as well as me. What remained of the reaper’s force was slashed to bits, as well as the house. Still, there was shelter to be taken in the basement…

—

I awoke bright and early. The aches of battle greeted me. Grabbing vials of various healing concoctions, there were downed with a bitter aftertaste. As they did its work, I began to think of the next plan of action. Relocate. Refurbish. Then a thought hit me. Reaper.

I swung open the cellar down, to see the man in the robe standing roughly where the front door was.

“I am not here for your soul.”

What else did he have up his sleeve? The robed man stretch out his right hand, summoning a staff with a wickedly curved blade. A classic scythe. Something struck me as odd. I felt it pulse. A familiar must be stored in its edge.

The man rushed at me with a horizontal slash, one I ducked and rolled from. He followed up with an overhead hammer strike, making use of the heel. Backing away, all I could do was evade. He brought the blade up from the ground, I parried. The robed man showed no signs of struggle, spinning his weapon like a baton. He wielded it as a staff with a cumbersome appendage, rather than a scythe, his style even made use of its blunt sides. It proved worthy, had me on the defense.

Suddenly, he planted his left palm into my stomach, a stunning blow. The scythe caught my legs like a hook, sending me to the ground. My hand still held my sword, yet the reaper stomped on the elbow, and it made a sickening crunch. No movement.

The robed man took my hair, yanking my head, and rested my neck on the scythe’s blade. It hummed, it groaned. My neck felt moist, I could only guess it was my own blood. Out if my eye’s corner, the scythe was drooling, growling. The reaper peered down, but his breath I did not feel. His scythe exhaled something fierce, disgusting and ancient.

There was a soul in that blade. No, a beastly specter. Arcane and forbidden, it needed to be sealed. Just who was this man? How was he able to control that spirit?

It roared in hunger. I felt fear for the first time in decades. Death had truly come! Nowhere to run, no way to defend, I awaited my long due sentence.

“Now say goodnight.”

[servantwrites]

Free For All

A bar on a packed Saturday night could never stay quiet for long.

The scene was dark, the lights were due for a change. The murmur of the crowd told of company having a good time. Beers, vodka, cocktails, were passed around with merry. The bartender a veteran on the field, enjoying the serenity.

Tonight’s uproar started with a drunken punch.

Someone had lashed out in anger to stupid drunk insult. 

It resulted in roars, threats, and ultimately violence.

The punch connected to the offender’s smirk. He was moved a distance, registered the attack, and reacted in a similar fashion. 

He took a lazy swing at his face, and it was enough to send him into another customer. 

The customer may have not joined in the festivities, had he not received a clout on the head for being in the way.

Then the gates of hell broke loose.

The first man was shoved into a table. The patrons slowly help him up, and he lunged at the second man. 

They both went tumbling into another table. It’s occupants, engaged in their own argument, acted on the heightened emotions and throttled each other’s necks.

The first two knocked into a billiard table. The sober of it’s three man party noticed the betted cash that was knocked to the floor. The intoxicated members saw him stealing their money. They assaulted in kind.

The third man, glad he was out of the fray, returned to his drink. Yet he was interrupted by a drunkard complaining about the world. And the third wouldn’t have minded as much if the drunkard wasn’t also trying to steal his alcohol. So another fight ensued. 

The tumbling two collided into a man beating his high score on a retro machine. He joined their brawl for his money back. 

The jukebox was stuck on a particular jazz. A customer wanted alternative rock. Another wanted modern pop. They could not find a middle ground. 

Two were in a arm wrestling contest. One was the victor, the table broke, sending them to the ground. It escalated to wrestling, with audience participation. 

It was the first two made their second lap around the bar when the bartender decided to have enough. He has hoped, in his small amount of hope, that the patrons would clear their heads soon and it wouldn’t look like a pile of dominoes. Such was the case. 

“BAR’S CLOSED!” He shouted over the melee. Those sober enough to hear and comprehend the meaning of his words left with intact pockets and friends they could drag away.

The bartender charged into a patron roaring with no concern with a one-two punch to his stomach, and pulled his head into his left knee. 

Next, the mixologist found a pair squaring it off to the side. Grabbing one the combatant’s back and shoulder, he built up momentum, spinning in place. The bartender let go. The two flew into a table.

There was a wild swing headed his way. The barman caught the arm with both hands. With a firm grip, the drunken man panicked and let the elbow smash into his face, leaving him to fall.

He spied a brawl of four, wrestling on the ground. Tricky. He pulled off the man with the loosest hold, the weakest link. The mixologist turned his face to his eyes, a drunken smiled plastered on. Erased with a headbutt.

Tossing him aside, the bartender picked up another by his ankle. Taking hold of his right knee in the left, he bent back the leg with his right. He screamed for a second, before passing out from pain.

The remaining two were lashing on the ground, making it easier for the peace keeper. Grabbing their skulls, he bashed them back into the wooden floor, out cold.

There was a duel nearby. One with a broken beer bottle, the other, a stool. The barman interrupted them, planting his foot into the man with the stool. The angry response of a wild swing was ducked, and the improv weapon removed, and returned upon his head.

Stepping past the falling body, the bartender was met with a thrust of broken glass. He sidestepped, and disarmed him. Snapping his arm did the trick. He finished the job with a low sweep.

Their was another two grappled with each other, both of equal match. The mixologist decided the fight in a draw, colliding their heads together.

Two left. One had the smart idea to raid the cashier. The bartender cursed himself for letting his guard down. He dashed to the would be robber, and both crashed behind the counter. Dazed, the robber didn’t see the right hook, knocking his lights out.

The bartender stood up, and adjusted his glasses. One left. Standing in a drunken stupor. The one who started it all. The barman took a minute to breath, and approached him.

“Good night wasn’t it?” The bartender said, slipping the drunkard’s right arm around his neck. 

“Ooooh, yeah! I could- hic, drink FOREVER!”

“Glad to hear…” He grimaced, breath full of alcohol. “Say, didn’t you announce drinks were on you? With that raise and promotion you got?”

“Y-yeah! ‘Suppose that did happen…” Hook, line and sinker.

“Wouldn’t mind paying for that now, before you forget ?”

“Sure, BUDDY!” With a few hiccups and fumbles in the pocket, the intoxicated man pulled out a credit card.

“Excellent, excellent,” The bartender tucked it away into his breast pocket, a twinkle in his eye. “Have a nice night.”

A left backhand crashed into his face, leaving a broken nose, a wasted liver, and an empty bank account.

[servantwrites]

No Quarter

The finest king’s men were challenged to a quest. While in the land of the south, they learned of a marching army. An army that came from the east. And army of thousands of men, all that met them were trampled under foot. An army that threatened their homeland in the north. So they must return to their homeland, and deliver the message.

There were four of them. Each of them were hardened warriors of their own right. Tempered in blade and club. Pupils of mystic words. Masters of the elements and terrain. For they needed these skills to deliver the message.

For the mountains of the north houses many a danger. Jagged crevices with no light. Howling mongrels that spelled doom to wary travelers. Tribal devils that gave no quarter. And frigid, coursing blizzards that nary a man returned from. But they had to see the message through.

Upon departure, a wizard warned them of the task, it’s risks. They insisted they traverse the land of ice and snow. So the wizard cast a spell, that would protect them from death. And the warriors were thankful, for it was their destiny to deliver the news.

The bottomless valleys were the first obstacle. One peered down into the dark, dropping a mound of snow. No sound was heard. There were remains of a bridge, snapped ropes and battered boards. So the king’s men decided to go straight through. Climbing down the blinding depths, and right back up to he other side. The mage’s spell aided their sight, and the darkness was clear. So with a hook and cable, down they went, for two days. And in three, up to the other side, to deliver their message.

