#so far it's been a hard nerve block day folks

[queenlucythevaliant]

Want to rant about this post, because it makes me seethe every time I come across it. Nothing against anyone who's reblogged it, just want to give my two cents.

A migraine is NOT the same as a bad headache! Migraine a specific neurological condition which is frequently (though not always) characterized by headache, as well as numerous other symptoms. They're caused by some combination of nerve inflammation and uneven vasoconstriction/dialation in the brain. As such, there's no such thing as a "sinus migraine" or a "tension migraine."

Acupressure and massage *may* help to relieve some measure of migraine pain if you can stand being touched long enough, but it won't help the underlying neurological condition, which is more similar to a slow-motion seizure than any other type of headache. I'm sure pressure helps with tension headaches and maybe other types of headaches, as described, but those are not migraines! Words have meanings, gang.

However, in calling these non-migraine headaches "migraines" and then suggesting that they are easy to treat in this manner, the post suggests that migraines are a much lighter matter than they actually are. This, and discussions like this, cause real migraine to be taken less seriously by the culture at large.

Fundamentally, the thing about the original post that irritates me so much is that basically none of the people on it seem to have any idea what migraine actually is. There's been a move in recent years to try to make people more aware that medical language is very specific and shouldn't be abused (ie OCD isn't just "having a messy room bothers me," it's a specific disorder that, if untreated, can massively harm people's lives), which I think is great. At the same time, there's a growing tendency to pathologize everything, from personality tics to low-grade headaches, often in the strongest terms possible. While I'm not for the policing of language in general, I do feel that it's at best insensitive and at worst actively harmful to use specific medical terms in situations where they simply don't apply.

Most headaches are not migraines. Speaking as though they are leads to a misinformed attitude around migraine which suggests that everybody gets them, they're easy to treat, and they're not that bad actually. This attitude has caused me material difficulty so many times over the last nine years that I couldn't even being to tally it.

[lemonlizardlover]

Saltbaker x Reader (Ask Edition)

(So tired of school, enjoy Anon. I'll post on AO3 later. ASKS ARE OPEN!)

Your day started off great, you had put on your most business casual outfit and were more than ready for this interview. Saltbaker was well-known. Well, famous actually, across the Isles. The way he carried himself and showed devotion to his work. It was inspiring. And to be honest, very attractive. Not often have there been many hard-working suitors, but even so, Saltbaker was one of the more sought ones. 

When you got there, however, you were overwhelmed to see how the line to the bakery whipped around the block. Other folks chatted amongst themselves about how excited they were to interview and others showed visible signs of anxiousness. 

The line moved slowly, but it gave you a good chance to examine people's expressions. Some people left crying, “I totally botched it!” or “I’m not getting this job.” And some a bit haughty, “Oh, I know I got the job!” or “He smiled at me the whole time!”

Soon it was your turn… He greets you at the door. “Good afternoon!” He beamed, extending a glass hand. You smile and take it in yours, watching how you could see it through his big transparent hands.

“Afternoon Chef!”

You both walked through the bakery, through the kitchen, and then into his dining room. You sat at the table after fixing your top and he sat down across from you. You quickly take a deep breath before beginning to speak. 

“Chef Saltbaker, I think I would be the best candidate to help you work in your bakery, and to not choose me would be a mistake,” you blurt, the words pouring all at once.

His face went from a smile to shock. Your face went from nervous to shocked. 

He laughs. A deep laugh. A happy laugh. “Is that so?” He asked. “Well I’ll be honest no one else has warned me about not hiring them before. Let me have a look at your resume.”

You hand it over to him, trembling a little. You tried to avoid making eye contact in the process. He takes the resume and reads it over. “You have an interesting name…” He says after a while, “Very interesting.”

You nod, fiddling with the bottom buttons of your top.

He remains quiet for a while. You use this time to scan the area. It was a spacious house, photos lined the walls as well as blue ribbons and gold medals. You also saw a few kitchen-themed decorations hung around such as an embroidered “Fresh Baked Pies Served Daily”, “Eat, Sleep, Cook, Repeat”, a very intricate painting of the ‘The Creation of Adam’ where God gives Adam a loaf of bread, and a few other items. 

“This resume of yours is truly acceptable,” Chef Saltbaker said as he puts it down on the table. You feel sweat pooling under your arms, having waited minutes for him to finally say something. “Not a lot of candidates make it this far…”

You feel your nerves lighten at the “compliment” and a smile forms on your face. “Well, I’m glad to hear that… Should I expect a letter in the mail or something?”