On their ninth day, they heard the wolves. In the heavy hail, sounded the howling mongrels. And all they could see was the red eyes of the beasts through the pelting white. Surrounded, and no where to go, the four removed their hoods. Beneath was a face of terror, branded by the sage. The dogs whimpered, having never dealt with such a omen. They scampered, as the men continued their quest, to deliver the news.

The king’s men faced the tribal devils on the seventeenth day. With chattering tongues, they mocked the knights. Speaking of despair and termination. And the knights ignored them, they were no business to them. With pointed horns, taunt muscles and ripping aura, the devils presented a hindrance.

The men no time to deal with such foolery. They removed their hoods once more, yet the devils did not falter. So battle they did. Unsheathing blades and clubs alike. Bared talons and fangs. The king’s men were outnumbered, but no outmatched. The devils could not even scratch the armor, an enchantment of the magus. So their blades struck true. The knights showed them no quarter, for they had a message to deliver.

At last, on the thirtieth day, the king’s arrived home. Welcomed to abandoned streets, broken venues, ransacked houses. But they made their way to the castle, the chambers, the throne. Their king, slain, only an implanted skeleton to rule a ghost kingdom. And the king’s men relayed their message delayed, with clattering teeth. That the warring army was coming, and their own needed to prepare. Once said and done, one by one, did they crumble. Their bones tired of the ice, knuckles worn by the winds. And as the necromancer’s spell ceased, the light died from their skulls, the message delivered.

[servantwrites]

Ashen Winters

Another unfinished fic, this time an AU. There was a prompt I saw, of your OTP with fire and ice powers. So naturally I thought of Arkos. Yet... As far as I got, I can’t think of an ending for the life of me.

Eight consecutive blasts. One by one, the potential students were launched into the sky, to land as they please, and begin their initiation. A tall girl, amazon by essence, of red hair and auric armor. She let Akoúo̱, her round shield take the brunt of the wind, while bursts of flame at her side, angled her trajectory. Aiming for higher branches, she smashed, smashed, smashed through thin treetops, as she slid onto a thick limb.

Yet landing was not Pyrrha Nikos’ concern. Her right hand curled around a spear- now a rifle, as she used it’s sight to scan the skies. Following the screams of a blond boy who humored her, she feared for his safety. Sprawling, wildly through the air, Pyrrha quickly thought a rescue- until his screams died, and his form became streamlined. He seemed to know what he was doing. Did he know what he was doing? Nonetheless, the modern amazon followed her self-appointed charge.

Pyrrha Nikos had a quick grin when she found Jaune Arc. Half of him anyways. The second half was buried in a thick bank of snow, his legs flailing with no avail. “Help…! Someone? Anybody?” A muffled plea came from within.

“Coming!” She returned Akoúo̱ to her back, set her rifle back to its javelin form, and let her flames dance around the spearhead. When it glared red hot, the amazon plunged Miló into the sleet surrounding the boy, loosening his ablaster cushion. A damp Jaune popped of the pile, for much needed air. “Thanks! Guess I owe you,” he said sheepishly.

“So I suppose there’s room left on your team?”

“What? Oh yeah totally- Behind you!” The redhead’s admittance was interrupted, with the blond pointing to a beast out of vision. With no hesitation, the modern amazon whipped to the Beowulf at her back, and pierced its heart with Miló before it could slash.

Reliving her javelin, Pyrrha turned back to Jaune. “I’d count us even.”

“Yeah,” he slowly accepted, to halted by the sight of more Grimm. Before their dissolving mate, six more had the two surrounded. The modern amazon formed a guard around Jaune. He was priority, he was unarmed. An issue she assumed he’d fix. Crouching, the boy lifted her worry. There were two flashes, once for each arm. Then and there, he was equipped. A slim edge, and a thin rectangular sheet. Both made of ice. Sword and shield. Jaune nodded, ready, and they charged.

Pyrrha slid under the defense of a single Beowolf, with a burst of aura. One swift motion, she thrust Miló through its jaw. Flicking the still body away, she blocked a swipe coming to her flank. She diverted the claw, and the amazon scored two slashes to its torso. Letting her right hand free of the javelin, she aimed a palm at a third. Heat rose, and one, two balls of flame blasted its head, burned off.

Jaune stayed on the defensive. The best offensive, right? He shoved the sheet in an oncoming hack. Chink. The beast startled, he delivered a gash from hip to shoulder. He whipped around, ready to face the other two. The second lunged, and received a mouthful of shield. Crack. And there a stab went through its head. The third charged. The young knight braced, shield covering. Just what it wanted. Two powerful claws, together, smashed at the weak point of the sheet of ice. Fractured. Jaune cried in pain, did his best to ignore, and with both hands, drove his edge into the beast’s heart.

Grimm slain, the blond boy collapsed, pain catching up, oxygen coming in. Jaune panted, five, ten, twenty seconds, before he noticed Pyrrha’s hand of assistance. “Thanks,” he grabbed, and a spark jolted between them- lasting only until the boy was upright, and let go. Her hand was burning, he was icy to the touch. “Whoa, I wasn’t kidding when I said you’re hotstuff.”

She lightly smiled at his reference earlier that day. As they started to walk, it vanished. For the gash on Jaune’s left arm had not. In fact, he began to coat his injury with frost.

“Jaune, what are you doing?”

“Treating my wounds,” the inexperienced knight stated, like an obvious fact in the world.

“But, can’t your aura do that?” Pyrrha pointed out, obvious in reality.

To his knowledge, the blond was shocked. “Aura can do that?”

“Has it been unlocked?”

“Unlocked...?”

Pyrrha breathed, as she came up with a description, along the lines she was once taught. “Aura is the manifestation of our soul. It bears our burdens and shields our hearts. It is materialization of our heritage, and personality, taking the form of an element. However, it does take training and willpower even to control.”

Jaune worked at her explanation, coming to a conclusion. “So, it needs a little push to get working?”

“Yes. However, if you can manipulate yours without the basics,” a matter Pyrrha did not question, but she couldn’t help but notice that the inexperienced knight shied away from her gaze, “then yours seems to be leaking out. Let me open the rest. Close your eyes and concentrate.”

The blond gave a hesitant nod, slowly lowered his eyelids, and let his body relax. The modern amazon placed a tender finger on his forehead. Her green pupils shrank, as she tapped into her aura, and his own. And to herself, she recited an old prayer. “For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death.” She placed her left hand on his chest, dim was her red glow, bright was his white. “I release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee.“

The incantation finished, there was a burst. A burst of powdered snow, released from the amatuer knight. The blinked, and Jaune let a nervous laugh pass. “Whoopsie.”

She smiled at his jest. “There. You, certainly have a lot.” She took a deep sigh, her exhaustion worried the boy.

“Pyrrha?”

“Unlocking another’s does take its toll. But yours was rather easy, like a dam waiting to burst.” Indeed, and his glow had yet to die down.

“We can take it slow.” Nodding in agreement, and as the two set off again, she already knew the next four years would be considerably cooler.

Indeed, the coming days were colder. For Jaune had difficulty controlling his newfound capability. Pyrrha pieced it together after the initiation of teams JNPR and RWBY. In celebration, at the title of leader, she punched his shoulder. Hard in enthusiasm, but his arm was cold. The morning after, their dorm had a slight chill. He shivered, he sneezed in the last days of summer, and when he became flustered, frost grew. The kicker was when he isolated himself, after the first day of school. And when the modern amazon found her leader, she was welcomed with a front of cold. The roof was home to a solid patch of snow, covering at least two inches. And she found the source, lying in the middle, working on a snow angel. "Jaune?" “H-hey,” The leader of the newly formed JNPR, weakly greeted. "What happened here?" Pyrrha  crouched. She kept her demeanor calm, inside she was spinning for answers. "I-" the amateur knight paused in his work, "Kinda exploded. First day jitters, y'know?" A build up. Nervousness. She sighed at the explanation, believable. He certainly did have a lot of aura... "Are you feeling any better?" Jaune took a pensive face. "...N-no. I'm... Cold. And I've never been cold." She frowned. She offered a hand, and tentatively, her leader took it. His fingers were cold to the touch. Placing the other hand over his, the modern amazon let her warm aura flow. Steadily, her fire traveled down his fingers, to his arm, to his heart, and pulsed with his beat. Steadily, Jaune sat up, to watch his healer work. Concentrated eyes were closed, calm was her breathing. Steadily, the snow around them melted, as he let her in.