“Oh no… You’ll find that out today,” he replies. He starts to get up from his seat using the table to prop himself up. It creaks slightly against his size. You now start to realize how he towers over you… “Next is a cooking demo, something quick so we don’t take too long. What will you prepare?”

You didn’t think this far… “Um… I’ll make…”

He stares at you with an unreadable expression. Your eyes dart across the room. You see bananas. Banana cream pie? Boring. Then you saw his snow jacket. Beignets? No, those would take too long… 

You continued to search for ideas when you landed on a painting of a humanoid moose wielding a hunting rifle. That was it!

“Chocolate… Mousse…?”

“Chocolate mousse?” He asked back.

“Yeah… A pie,” you say as you get up, “I think it’ll be great.”

“You think?”

You bit your lip, “Sorry, I meant… I know.”

“Good!” He said as he returned to his cheerful demeanor.

You walked into the kitchen connecting his house and the bakery. The door leading to the bakery was closed. It was just you and him. You went to roll up your sleeves before grabbing an apron then realized this shirt was on pretty tight around your arms, it’d get messy! You laughed nervously as you turned to Saltbaker. “Sorry Chef, I’m kind of overdressed for this. Mind if I take this shirt off?”

He looked at you, still smiling, but his eyes were emotionless. “Next time, for future culinary interviews, you should dress ready to cook.”

“Future culinary interviews…”

If that didn’t confirm it… You weren’t getting this job. You removed your shirt and put the apron over the tank top you had underneath. You wash your hands and get ready to create.

You spent the next 30 minutes preparing chocolate mousse. You tried your best to stay calm as he peered over your shoulder a few times, but not a word was exchanged. You didn’t even stop to look at his reactions but you could feel him… Judging. There was even a point when he left the room and you could finally breathe. He returned after 10 minutes. 

Once you finally finished, you presented to him a cup of chocolate mousse. Complete with chocolate shavings, two layers of milk and dark chocolate, and a mint garnish. You looked at him for a reaction, arms outstretched. 

He was leaning against the counter. “Why don’t you take a bite for me?”

You gulped. You took a spoon off the counter and dipped it in the cup, scooping some of your creation. You place the spoonful of mousse into your mouth and see him staring at you out the corner of your eye. You take a while to taste it… It tasted good!

You smile and swallow. “It’s good, I can tell you’ll enjoy it…”

He gets up from his lean and takes the spoon from you. He takes some of the mousse and tries it. His expression was unwavering. He lets out a small, “Mmm,” with a smile before he puts the spoon back in the mousse and walks away to a counter. 

“That’s not too bad…”

“Thank you, Chef-”

“Now how badly do you want this job?”

“I-...” You stop to think. Was this a trick question? “I would die for this job.”

He didn’t reply. His back was turned to you. The tension was scary… 

“Would you now?”

“Sorry?”

“Cooking takes time… It takes care and practice. It takes dedication. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Chef. But I-”

He walked closer. “And it takes precision and devotion. When you make something you have to be willing to not just make but FIX mistakes. When you are willing to do so, you make better if not perfect works. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Chef…”

“You say you’d die for this job… Are you sure? You’d die to bake and make something gone in a few bites? You’re willing to give up your soul for this?”

“I guess? I wouldn’t say all that but maybe?” As those words left your mouth, you felt something cool pressed against your neck. It was the blade of a knife. When did he?

“It’s a yes or a no question.”

You froze in panic. His amber eyes were crazed. You knew he was committed, no, DEDICATED to his work. But not like this… 

“Yes, Chef,” you say in a choked whisper. 

“Good job.” He lowers the knife, “I already sent everyone else away. It’s obvious you are the one meant for this… I need someone willing to see things the way I do… And I’m positive it’s you…” He smiled, flashing his pearly top and bottom teeth. “Congratulations.”

You felt a cool tingle in your body. Probably excitement that you got the job, but at what cost?

“Now I need you to do something for me…”

You set the mousse down. “Anything Chef.”

“That mouth of yours looked good around that spoon.”

You felt your heart start to pound in your chest. What could he be insinuating? 

“I’d like to see it around something else, of course. If you’re serious.”

“I’m not too sure… In the kitchen?”

“I did say if you’re serious.”