Another day, another night, and Pyrrha was on fire. On top of her game, pushing her limits. Giving her all in demonstrations, with fine tuned techniques. Not holding back in sparring, matches decided quickly with mercy. Inside she was burning. Supports were crumbling.

It was the strain to better herself. It was the way her leader viewed his objects of affection, and she lacked that gaze. It was the frustration of one Cardin Winchester’s bullying. Upon the timid, and the weak, with no regard for his seniors. Velvet Scarlatina  was one target, and once Jaune stepped in, he was was next. Indeed, she was burning.

A burning Jaune felt. During their nightly training, each strike had a hot air, and Jaune actively sought to match her temperature. Enough to maintain his projections, enough not to overclock. A balance he managed, a balance Pyrrha was gradually losing.

When she disarmed him a third time, lacking in swiftness, and powered by fury, Jaune knew something was up. “Pyrrha, you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She nearly snapped, and by a fraction, he flinched. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” The fire hoplite was visibly panting, profusely sweating. Pyrrha radiated heat like a bonfire. Never had the leader seen the modern amazon this worked up.

A nod was her response. To this, Jaune fell over, himself exhausted. “Could we take a break?” She gave him a warm glare. True, he was dying for a break, but from where he was, it looked like she needed it more. Her pupil let his projections fade, sat himself up, and patted the asphalt next to him. “Please?”

Not quite Ruby’s level of innocence, Jaune’s puppy eyes worked on Pyrrha. With a sigh, she took a seat. The ice knight felt her exhaustion, and sought to balance. WIth his sessions with his mentor, it wasn’t hard to exude his icy aura. And it worked, for Pyrrha began to breath in level.

“Aha!” An idea popped into Jaune’s head, that startled each other. He stood up, then back down, crouched, finding the position for his task. Aura extended to his palms, and released a ray of frost. His hands curved, molded, and he formed a short wall of ice. He duckwalked around the modern amazon, enclosing the two of them. He stopped in front of her, in order to make a stout exit, his igloo complete.

“Been a couple of years since I made one of these,” the ice knight lamented. It was cold. Refreshing. Homely. And Pyrrha hummed in ease. Once Jaune was settled, she let herself breathe. Releasing pent up hot air, she was surprised to exhale a cool mist. Inhale, exhale, and she was able to smile. As she laid her head against her healer’s shoulder, he decided to bring down the temperature. For he still felt her heat rise to his cheeks.

From then on, they confided in each other.

“Reinvent?” Pyrrha had followed her leader to the roof at Jaune’s request in the cafeteria. The modern amazon ignored the jeers of Yang and Nora, but the rooftop was cold when they arrived. Tense. With two breaths, it was relieved when Jaune told of his issue.

“My sword and shield, have a habit of… breaking.” An issue Pyrrha was more than aware of, since the first day. “So I’d like your help to reinvent them.”

“Have you asked Ruby or Weiss?” She inquired. The leader of Team RWBY built her wind scythe from scratch herself. Her teammate, similar to Jaune, created her weapon by dust manipulation. The suggestion brought a downcast look to the amazon.

The two solutions dawned on Jaune’s ears as he heard them. “...That would make sense! But- you’re the one training me. You’re the first person I thought of.”

The value of priority nearly gave Pyrrha a heartfelt blush. as she smiled. “Well, thank you.” A deep breath. “Then let’s get started. Could you equip yourself?”

Her leader complied, making a stance, as she taught him, before two cool rays built his armament. Pyrrha walked to his left, his shield, and asked for it. Studying it, testing. A simple rectangle, a thin sheet of ice. It could not do.

“It needs to be thicker, able to withstand blows. Luckily you can repair in in battle, but that should not be relied upon.”

“Thicker...” Jaune repeated, and nodded. The ice knight set to correcting himself, making a stronger shield. He handed it over to Pyrrha, satisfied.

“Thicker yes, but not everywhere,” she concluded, after her examination. With a strong jab, it resulted in a crack left of the center. A crack to the shield, a crack to his grin. She eased him with a soft smile. “It’s not something to get on a first try. Start slowly.”

And so they did. The teammates sat side by side, as Jaune formed the shield, slowly and carefully, as Pyrrha measured and coaxed. By the time he had a grasp, lunch was over. “We have the rest of the afternoon,” the mentor reminded. And she was met by a focused, eager student at the end of their last class.

“Do you have any preference for shape?”

“Umm,” Jaune pondered, before, going into his scroll. “I’m thinking a kite shield?” He finished, showing his tutor a collection of images on his device. “But,” he exclaimed, “A little curved! Little yours! For throwing!”

The fire amazon chuckled at his show of admiration. “Any shield needs a curve, rounded to deflect strikes.”

A comment he took in note. Again, he repeated, and resumed where they left off. He molded the shield to what he believed was perfection. She smoothed out the angles, fixed its thickness, and shaped it to his design. After an hour, the shield was serviceable.

“It’s good to recite. Practice its form, remember its shape.” And Jaune sought to it, before anything else. In comfortable silence, against her back, he practiced. Again, again, and again.

The next day he began to hone his edge. “Your sword is as important as your shield. It needs to have the right balance. The right length to suit you. Light enough to wield, heavy for impact. An-”

“An extension of my arm?” He added, a small grin. “I know that one.”

“Yes! Very good.” Again, as before, he equipped his sword, for the mentor to evaluate. A decently sharp icicle, uneven edges, nothing more than a makeshift pike.

“Were you going for a longsword?”

He nodded sheepishly. “Thought it was simple enough to be done on the fly…”

“Simple yes, but like every other weapon, requires careful construction. But… may I suggest an arming sword?”

“Huh?”

“It’s not too different than a longsword, but it has a shortened hilt, optimal for one handed use, accompanied by a shield,” The modern amazon explained. Her pupil responded with a deep “oooh,” looking over the current blade.

With prior experience with constructing the shield, the sword was carefully designed, measured, and brought into being. The hilt allowed for a second hand, and comfortable for one arm. The blade was two and a half feet in length. Smooth, sharp edges, and a stout point.

It was on the fifth day that he got it down. Repeatedly, over and over, he projected his armament, as not to lose the practice, not to lose his touch. A wide kite shield, with curved sides. A strong sword, dual edged, light and firm. There was a touch of his own design. The shield bore the indentation of family crest, as did the crossguard of his blade.

It was before dinner, that Jaune was able to summon both with flourish. Never were they perfect, but stable, trustworthy, and strong. He couldn’t help but make a show. The ice knight flung himself into various poses, summoning and despawning his equipment at will. Pyrrha watched his performance, a melancholy smile to her gaze.

“It’s amazing what you can do, to create.”

“Huh?”

The two realized a conversation was initiated, and began to stammer.

“Sorry, I was talking to myself-

“Did you say- oh I mean- I didn't hear-”

Downward eyes silenced them both. But Jaune obeyed his curiosity. “What's- what’s the matter?”

“Just… Just a selfish thought.” Pyrrha admitted, trusting her teammate to her words.

“I think you'll be fine if you told me,” Jaune pried, closing the far distance.

So tentatively, the fire Amazon repeated her statement. “It’s amazing that you can create, while I can only destroy.”

“Oh.” It put a damper on the temperature than the leader knew he was possible of. And while she told him to ignore it, to continue his dance, Jaune pondered it all the while. Until a few days later, an idea formed and exploded.

The ice knight was bouncy on his feet, on the night of their training, more so than usual. His face betrayed him, never calm, his mind racing miles a minute. His smile forced, off putting.