You gulped and moved over to him. Hesitant. You tried to avoid looking him in the eyes. His smile was long gone, but his eyes remained a frightening gold, helping define his pupils. “Could you… Just… Pull them down.”

“Are you incapable of doing it yourself?”

“No, Chef…” You reply before getting on your knees and moving your hands under the hem of his pants. He was warm. Under other circumstances, you’d maybe like to cuddle with him, But this isn't that. 

You pull down his pants and watch as his glass erection springs from its cloth containment, nearly hitting you in the face. He was massive and precum already beaded the tip of his penis. You gulp before moving your mouth to kiss his base. You start just above his balls, up the shaft, and ending at the tip, licking away the liquid forming. He lets out a soft grunt as you start again. Stalling. To “spice” things up, you start to fondle his balls with one hand using the other to stroke his penis. 

After a while, you could feel his hand hold your face. “Quit stalling.” You didn’t hesitate. You nodded and opened your mouth, fitting just the top. You stroked it with your tongue and let your saliva coat his dick. 

“Further…” He moaned. You did as you were told. You took his dick further into your mouth, the head now touching the back of your throat. You had reached about halfway.

“To be honest with you… That chocolate mousse of yours was very good. I could tell it wasn’t your first time…” You moved his penis in and out of your mouth, saliva streaming down the corners. “Similar to this… You must’ve had prior experience.” He put a hand on your head. 

You pulled your mouth off his dick for a quick breath. “Yes, Chef.” Before he could say demand you back on, you put him back inside your mouth.

“Now about that mousse. It was good but, it could’ve been better. You could’ve whipped it a bit longer, the taste of egg was surprisingly still very detectable.” He pushed your head down. His cock now entering your throat. You lifted your arms to hopefully hold his legs and prevent him from going further. 

“It was still a bit runny, not yet firm. But somehow you made it work.” He pushed you down further, his other hand grabbing your arm and pulling it towards him.

“Next time beat it slowly but still have that hold on it. Make sure everything is mixed equally~,” he said as he then took both hands and pushed you completely unto him. His cock was fully sheathed in your throat. He let out a sharp moan and his knees buckled slightly. You felt tears pooling in your eyes as you struggled to breathe. 

He finally pulled out and smiled, looking down at you. You coughed and gasped for air. “Do you understand?”

You heave a sharp breath before nodding, “Yes, Chef. Thank you for the notes.”

“Good,” he says, softly cupping your cheek, “Now continue.” 

You put his dick back in your mouth and he quickly returns to his job. He proceeds to facefuck you pushing himself deeper. You wince every time he reaches the deepest parts. Your nose, pushed against his glass surface. You were no longer afraid to make eye contact with him. Most of the time he didn’t look back, he was busy rolling his eyes in ecstasy. 

Soon, you felt something hot entering your stomach. He held you in place as he came down your throat, no need to swallow. His dick twitched as he emptied his contents into you, followed by some of his moanings.

He pulled out, dick flopping, and leaned on a counter. You licked your lips and swallowed again.

“I hope that demonstration of my seriousness is enough proof for you,” you say in a snarky tone, wiping your mouth.

“More than enough,” he replied, pulling up his pants, “You did a great job. I just know that under me, figuratively and literally, I could teach you so much more.” 

You slowly get up and undo your apron. “I’m looking forward to this Chef. Thank you for this opportunity.” You hand him the apron and let your hand brush against his. His warmth still felt welcoming but now you’d have to maintain a professional relationship. You’d be working together, alone, in a tight kitchen… 

“See you tomorrow. 10 pm, not a moment later.”

“Of course!” You beam. You grab your shirt and nod at him before quickly moving past him out the door through his house. 

Smiling to yourself, you now have not a care in the world. You got the job and a special Saltbaker creme pie, what a day. You lick your fingers and turn back to face his house for a while. Honestly?

You wouldn’t mind having another one. 

[icanfixhimclub]

𝐼𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚 || 𝑅𝑎𝑓𝑒 𝐶𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑛

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Slight Dark!Rafe, drug use, lots of swearing, kidnapping, mostly fluff

Summary: You will always be it for Rafe, wether you like it or not.

You had been it for him. Since the moment Rafe Cameron had laid eyes on you in 4nd grade, Ms. Wilerds math class, you were it.