When Pyrrha declared a break, Jaune immediately shoved hesitation out the door. “Could you show me a fire?”

His mentor blinked twice. “What for?”

The boy’s eyes froze. They darted from hers, to the ground. Pyrrha, and to the side.

“Well…” he stated,  “I want you to show me, so I can show you, and- show- you-”

The fire amazon cast a worried gaze. “Jaune…?”

“Forget it!” He yielded. “ I want to show you fire can be pretty!”

Pyrrha gave a tiny jolt, blinking once at his hasty confession. She heard in it full, but did not discern. “Huh?”

The boy shut his eyes, focusing on nothing but his meaning. “What you said. That your talent can only be used for destruction.” His moppy blond head shook in denial. “I don’t believe it!”

“Jaune-” She didn’t expect him to take her selfishness, that one comment, to heart. She didn’t expect Jaune’s pried open eyes to shine with admandant faith.

“I’m serious! Like, have you seen a room of candles?” He couldn’t help himself, his voice giving into heightened volume. “Firebreathing? Fireworks-oh my gosh fireworks!“

There was a pause, to breathe, restoring a breath he didn’t know he lost. “Tell me you’ve seen a firework show.”

It was a jab, despite the desperation. Lightly, she laughed. “Yes Jaune, I have seen a firework show.

The ice knight slid an inch closer, leaning so slightly. “...Can you make one?” His gaze sombered, perhaps embarrassed for his zeal.

“I haven’t tried.” Pyrrha admitted.

“Could you try? For me?” And she could say no to her infatuation, pleading request.

The fire amazon pondered on her method, raising her left hand. She couldn’t do anything too sparkly, too dangerous, they would be underneath the aftermath. But, something to impress. With a sigh, closed eyes, a flame was conjured in an open palm. It waxed and waned, her aura concernated. And she sent the lone flare, lifting into the sky. The rooftop shone cherry red, dim, and dimmer, as the flame made its flight. Pyrrha counted from seven, a safe number, and let it burst. A bright burst, into an array of streams. She flinched at the noise, hopping it wasn’t too distressful… And the embers trickled down, to the face of a delighted Jaune.

“Sure, fire can be loud. Explosive. But it’s bright. It’s warm! It’s beautiful!” The ice knight raised his arms, gesturing to her whole. “It’s you!”

She breathed a little chuckle, half a laugh. Her eyes turned to his, hunting for some truth to his words. “Do you really think so?”

He audibly gulped, Pyrrha’s smiled widened a fraction. Eager and affirming was one nod. “Really! Yeah!”

With two grateful steps, the Amazon reached out for his fingers, wrapping her index around his. Her fire was blazing, and Jaune didn't mind in the slightest. “Thank you.”

He took her hands, folding them completely. “Anytim-”

His lips were sealed by hers.

She had to lean in, she felt light, she felt like she was flying. His lips were a touch cold, given his nature, and she had to resist the temptation to stay there. Pyrrha rocked her heels back to a neutral position, standing before a starstruck, frozen Jaune.

“Oh. You. Oh.”

Her apologize was tiny squeaky “Sorry.”

Heat flushed up Jaune’s face, allowing him to slowly thaw. His own words came out as mumbles, rambles. “Umm… So... Er-”

“I-”

Pyrrha was cut off, before her lips were pulled back onto his. A yelp was muffled, nearly heard through colliding teeth. A shorter time frame, only because of Jaune’s footing. Breaking the kiss, before rooting himself a little closer.

“...I didn’t know what else to say.” And their hands gripped a little tighter.

[servantwrites]

Mentoring Dreams

So this was an crossover idea I had for a while. As the title suggests, it’s Jaune Arc, dreaming of different people to help him train. At first I limited to only sword and shield users, as that’s what he was. But as my idea of the “The Perfect Jaune Arc” wavered, so did the teachers. And unfortunately, my desire to complete this fic. So while not much, here’s what I have.

Jaune Arc awoke in a field. Clearly, this was not the bed he fell asleep in. Groggily, he sat up, just in time to watch the moon dip down over the horizon. Behind, the sun dragged over the hills. Dawn.

Despite the welcoming light, his vision felt hazy. He basked in his surroundings. Sprawling plains, patched with trees. An ominous mountain loomed to the east, wearing a ring of smog. A ranch stood in the middle, directly across from a radiant castle town. This was not Vale.

The boy was startled, awoken from his stupor, by an approaching sound. Hooves, thundering and rumbling, from the south. With nothing better to do, Jaune invested. Jogging up the hill, he was rewarded. Right before him, a horse rearing and neighed, knocking over the blond boy out of shock.

Scuttling away, the steed planted her front feet on the grass. A magnificent steed, of chestnut brown and pure white snow. Its rider, looked at the leader with a firm but amused look. Dressed in a pine green tunic, a leather strap across his torso. Tucked in a similar shaded cap, blond hair and elfin ears. He belonged in a forest, as its guardian.

“H-hey,” Jaune broke the ice, ”How goes?”

The horseman only gave him a quick grin, and dismounted. For each step he took, Jaune took another back. With ease, he reached behind his back. A royal blue shield of noble design, adorned with design of red wings, and a golden crest. A longsword, double edged and a winged purple hilt. The traveler held himself calm.

Jaune panicked. He was meant to do battle? Now? But he had- and he suddenly realized Crocea Mors was in his hands. Was it there the entire time, just unnoticed? Or was this truly a dream? Nonetheless, he breathed, and took a stance. He had been trained. And this man would give him no quarter.

Neither moved for two minutes.

The blond leader was puzzled. Weren’t they fighting? Were they… not fighting? The stranger’s atmosphere was relaxing, but that not change the fact he was armed. So Jaune slowly approached, and the blond rider nodded. Beckoning.

So Jaune struck. An experimental, weak stab. Blocked by the shield. The guardian responded, a horizontal slash. Quickly, Jaune stayed behind his own shield. And waited. Reluctantly, Jaune slashed. Blocked. The stranger responded. Blocked. Cut block, stab block. The exchange seemed familiar. Evaluating. Much like Pyrrha would-

“Hold on,” Jaune had to stop, and the stranger backed off. “Are you coaching me?”

Only to confirm his vow of silence, he nodded. The blond leader released a sigh he did not know he had. The idea, while odd, was welcome.

The two practiced for days. Parallel drills of basic attacks. Simple evasions, focused on studying the target. Sparring, at a comfortable level. Never once did they rest. Never once did the experienced swordsman speak. Never once did he share his name. Yet Jaune was content.

On the seventh day, the guardian did not hold back. It took Jaune all his might to keep on level. Little did he give the younger room. But the leader reacted, finding his way through openings, and kept standing. But when the hero delivered a strong jumping slash, Jaune’s defense faltered. To finish, the hero gathered himself, and Jaune felt his aura. It was unleashed, a whirling spin, blasting the blond leader down.

He was defeated yes. But he felt he learned. Crocea Mors was comfortable in his hands. Truly, an extension, and his guard. Standing up, he rushed to thank his teacher for the lesson. But like the wind, he was gone. A whispered “thanks” escaped his lips, before his vision was enveloped in white, and awoke in JNPR’s dorm at Beacon. He brushed the sheen of sweat from his forehead, and was compelled to repeat the final technique.

The next night Jaune awoke not in his bed. A wind swept through, chilling to the bone. He whipped his head to the gust, and gasped. Clouds. He was above the clouds. He dared to venture, to the edge of the platform, and held an icy pillar for support. White misty clouds, pure blue mountains. Jaune dared not to look down.

Before his nerves got the better of him, he studied the rest of the terrace. The place was practically made of marble. Ornate windows held by navy blue. An altar confined by granite, where two blades rested. Frost grew on kelly green steps, surrounding a statue, a woman of a sword and shield. Was this place… a shrine?