“Hi! I’m Rafael, people call me Rafe.” The taller blonde walked up to you with a lopsided smile. “Hi, I’m y/n.” You were hesitant, your friends had told you that his dad was the richest in outer banks, that if he didn’t like you, you were screwed, this was fortunately, not your case. “I think you’re cute, wanna sit with me at lunch.” His question caught you off guard, no boys had talked to you so far at your new school, so for the first one to be a complement was a shocker. “Uh, sure, that’d be cool.” “Cool! Al-“ “Rafael get in your seat!” “Oops, bye!” “Bye.” You had lunch with Rafe that day, and every other day too, quickly getting along.

Then in 7th grade, when he suggested doing a double costume with you for Halloween.

“What about, like, a zombie bride and groom?” “Wouldn’t that make us look like we’re dating?” You looked at him in confusion but he just shrugged, “So? It’s be fun.” You think it over but eventually argee, spending 3 weeks working on your guys costume. By time Halloween came, you guys undoubtedly looked the best, from make up to clothes. “You know, I think you should be a bride one day, my bride.” “What are you talking about Cameron?” You looked up at him with a huff. “We should get married, Y’know, just without the zombie part.” You just nodded and munched on a Twix, “Whatever you say Rafael.”

And how could we forget Sophomore year when you had your first major injury in hockey.

“And Y/n/n is taken down with a hard hit into the boards!” Your head is spinning, no strength in your body to get up. Everything was drowned out as you heard Rafe’s screams. “Y/n/n is not getting up! This can’t be good folks.” A teammate skated over to help you up, reaching out a hand. You tried to take it, but as soon as you leaned yourself in your right arm, pain shot through your nerves and you let out a scream. The game had been paused and you had been taken off the ice to be looked at. Long story short, you sprained your shoulder and can’t play for the rest of the season. Rafe was the first person in the locker room to check on you after the doctors. “Are you ok? Who shoved you, I swear I’ll kill ‘em.” “Rafe, I’m ok, alright?” “But you’re not! You’re gonna miss the last game!” “Rafe,” you use your free hand to hold his face, “Calm down, I’ll be ok.” You kiss his forehead and he sighs.

Then shit went down hill senior year.

“Hey Rafe, I think I’m gonna- what the fuck?” Rafe was leant over a table with some random dudes by his side as he snorted a line of coke. You scoffed and he finally looked at you. “Y/n! Hey, hi, hey.” His words were slurred and his eyes were fixed on your boobs. “Whatever Cameron, thought we made a promise but whatever, I’m walking home.” You turned and jogged out of the house, Rafe calling after you. It was pouring outside and you were suddenly glad you brought your moms old wind breaker, shielding you from the rain a bit. You weren’t even a block when you heard Rafe’s truck beside you. “Y/n get in, you have another 4 blocks, you’ll catch a cold if you don’t.” “Fuck off Rafe, no way I’m getting in a car that you’re driving.” “Then I’ll let you drive, just get in the damn car!” You finally stop and glare at him. He gets out of the truck and gets in the passenger as you get in the drivers side and head to your house. He opens his mouth to talk but you cut him off, “Save it, talk to me in your not high out of your mind.” You pulled into your drive way and silently got out of the truck and into your house.

Even after you broke up, you could still never get rid of him, even if it means taking certain measures.

You woke up in an unfamiliar room, the room quite literally swaying. All you remember was you were at your house watching a movie then passed out. You sit up off the couch and look around, fear sinking in as you look out the window to nothing but ocean. “What the fuck.” “Oh, you’re awake,” You jumped at the sound of Rafe’s voice, “You’ve been out for a while now, got a bit worried for you sweet heart.” “Rafe where the hell am I? Did you kidnap me?” You recoiled into the couch as he steps towards you. “I wouldn’t say kidnap? Maybe, borrowed you for an uncertain amount of time.” “Rafe we broke up 6 months ago, why the hell did you take me?” Rafe laughed and sat beside you, brushing your hair from your face, “You didn’t really think I’d leave you be that easily? Besides, everyone misses you, me, wheezie, Rose, Ward-“ “Ward is dead.” “Mhm, sure sweet heart.” He leaned forward and kisses you, and no matter how much your brain fought it, your heart fell in love all over again with the sweet boy who used to be your best friend, and you melted into his kiss. He pulled away and smiled, “Knew you would come around.” He grinned and kissed your cheek before leaving the room and locking the door from the outside.