“Well are you just gonna stand around?” A voice echoed through the shrine, of a person that wasn’t there before. A blonde woman met Jaune as he turned. Short hair kept behind an ivory headband. Strong blue eyes matched her cerulean and pearl sleeveless dress, kept short and served as a skirt. White long gloves gripped a royal blue buckler, and a stout short sword. “Or are we going to train?”

The blond leader was only confused. “Huh?”

The swordswoman sighed, patience already thinning. “Aren’t you my new training partner? The other guy said you’d be coming.”

“Other guy…?” Jaune paused for a moment, to remember the dream of the previous night. Only to be confirmed with the familiar weight of Crocea Mors in hand. “I… guess?”

A smile found a way onto her lips. Immediately she took a ready stance, bobbing. “Then leeet’s go!”

And the boy did little to brace himself for her approach. A standing horizontal slash, knocking his shield back. An overhead stab, he felt his arms numbing. “Is this what you got? I’m just getting started!” Her taunt snapped the leader out of his stupor, and allowed himself to relax. Roundhouse kick, he backed away. Jaune stepped in, a stab of his own. His stomach was wide, and the swordswoman delivered a knee.

She was brash, hardy, and ruthless. With each attempt he made, the maiden struck two more. No space to breath. Yet it let Jaune work on his guard. Blocking her torso swings, jumping her low slashes. But his defense was nothing compared to her acrobatics, deflecting of Crocea Mors itself, jabbing his back with her pommel.

Standing up for the eighth time, the blond boy protested. “Go easy, will ya?”

She pretended not to hear. “I’m sorry, what was that? I ain’t my niece! Idiots aren’t going to pull punches!”

The maiden had a point. What Jaune went up against, would never show him mercy. So he grimaced, and braced for the next round.

Yet, she softened. Referring to her shield, rather to her blade. He spied openings, with a longer window. And he took the chance to learn. Mimicking her moves, striking as she did.

The blond leader did not have her agility, stance or strength, floundering over her simpler maneuvers. “Nonono, ugh. Like this.” The older blonde exhibited, watched Jaune perform, and explained his faults. “You can’t do it half-assed,” elaborating on his somersaults. “Put your all into it!” Demonstrations involved a front to back posture. She felt his blush, and it felt good to be the big sister.

Seven days had passed, with his falls increasing, his recovery maturing. Jaune felt proud to stumble, get back up, and try again. Agonizing yes, but steadily he stood. On the seventh day, both blonds were aggressive. Each clash flashed in sparks, brakes, and competitive smiles. The day wore down with Jaune’s stamina. With an overhead smash of the swordwoman’s round shield, he barely stood. Another overhead jump, a slash. Followed with a series of slams the leader still blushes to. A hip check caused him to stumble. Pure buttocks to his face. And her shield, crushed under all her weight, to his cranium. Jaune could only lay on the ground, dazed and confused.

“Whoa.”

“Don’t tell me you are into that,” she teased, a light giggle.

“N-no!” He quickly rose, head dizzy, brushing off the claim. “Just… I felt that. Really strong.”

The blonde maiden pondered. “Hmmm… why don’t you try it?”

“I don’t think I have the butt for it.”

“Are you saying my butt is big?” She teased again, with mock anger.

“No, no! Mine is too bony,” Jaune tried to save his own behind. “I don’t think it’d have the same effect.”

She cocked an eyebrow, making the boy gulp. “Well, it looks like it’s time,” she announced, judging the sunset. “Gotta go. Just remember. Your team is your family.”

Once more, his vision was enveloped in white, and he swore when he awoke, the faint image of a rose pink heart.

[servantwrites]

Bounty Hunter!AU

She's here. Jaune Arc cursed under his breath. And as much he wanted to keep his eyes on the board, before she would grab any, he stole brief glances at the competition. Long crimson hair styled in a ponytail. Golden spear and bronze circle shield slung on her back. A tough muscle cuirass over a red chiton, outlining defined abdominals. A short sword decorated her metal pteruges. Greaves held by covered sandals. There was no denying she was strong. There was no denying she was beautiful. 

He's here. Pyrrha Nikos' eyebrows creased into a frown. She took one long look of the knight before studying the board. Unruly blond crop poked from a black hood. Said cloak was kept down under a silver chestplate and pauldrons. A glove gripped the pommel of his sword, the kite shield bared on his other arm. An array of knives also donned the belt. An obstacle in her bounty hunting career. An obstacle, that every now and then, presented a challenge. 

Theirs was an unspoken rivalry. A rivalry either party approved of, but never did they reject the other's presence. Friday nights they would go to he same tavern, square off against the same board, and select a bounty before the other could. Rarely was their target the same. 

Rip. When they saw each other eying the same prize, they nearly tore the poster to shreds. When neither hand lessened their grip, cobalt Blues challenged peridot greens. 

"Could you, let go? I saw it first." Jaune resorted to the age old rite of claims, which did nothing of effect. "Please." A half demand, half whine. 

Pyrrha knew she was the better person. She was polite by nature. Let him take the bounty and find another. But she won't let go. Tonight was the night she put her foot down on this thorn in her side. 

"Why don't we do it together?" 

"Huh?" Jaune's eyes grew, at the mere mention of working with the redhead. "I mean- I saw it first- Well-" Finally, after thirty seconds of thinking, he decided. "Alright." 

Neither let go of the poster.

[servantwrites]

just... lemon custard

A twitch of the eyebrow, a tap to his temple. The blond switched statures, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

He was cornered. More than half of his forces have been captured. Walls were smashed, soldiers slain. Only a handful of officers remained, loyal to their king.

The pink haired girl “giggled,” a teasing gesture of trembling shoulders and a clever smile. She stood amongst her finest, surrounding the king with the elite whilst breaching his defenses.

This war between tacticians had been waged for quite a while. The bodyguard chanced upon the leader during a causal investigation of the academy, a blond teen solving strategy puzzles in calm summer breeze.  

So she decided to entertain him. And herself. One look at the lanky leader, and she predicted an easy win. And win she did, but a struggle he offered, fought tooth and nail. Rarely, victory was his. And they both knew he could be better. So war continued. One to improve, one to dominate.

He stood up, expending a muffled, elongated hmmmmm, as he spied the board from all angles, eliciting another “giggle” from his opponent.

He peered over her shoulder, the game from her perspective. She gave him a smug smirk. He responded in kind.

He returned to his seat, rereading the battlefield. To go here, or there, or… Blue eyes lit up, as he moved his queen back, extending her range, breaking down a wall, and closing off escapes.

He turned to the pink haired bodyguard. He presented a triumphant grin, in mimicry of her own vivid silence. His eyes held a confident twinkle, after weeks of struggling skirmishes, he had bested her.  

Wide eyes scanned to board, looking for follies, moves of error and misjudgment. His queen guarded the right. Two pawns stationed that neither could be taken. The king himself squared off against her own… Aha.  

Had her dynamic silver eyes not detected a sliver of an escape, she would’ve believed him.

Retreats were her specialty, after all.  She wagged a finger at the incorrect declaration, and pointed out the opening in his assault.

Briefly, his hot air deflated, only to brush it aside. He resumed his vigilant patrol, a sharp eye anticipating her next move.   

Oh so close, was she to breaking his adorable morale. She’ll just have to try harder.

Neopolitan was having a bad day.

The assassination wasn’t completely botched, simply erasing a stool pigeon that talked too much. Killing him wasn’t the hard part, but opposition met her retreat. Her parasol was ruined in the fleeing firefight. It must have been a stray bullet, luck was not in her favor that day. And to top it off, her namesake she craved, the swirl of chocolate, strawberry and vanilla she needed... her favorite store was out of stock. So even as she reluctantly gawed at a lemon popsicle, she was feeling bloodred murderous.