You were it for him, and always will be. Wether you like it or not

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Aarakocra Boyfriend: Enzo

This is for 2,000 of you lovely people following me. Thank you all so much! <3 This took more than a week to write, all thanks to writer’s block and burnout, so I’m thankful that I somehow managed to get this out lol. 

Also, may or may not have gotten inspiration from Revali-- anyway, enjoy!

Part 2

Relationship: male monster x female reader

Burning Heart

Fresh snow. Fresh snow that had fallen a hundred-foot deep, cleansing the land for eternity.

"The last time I saw snow this deep, I was just a little boy, still clutched to my mother, unaware of how big the world was." Your companion marvelled. "My father was smart enough to never go further up north—he reminded me. I did not gain his intellect."

Calder was a man who came from the nearby town of Ravensfell, a few days out from Briar, but he had been more of a cold type when it came to first-time introductions. Eventually, you got to open up more of him, little by little. His olive skin, chiselled features and rugged beard made him every female's focus, but the poor man was either too oblivious or polite to acknowledge their flirtations. You couldn't help but laugh at the failed interactions. Poor man, too preoccupied in his own toil.

He became a well-appreciated acquaintance for you on your long travels from town to town, east to west then south to north, but his company was all good experience. After all, he was the best sellsword for the job, merely a guard for you whilst you continued your researches; the sight you needed when you turned your back.

Your team's campaign had led you and your small faction to head further up north, to a small village of Oakendenn full of proud and efficient warriors, the bird folk that had carried the same customs for centuries, evoking both fear and wonder into those who bumped into them. Granted, their seclusion from the world had been brought down quickly when travellers and researchers intent on learning about them came rushing at the chance, ruining their solitude for good.

Stepping foot into their quaint town was certainly a spectacle, having to meet your guide to finding such remains high up in the mountains of Fallde Slopes– if the slopes didn't kill you, the snowstorms could freeze the group within hours if they didn't take the right precautions or clothing.

"You say there is a guide who will help us?" The small dirk in your hand was smooth and unused, still brand new as the day you had gotten it. You were situated in the town itself, in a cramped yet warm inn that was all opened up to the elements, trying to remain unaware of the cold stares of the innkeepers.

"He's one of the finest warriors, apparently. Familiar to the lands and every speck of snow that litters this land," Calder's laugh was hearty. "Must pity us for our lack of feathers and wings."

"The Aarakocras are fierce, brutal they are with fighting as they are as with foreigners." If there was one thing you learnt, it was that not all the people you ran into would be so welcoming. "Careful you don't offend them. We need their apparent aid."

Calder grumbled something as he tended to the flames of the room, poking them occasionally. "Sooner to be done with this job and we can get out of their feathers, huh?"

"That's it, just think of it like that. And soon, you can be back to the warmth of the south."

"Thank the Gods," Calder smiled sadly. "I don't think I could spend another day away from my little Zerlina." You remembered the girl when you were riding out: a sad, tearful girl the spitting image of her father, tight dark hair so wild and knotted. You had remembered the night before the trip you had brushed them out gently for her the way your mother used to do for you. Just to help Calder out.

The poor man is a good father overall. Even if he doesn't see it.

"She'll be so happy to see you again, Calder. She misses her father dearly." You reassured quietly, watching the man again. He was worn and beaten, littered with scars and thick, burly arms. He longed for home too.

"I hope so too." He stretched, saying his goodnights to you and the others before heading to his cot to sleep. You followed, heading to your own bed before you couldn't find sleep, wishing you had someone to wait for you too.

Even when you remained aloof, you still tried to remain somewhat friendly to strangers, even to the guide who had gone out of his way into helping you. But they certainly what you had been expected.

"It seems I have to be a tour guide for your pesky expedition, hmm?"

The smile from nerves of introducing yourself to him had fallen from your face after hearing the words so sourly come from him. It didn't take much for you to build up the walls high again.

Your hand faltered, just in reach for him to shake, awkwardly pulling away. "So, you're the Enzo we were expecting?"

The first thing you noticed about him was how vivid his feathers were: the brightest compared to his countrymen. Many of reds, oranges and yellows, like red sands of the far south of your home; beaten and threaded like a thousand coppers. It made the winter sun far in the north much more lively. By far the prettiest of the others. You admitted, but only could you wish his personality was as lovely as his appearance.