Jaune Arc’s smile and invitation made her forget a little of that. As she sat down for their regular game of chess, her devilish gears began to twist, as she devised another way to bully the leader of JNPR. Take his knight. A few pawns. Give him hope in her bishop. And claim a rook. But something was different about him. He viewed her choices with query, and adapted, ever so slowly. Not enough to make a difference, but enough to make her pay attention.

“Neo, you okay?” He had a small beam, slowly replaced with a look of soft concern. She must’ve been off, if it picked up on his dense radar.

The bodyguard intended to give him a reassuring grin, but a foxy thought turned the smile mischievous. Jaune perked an eyebrow, and turned his attention back to the game. Perfect. Scanning for openings, attacks, weaknesses… and he felt a brush against his leg.

He jolted, curious as to what that was. Too late to see the fraction on his opponent’s face right itself, he returned back to searching. Neo’s chair moved closer, and she sank lower in it. Another brush, closer to the knee. Closer.

“Neo? What’s up?” She waved away his query with an innocent simper, moving a bishop toward his king. It gave him the distraction she needed, he was in check.

As Jaune scanned the board, feverishly, Neo continued to slump. Lower. Lower. Perfect. And right as the blond leader decided how to protect his king… a foot swept over his crotch.

He jerked out of his mediation. To look up. And see the determined head of his short opponent peeking over the edge of the board.

She was sure the table was smaller.

“Neo?” The call of her name upset her from her mission, a tiny blush growing on her cheeks. Caught red handed.

“Are you trying to play footsie?”

The childish accusation broke her composure. Suddenly she was upright, standing at full height, and face contorted into fury. Her short fuse lit Jaune, bursting into a fit of laughter. It was only amplified when the board was overturned, the pieces raining down.

Jaune had been pleasantly surprised when his little chess rival took up his chance for a date.

(So I was thinking we don't... Always have to play chess... Right? Maybe just you and me (well it's always you and me), take a walk?")

He hadn't been surprised when the first thing Neapolitan tugged at his shirt sleeve(tugged and then dragged) they do, was that they get ice cream. (“Well it is your name... Ow ow! You don't need to pull so hard!")

After her made his selection of a bowl of blueberry ice cream, Jaune expected her to choose her namesake, but not the style of her sweet.

"A Triple Popsicle Neapolitan Combo?" She held the delicacy aloft by one handle, the three flavors neatly fused together. The blond leader looked at the treat, and bodyguard, and treat, with wonder. Neo gave him an enthused nod.

"So... Could I have one?"

The tiny girl looked offended at the suggestion, guarding the popsicle closely.

"So you're going to eat three at one time?"

Relaxing, she quickly drew her scroll, swiftly typing a response. "'I like to alternate.'," Jaune read. He couldn't find any faults in that logic.

They found a quiet bench, on a path others strolled through once a while. The sun wasn't too hot, and cool breeze brushed periodically. Jaune couldn't think it any better.

His eyes wandered over to Neo. He didn't want to gaze too much, but three popsicles? Felt unnecessary. Must be a terrible sweet tooth.

She took a stick, and made a perfect break in the seam. Slowly, she eased the confection through her lips. The strong slurp made Jaune jump. Continuously, until she finished with a powerful pop. Neo turned her head to her date, and he caught himself staring. A second realization formed with her sly, mischievous smile.

She returned to her treat, licking the base with an expert tongue. Deliberately slow, making sure no inch was not covered in saliva. When she flick the tip, the blond leader recognized the stirring in his groin. A stirring that increased with the start of the second popsicle.

Snapping off the chocolate coated sweet, she alternated between it and the vanilla. Long sensual strokes, chocolate, vanilla. Chocolate, vanilla. Coating her tongue with their sugary essence.

Jaune audibly gulped. Too stunned to say anything. Too entranced to get her to stop. It was wrong on too many levels, but it only added to the ardent. What if someone walked by? What was he going to do to with his popsicle? And where was she going to put the third one?

The answer was soon revealed to his aroused horror. As if she knew what he wanted, she took the strawberry ice cream, and stuck it down the most erotic place in public eye. The cleavage of her open jacket.

Jaune could only watch the spectacle for a single minute. Rolling licks to the left. Hard, lustful strokes, in long spirals. The right, her hungry mouth sucked, voicing her needed for the sugar. The middle sweet dripped, oozed down her chest, standing in the sun, begging for attention. And Neo did not disappoint, leaning in, picking the tip with her lips, and let gravity slowly slither it down her throat. Taking the handle, sliding it up and down, up and down, trickling with her saliva. He could imagine the scrape of her tongue along the length- the lengths, each lengths, he felt hot, dry, wishing to take the ice cream’s place, needing-

"I-I need to go- gimme a minute-" he stuttered, quickly placing his own ice cream, long abandoned, and sought out the nearest lavatory. And once he was out of earshot, when she believed he could no longer hear her slurping, the bodyguard soundlessly, heartily, cackled.

Finals were over. And Jaune was drained. All his studying, his training, and practicing lead to a score above average. He was just happy for it be over. Instead, he had to appease a faction he had to abandon over studies. His chess mate, Neopolitan dragged him to a nightclub.

It was her way of celebration, she told him. A job done, and he got the sneaking suspicion she missed him. Not that he voiced it, or her own absence. But the club was not his style.

He could've denied, should've denied, but the puppy eyed face she gave him broke all defenses. She looked so fragile, adorable, lonely and sad, even if she was anything but. Nonetheless, he gave in, and here they were. And he regretted every minute.

The club was dark, dim, save the splattering lights. The music was loud, and not his type. Despite how one no checked for an ID, the idea of getting drunk didn't please the leader. And that was only the half of it. The other half was his date herself.

Periodically, his phone received texts from her, that immediately sent him blushing. A glorious shot down her shirt, already generous as it was. It was the little smirk at the top that was inches from setting him off.

The few times he wandered the floor, he soon wished he hadn't. The crowds seemed to have her hands, and they caressed him back to front. Jaune would search high and low, and maybe he'd make out her head. He wasn't entirely sure if she was mute, but he swore heard the most mischievous giggle.

There wasn't much to do otherwise. The crowd was standoffish, barely approachable. Maybe another lap around the place, maybe he'd find Neo, God knows where she was-

The music hit his ears in a low hum. Atmospheric, until the cool arctic ring. Repeating, tapping his fingers to the beat, growing louder and louder. He shifted in his chair, seeing an opening in the crowd. The sine waves made the bass, and he was on the dance floor.

He was a little jerky, he felt a little rusty. But he sold himself it was his style. Limbs flowed with the tempo, locking with the electronic scratch, popping with the organic sound. Gears shifted to the music, and he felt natural.

There was a whistle, the vocals spat "bitch", and the song was over. Seconds passed before he remembered where he was, pinpointed by the small applause he received. One and two, but Jaune felt the heat rise. No time to take into account, the next beat was starting. Feet were moving, and the blond was back in the zone.

Neo was on her fifth drink when she realized that her date hadn't responded to her latest teasings. Checking her phone, it was twenty minutes since last sent. Nothing should be keeping him in trouble, but now the bodyguard was curious what he was up to.

Turning around in the stool at the bar, she didn't need to look far. Through the throng, Neo spied the familiar mop of gold, bouncing to the music. Was he a little off? He didn't seem to care. He was working with what he had, and she  to say she was impressed. A leer creeped over her lips as the dance continued, following his arms, chest, legs and hips. Quite impressed.

The song finished with a foolish pose of Jaune's one she had to chuckle at. However, one-two things shut her up. A blonde and a brunette. Making nice. Too nice. Too imitate. He was doing the proper thing and bade them goodbye... Until the blonde gave him a slip of paper. He accepted. Neo didn't notice the new crack in her glass.

Flushing the toilet, Jaune was surprised he was having a good time. The music was good, and got him moving. Oh so moving. Pleasantly surprised he had admirers. Looking over her phone number, after washing his hands, he was attempting to commit them to memory, when another thought picked at his brain. How did get-

Neo. He had completely forgotten she was the one that brought him here.

And speak of the devil.

She stood in front of the corridor, a cold dread washed over Jaune. He dared to approach, soft steps, "Oh Neo, I was looking for you! Well, okay I wasn't, but figured you'd be fine," he joked. He didn't get far, as nimble stomps crossed before he did, and the steely gaze forced him back. He had an idea that his dancing caused this fury, but the puzzle wasn't entirely clicking. "Hey, hey! If it's a dance you want we could fix that..! Right?"

Left hand grabbed his torso, and with leverage of unstable footing, and a surprise yelp, slammed him against the wall. Right knee found his crotch, firmly pressed. Jaune moaned as his groin was squeezed, doubling over, glancing into his date's eyes. Silver and pink. She snatched the paper, forgotten in his hand, crumpled. Once at level, once his punishment was suitable, Neo yanked his collar and brought her lips to his exposed neck.

A forceful kiss, held for three seconds. He fussed in confusion, and groaned at the arousal as she applied suction. Sharply, he gasped, eyes darting to the bodyguard when her teeth dug into his flesh. He whimpered, pleaded for her to stop.

Upon release, she made him look into her eyes. The moment, heavy and intimate, was all the talk she gave him before turning on her heel, and huffing down the hall. Shreds littered the ground in her trail. The blond leader only stared in confusion, rubbing his new brand as the pieces clicked together. 'You are mine.'

Lazy Sundays were when Jaune thought it was best to do nothing. He slept in, had breakfast, stared at the wall for a good ten minutes, before deciding his time was best spent crashing on the couch and playing video games. Halfway down the forest dungeon, armed with a sword, shield, and a floppy cap, he recognized a weight. The multicolored head of his roommate, leaning against him, with a sour look on her face. "Neo, when did you get here?" He had to admit her pout was adorable, but a little uncalled for. Gray and brown eyes were usually a bad sign. Was there something he forgot? A date he missed? "Neo..?" He prodded, hoping to get a hint, she scoffed and looked away. Jaune sighed. Hopefully his punishment came later. Back to spelunking, the dungeon was flying by easy. The puzzles weren't too hard on his morning brain, well equipped to deal with the manner of monsters, even the mini-boss was a breeze. His sword, a moment from sinking into a bear demon's skull, Jaune suffered a great stimulus from his groin. Nearly jumping, a presence between his legs reared her head. The bodyguard had toyed his member, had worked it erect, all without his knowing. "Neo?! Ugh!" She tightened her grip, and continued as there was no interruption. Trailing the underside, with one finger. Stroking him, creeping and agonizing. How did this all happen so fast- His eyes fixed to the screen, that told him he received a game over long ago. "Neo..." He whined, over his interruption, earning him another clench. She pumped him with rhythm. Slow slow, fast fastfastfast slooooow. To make him squirm. Dreamily, rousingly, she drew circles around her lips, the head tracing a cruel smile. She bit playfully. Dragging her lips across his length. Up and down, up and dooooown, up and dooooown, teasing the base.  She sucked, pulled and squeezed his balls. The cruel pain and pleasure made him choke. "Mmmhm!" That was it. He needed relief. Reaching, just a little, one tug at her hair- Shnk. A flash of silver struck the couch, inches from his hand, centimeters from his genitals. He had no idea where the knife came from, how long she was hiding it- but glowering magenta eyes made the point: she was in control. And it made it all the more hotter. The threat made him throb. A surge ran down his spine, and he released a wanton gasp. The throb surprised Neo, and took pleasure in the reaction. She made sure he saw her toothy beam. Another throb. She covered the length with her tongue, flicking the head, circling it. Kissing the tip, she began to suck the head, solely the head. Succulent pops made holding back a nigh dream. She pumped him with rhythm. Slow, slow, fast fastfastfast, slooooow. To make him squirm. He needed to grip her, but the knife never left her hand. The thought brought another surge of pleasure. She engulfed the length, and Jaune moaned, finally feeling her warm mouth. A feeling he wanted to last, and he could feel her lips curl into a simper. Hand over mouth, she shifting down and up, never completely covering the full shaft. Shifting from a loose hold, to vice grip. Simply tantalizing. She hummed, low and long, the vibration made him quiver. It was her eyes that set him into a fervor. When he did catch contact, they never were the same. Each blink, a new combination. Pink. Brown and pink. Pink and brown. Pink. And they never lost the intensity, the desire, the lust. "Neo-" he mewled, the burn overtaking, and did nothing to stop the flood of the orgasm. She let her hand drop from his shaft, letting her mouth do the rest... Only to pinch his sack, bringing the flow to a complete halt. "Neo?!" Jaune cried, at the sudden change, the cruelty, as his pleasure suddenly ceased. The pain was crawling, tormenting, as the torrent oozed back down to the source. Her wicked grin was removed from his shaft. His seed trickled over her fingers, tasted in measured licks, savoring what amount she did allow. When his cock was limp, did she stand from her position, and saunter off with a sway to her hips. The blonde knight squalled in his strife, lowly whimpering, taking into mind not to ignore the tiny seductress again. Again.

It was a rough but profiting night. The tiny bodyguard sought to protect a very important person, for a vital business transaction. And what better assistance, was the addition of a knight. He was reluctant, but the pay sweetened the deal, and he obliged. The deal went sour. With the inclusion of a third party, the negotiation was out of their client's favor. It would've left them at odds ends if they complied fairly. They played a little dirty, and the winners took all.

So Neo and Jaune returned to their abode, a little tired, a little red, and very much rewarded. Covering their tracks, they picked up a nice lasagna dish on the way back to the flat. Just the two of them, the knight supplied the vocals but that never changed the celebratory mood of their dinner.

Polishing his plate, Jaune took a moment to reflect meal. A meal he heartily devoured. "Mmmm, that was good..." He started to rise, before Neo lifted a finger, gaining his attention. His partner in crime walked to the refrigerator, looking for an item in the fridge. The knight tempted to help, tempted to tease, but she obtained three plastic containers before a jest. Setting them on the table, to grab a bowl and spoon, Jaune clicked it together. "You made me homemade ice cream?"

The bodyguard returned with the utensils, a smile for the correct answer. He felt his heart warm at the gesture of affection, one that he sorely needed, sorely missed. Neo looked like she made enough to last a while, judging the size of the jars. She made three scoops, vanilla, chocolate, strawberry. What else but her namesake. With a shower of sprinkles, she texted, "Bon appetite~", and displayed the salutation.

"Then don't mind if I do!" Jaune said gleefully, starting immediately. The vanilla was oh so smooth, Bits of the raw bean were added, giving a taste of smoke to a creamy substance. The chocolate ignited something hot in the knight, and the cold wave that hit his brain cooled him for a second round. The strawberry felt innocent, cute, juicy, and  oh so sweet. Each bite was amazing.

One thing that was a flaw. There was an indescribable aftertaste that Jaune couldn't pinpoint. It nagged at each swallow, fading in and out. A strange, tangy taste, while not bad, seemed... out of place. What was it...?

Finishing the second scoop of chocolate, a small cough told the blond knight his attention was needed. Neo sported a curious look, a faint blush, as she hoisted the phone to his eyes. "I made it with love~"

"Awwwww," Jaune cooed, his own heart soaring. It wasn't everyday they had this kind of affection, one moment he would not take for granted-

She returned her phone to add more, the next line cause a puzzled head tilt.  "My love nectar."

He hesitantly swallowed his latest spoonful, an audible gulp. "Your what?"

She merely readjusted her phone, a small tilt, confirming the repeat of the statement. Jaune looked at the dessert, more than have gone. Well, if it would morphed into something horrendous, it would have done so already... Still, he poked it with the spoon. Analytically, experimentally, he took another bite.

As he savoured the taste, searched for the taste, as Neo leered upon him, lips smacking, and as Jaune swallowed once more, it dawned on him. "...Whaaat?!"