Another thing you noticed about him was his wings: they were separate from his body, large and tucked behind his back, his hands similar to any humans but with long and curled nails for fingers. His bird body was dressed in what looked like traditional garbs: leather and a basic tunic and pants, his taloned feet poking out and tapping against the ground.

"Your boss was the one who called for me, asking if someone capable of knowing their way around these parts, clearly, you humans don't know much about us Aarakocras," he jeered, eyes a lovely golden colour even when they were staring intimidatingly down at you. "So, you're the one they call the Doctor?"

Clearly too prideful, I've noticed. You scoffed. All too stubborn like the snowstorms. "That is correct."

"So I've noticed," Enzo crossed his arms around his broad chest, the amusement was pooled in those eyes as if he was in on the funniest joke around. "Clearly all of your studies have gone to a degree than in common sense."

You pondered whether it would've been ideal to punch the bird square in the face, or whether provoking him would end with your untimely demise.

Instead, you squared your shoulders, straightening your posture as you pointed just behind him. "You see Fallde Slopes over there? Its hills have been receding in the last 100 years, meaning any day now, your village could be woken up buried under layers and layers of snow. The snow stops here, meaning you and your people could be facing the demolition of this region and its inhabitants." You crossed your arms too, copying him. "I'm just trying to help unless you think my studies had gone elsewhere?"

Enzo scoffed, a puff of feathers that ruffled up. "Let's just resume to what we're good at, hmm?"

-

If travelling anywhere had taught you anything, it was that you shouldn't trust any higher-ups, believing everything will be smooth sailing.

The reports and samples scattered across the slopes, dancing dangerously too low to the cliff edges, some succumbing more than others, and those in your group scrambled to save them. Enzo remained arrogant as ever, doing little to help and rather smugly watching the ordeal, complaining often that your group were "walking too slow" and "we were running out of time for sunlight".

You were situated in the corner, silently taking note of what was around of little life preserved, before the beating of wings perked your ears. Snow crunched delicately when the Aarakocra stooped beside you, watching with soundless intent.

"So, this is what you do?" He grazed at a small patch of dirt you had brought up beneath the heavy snow. "Looking at dirt and grass?"

"All of this hold important information for us to understand how the landscape is changing," Enzo couldn't help but to have his attention piqued when he heard how almost automatic your response was, informing rather than belittling him. When you looked up to meet his eyes, it was hard to gauge his reaction: head tilted, seemingly drawn in from how far leant to you he was beside you.

He quickly dismissed it, pulling back from the noticeable closeness, and the burning feeling in your chest fluttered too quickly for your liking. "Whatever keeps us alive, I suppose."

Another presence came over to the two of you, heavier than of the Aarakocra. "You think you could help me with this?" Calder was looking over at Enzo, who, also was staring with narrowed eyes at the bearded man.

"Yeah sure," you gave an awkward glance to both men, realising something was piercing the silent air. "Is something going on?"

"No," Enzo, puffed his chest out, giving Calder little regard as he turned his head. "You go off with your dog, I'm needed elsewhere."

You watched him walk away before turning back to Calder, head tilted. "I'm going to pretend nothing happened there."

"Agreed," Calder affirmed, pointing you towards the deeper parts of the woods where the treelines met and increased in sizes and numbers. "I think I might've found something."

"Lead the way." You gestured for him to take the lead, directing you through the trees. The snow was freshest in these parts, untouched and light, airy. A wonderland was discovered in a small corner forgotten from the world. Beautiful. You marvelled. I will never get bored of seeing this.

"What's wrong, Calder?" He stopped you when the two of you reached the middle of the area, overwatching the large view, the mountains dipped and the view from the top pointed directing to the Oakendenn, situated right in the opening of the valley. "It's right in target," Calder addressed, thick eyebrows knitted. "And that means a direct hit for the snow to collapse in on it all."

"We could have a day, week or years before this region is completely smothered." You noted wretchedly. All these reports, research and hypothesis, yet you felt like it all went to no use. It seemed like everything was too late, that hard work going down the drain. "I wish we could've done more."

"And we have, do not fret," Calder reassured, patting your shoulder that you needed from a comforting friend. "And we will do so much more. Let's head back to the others, keep all together."

Right, but still, I feel useless. You dusted the remaining snow off your warm clothes, trying to remind yourself of the crunching snow below, your foot sinking with every few steps. Like everyone relies on you all the time. The only sounds that were heard were the distinct soft crunches of the two of you heading back, before one wretched and horrid resounded, echoing along with the trees, some birds fleeing from their branches of homes.