Neo's composure broke, and she began banging a fist upon the table, shoulders racking in silent laughter. The knight was dumbstruck, spoon clattering to the surface, as he spouted gibberish.

“But- That.. And you.. Means- How-?”

Lagging, he began to wind down. And Neo hadn't stopped her fit. So much for that affection. But now a different moment was at hand. Suddenly he rose from his chair, and grabbed Neo by the waist. Had she a voice, he would've loved to hear her adorable shriek. Instead, he was content with placing her on the counter, and matching a glare that maintained her blush.

"If you wanted me to eat you, you could've said so."

He tugged on the hem of her pants, roughly pulling at her bottom. The other hand scooped her thighs as they were appeared, smooth vanilla skin. He brought the pants down to her dangling feet with a slack, dropping to the floor. Slipping his thumbs underneath her thong, Jaune licked the cloth. Damp from before, his actions, he didn't care. The scent of strawberry and vanilla filled his nose, just as he liked.

When Neo became restless, catching the thong, she needed it removed, the knight complied. Dragging the underwear down, he slowed his attention to her moist crevice, trimmed pink this night. Brushing her lips with his tongue, Jaune longingly assisted the lubrication. Longingly, easy and enticing. Brief glances of her face guided him. Encouraging pink eyes when he licked her labia, shutting them as he sucked. More than anything he wanted to see her lip biting under the pressure.

Two hands grabbed his locks, and Neo pushed his numbskull where she needed it to be. Crossing her legs, she dug her heels into his shoulders, scraping him on the edge of the counter. Her entrance in his face, lightly breathing, careful breathing, he had no choice.

Dipping in the tip, he lapped at her nectar. The taste, he still couldn't put his finger on it. Strange, bitter, sweet? He remembered the ice cream, her ice cream, how it was mixed in, and longed to hear her scream.

He traced her name, fast and slow, short and long. A sharp corner was a shudder, a curved stroke a squirm. She gripped him harder, and he moaned under her hand. A finger, two fingers explored her crevice, as he left to tend to her clit. He felt her shiver, as he licked, sucked. Exploring, reaching, pushing and stretching, and it was one flick of the nub that did the trick. The spasm racked them both, as Jaune eagerly cleaned up the nectar.

Neo forced him back down for thirds.

November 7th. The air was crisp, and golden, red and orange leaves had bloomed. Halloween had come and gone, but Neo insisted on continuously wearing her costume. Jaune tried to stop her the first time, but in due time, he grew to accept it. Embrace the bodyguard's obsession with the holiday. And it alerted him for what was next in schedule.

He swore half the reason she wore was just to entice the knight. It wasn't everyday after Hallow's Eve she wore it, and sometimes before. Just to give him a tease. But Jaune knew what to expect when it was donned. After all, it was the same costume she wore very year, and never failed to get the same reaction.

Jaune was lounging around the morning of November 7th. Half awake, browsing channels, browsing his scroll. He registered his roommate strut the doorway, and a split second to recognize what she was wearing. Red thigh high boots that flashed vanilla legs. Matching sleeveless mini dress that curled her ample hips. Fitting opera gloves of red velvet. Mistletoe that tantalized her generous bust. And the classic Santa cap, each piece of the costume lined with a snowy trim.

Jaune spied the tiniest tilt of her head, the twinkle of the sliest eyes, before his attention turned back to her rear. It's motion, hypnotic, and cast a spell that needed no translation. As soon as the Christmas elf was out of sight, around the corner, the blond knight jumped, and to at least calm himself, steadied a pace.

He didn't get far. The next room was empty, save a devious leg. Jaune fell face first, lucky to catch himself. A brisk kick to his stomach came from nowhere, and he rolled away. A second foot stopped the momentum, and the knight was treated to a sadistic smile. A sadistic smile, and her bare pussy. Her hips fell to his face, an “eep!” of protest muffled, and she licked her lips in anticipation. Pelvis rolled into his mouth, once, twice, and Jaune reluctantly complied. She gave him no choice, but to eat.

Her hands found his locks immediately, shoving him where she craved. His tongue slithered into her entrance, she gripped tighter. The trace of her name, quickly her quivers ran down Neo's spine. Her hips ground into him, he felt her hums. Complying to her needs, he flicked her clitoris, acutely swelling. A flick, a circle, a swirl, and he left a finger as he returned to the entrance. A kiss to the lips, a nibble. Her hips pushed where she demanded, again and again, yet Jaune focused on his route. Another hand snaked up her side, groping her breast. Alternating, roughly with no time for delicacy. Two fingers gave the nub a pinch, and Neo relaxed as the orgasm hit. Shudders shook her hips, her fingers relaxed, and the knight smiled under her rocking pelvis.

White noise lasted for minutes. Neo's panting, accompanied by a leer. He let her sit, thankful she gave him time to breathe. He needed his own release. As soon as he made a move to do so, her fingers locked around his hair. Hip shoved into his mouth. To his widened eyes, Neo mouthed 'Again.'

No. Five seconds to gather his strength, to grope her arse, and heaved her off. How he wanted to hear her shriek. Sitting up, the tiny bodyguard was pushed into his lap. An arm wrapped her waist, the other pushed the couple to standing height.

A tentative, a pushy guide moved Neo to the wall. Rarely did Jaune take the aggression, and she intended to take full opportunity. Arms pinned, her back to him, and yet she presented herself, with the cheekiest nudge, with the flash of a toothy grin.

The knight's pelvis smashed into her arse, pressing her body to the wall. He could see her gasp, startled eyes, and he went further. His free hand shoved his boxers to the floor, member free and lined with her sex. Steadily Jaune plunged his way in.

"I'm filling you up-" he declared, and stopped. The line was too corny that even he couldn't finish it, so he let actions speak for him. A long hard thrust nearly lifted Neo off the ground. Sliding back, the next drive was softer. But he maintained the impact. The connection. Each ram was an attempt to reach her womb. A strong, leisurely beat, as he pleased.

His hand grabbed her right breast, full and firm. Right for her height, his palm. Kneaded, to feel all sides, the nipple pulled and tweaked. Coaxing walls fueled him. Reaching across for the other, the knight slammed into her again to return the brand of long ago. His lips sank into her neck, with a long suck. The bodyguard's quiet choke grew slowly with each second.

His hand slipped from hers, faltering the rhythm. He struck another impact to make up. Both hands slapped into her ass, and dug into her flesh. His efforts wholly doubled. Pounds were rougher, and the pace quicken. The blows shortened, yet became faster. Every so often, a strike would remind her of the length. Thrust pushed Neo into the wall. Thrusts met her womb. Thrusts hungered to claim her.

His mouth found her neck again, teeth sinking in. Her back arched in, hips pushed against his, and he slammed into her womb secreting his seed. The impact drove the bodyguard to the wall. Her walls shuddered, the orgasm shaking her into the floor, ever so sleepy. Her body shaking with the last of his spurts. At last resting on the ground, Jaune removed himself from Neo, catching himself on one knee. His seed, her nectar, leaked from her core, presented in the air. The knight found himself in a sheepish smile. Leaning over the bodyguard, his rigid member prodded the entrance once more.

"I don't think I'm done yet..."

And her sneer dared him to bring it.

[servantwrites]

I’m a photographer and you’re really hot, would you like to be a model?

A mother and son creating angelic imprints. A father holds tight to his two daughters as they sled down a hill. Five teens in a free for all snowball fight. A small child parades in a shower of thrown snow. A man rolls together frosty life.

Jaune surrendered to the wintry air during his fourth lap in Central Park, taking shelter in a cafe. The photography student compared his findings, and with a few flaws, was satisfied. Piled together, the project was seventy-five percent done. A presentation of the citizen of the metropolis. And with the recent blizzard, frolicking in winter’s white canvas seemed like a good theme. Maybe it was a good thing he was a few days overdue.

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