You looked back to Calder, who looked back in confusion, listening closely to the cracking of the earth as if it had split open. Your right felt for a second as if it was sinking lower, taking your body with you as all your body weight brought you down so suddenly, snow following too, making your body crash into it with force as you waded chest-deep through it.

Your voice was sudden and nervous, watching the ledge you once stood at grow taller and taller above you, a weightless feeling take over your body, the scream of your name as unknown darkness settled around you before you could hit the ground.

-

The first time you had seen snow, you had been seven, marvelling in wonder with friends at how magical it all seemed. Never did you worry about the eternal cold, of it encasing your entire body and leaving you worthless and alone. You always had the warmth to rely on: warm blankets and hot cocoa and fire to share stories around. The cold was sore and biting, an eternity of nothingness but yourself.

You didn't know how long you had been trapped in darkness: how long you had gone unnoticed or remembered. Maybe this was it... just oblivion and emptiness. You tried to invasion your limbs, your fingers trying to tread through the snow like it was water; too thick to even pass through, but trying and trying to feel your fingers and toes wiggle again.

You clawed and clawed slowly until the darkness lightened and that bleakness turned to hope. You kicked your body out as you breached the surface, coughing and spluttering weakly, an invasion of pure cold and ice felt trapped in your throat.

You laid there with your head against a block of solid ice and snow, trying to steady your breathing, the cold and winds were never-ending, never giving your body a break as all felt numb.

I'm going to die out here. You thought. Will my story be told again? You wanted to laugh, to call for help, but your throat was stinging from its frostiness.

There was a distant, soft sound of tree branches moving and swaying, how the dead leaves swayed and moved with long, drawn moans, wings of small birds flying off from the abrupt noises. The flapping of wings never ceased, ringing in your ears, reminding you didn't have wings yourself to fly off from this nightmare. It was only when you could open your eyes was when you saw the blurred large figure descend in front of you, all feathers and intimidating, you wished to cry out in pain for your misery, but once your eyes focused, did you noticed something familiar about it all.

A rush of feathers, brown and red, as pretty as coppers.

"So, there you are." Enzo's voice was merely a whisper among the howling winds, flapping slowly to the snowy plains in front of you, his body inches from you towering easily over your small frame. You made no noise or voiced your frustration for his words, weakly looking up at him as best as you could.

The blowing winds cast a glow behind his silhouette, watching the Aarakocra bend to kneel in front of you. "Hey," his voice surprised you, a feathered hand on your shoulder, shaking you with almost impatience. "Don't die on me, you hear?"

"Shut up," the words came weakly from you, luring you to sleep, his figure blurring again until you saw three of him, vision dotted. "Enzo..."

"Hush." He wasted no time in collecting you in his arms, cuddling you close to him as he carried you. What shocked you most was how incredibly warm he was, unaffected by the vast cold. You instinctively snuggled closer into his chest, shutting your eyes and shuddering. "Let's get you out of here."

You didn't respond, feeling how there was a surge of air moving around you both, your body growing lighter and head more lightheaded as he flapped his wings, the winds more biting against your exposed face and neck.

The harsh winds or the cold went straight to your head, pulling you in and out of consciousness, wrapped tightly in the arms that allowed you to feel a sense of safety to slip beyond the darkness, to rest your eyes for a moment.

-

There was an aching drive for warmth that slowly spread through you, taking over your body, making you want to drink it in greedily. When your eyes opened once more to a flickering flame, dancing and roaring, filling its beauty in the room. Just opposite you in the small room, knelt Enzo, tending to something he was pouring into a bowl.

"Where are we?" Your voice felt worse with wear, hoarse and not tended to. Enzo flinched, his feathers bright and shimmering against the colour of the flames, making him seem like a risen phoenix, an enigma in your eyes.

In his hands, the bowl was passed to you, his own in hand as he watched you gauge your reaction, before answering, "A cave I found, a few days out from Oakendenn."

"And the others? And Calder-"

"For the love of the Gods, can you for once think about yourself?" His words weren't snappy or aloof, more full of weary and strain. He laughed tiredly. "Honestly, little doctor, do you think before you go out so recklessly?"

Your cheeks rouged at the little nickname, ignoring it for the time being until it would nag the part of your brain for answers. "All in the name of science."

"Yes, well there won't be any science if you're frozen to death." He hesitated momentarily, before slipping a warm blanket around your shoulders, securing it carefully. "You're still a valuable asset."

To who exactly though? You questioned, silently snuggling into the blanket further. There was a strong smell of mint that was strong in your nostrils, pleasant and warm, luring you to tranquillity. It smelt a lot like him somehow, and your heartbeat raced with bashfulness.

You watched from your peripheral, the Aarakocra shuffling to sit beside you properly, his gaze never seeming to leave yours. “You’re doing an awful lot for me, Enzo.” For someone who dislikes me, and I, supposedly too.

But even that seemed like a lie. Enzo scoffed, his laugh light and airy like the frozen air. “Seems to me someone is just enjoying the company.” He shuffled closer to you, awkwardly throwing an arm around you for further comfort. “If you manage to not become a human popsicle, maybe—just maybe, will I show you around my hometown.”

Not only had his soft words thrown you off, but the feeling of his arm around you seemed not to be of great surprise. “What do you mean?” You scrambled for the right words.

“I’ve dealt with a lot of humans in my time, taking them up and down these mountains,” he said. “Not one of them had wildly gone down one of the slopes. You think that can go so smoothly with me and my reputation?”

“Your reputation, huh?” You laughed, spluttering into it when it tickled the back of your throat harshly. Enzo had placed a cup of water on your lips hastily, eyeing you with fake disdain you hoped. “You have a great reputation for the ladies or something?”

“Hmph, if that’s what humans like to think of it, then no.” He snorted, his eyes shifting. In this low, dim light, they seemed to be practically glowing. “Gods, that sounds terrible.”

There was a laugh shared between the two of you for a moment, onlooking the fire soundlessly, an unexpectedly calm atmosphere settling. You sighed, resting against his shoulder, resting your head into the bed of warm feathers, the smell of mint intense. “I’ll take that promise if you’re keeping with it.”

Enzo laughed warmly, shutting his eyes, the body growing slack as he hummed quietly to himself. “That’s good to hear.”

-

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[babbushka]

Will you use these prompts for Flip please?

Kissing in the rain and getting soaked before running inside laughing

Lifting the other person up and hugging them and twirling them around.

Thank you for all the Sinday goodness!

Anonymous said: Basket and nature from the April prompts for Flip please 💛. Maybe for some sexy outdoor picnic or stargazing smut please? I love the hand holding while making love prompt too.

(1k, Young Flip x Darling Jewish Girlfriend, NSFW (public shenanigans/park groping/fingering) 

I never caught stardust that fell from the skies.

I never saw moonlight in anyone's eyes,

Then suddenly love kicks in the window,

Love, knocks down the door.

Love, it sat down and told me,

Lover, what are you waiting for?

It had been a beautiful day, sunny and bright, Spring in the air. The trees are green and rustling in the light breeze, flowers bloom, and Flip’s in love. He’s so in love with you that it makes him sick, and he wants to scream it to the world. He won’t, he’s too quiet to go doing all that – but he’ll do the next best thing; show you off on his arm for all the world to see.

There’s a park not too far from the little home in the suburbs where you live, the small starter cookie cutter home he bought once you graduated from school. It’s not much, just a one bedroom, on a corner lot in the neighborhood where you grew up. One day he’s going to buy you a big house in the mountains, with enough rooms for as many kids as you want, with as much land as he can manage for them to run around on.

But it does have a little park that’s just a few blocks away, and on this beautiful Spring day, he’s practically begging to take you on a stroll there, begging you to hold his hand with the silent bumps he makes as he knocks his knuckles against yours. You get the hint, because dammit you love him desperately, and you never want to untwine your fingers from his, not even when your palms grow clammy.

Hand in hand you walk with your boyfriend through the neighborhood, a picnic basket slung on your free arm, filled to the brim with sandwiches and treats you’ve spent all morning putting together. Flip beams, or well, as much as Flip can beam, he beams. He’s got one corner of his mouth around his cigarette ticked up in a smirk as he swings your hand back and forth, the two of you stepping in time, left foot right foot – until he playfully steps on your heel to make you stumble a little just so he can catch you, earning him a teasing swat against his arm as you sprint into a run with bright laughter, leaving him in the dust.

I never heard bluebirds, the songs that they sing.

I never get crazy, not even in Spring.

Then suddenly love struck me like lightning!

Love, it blew up a storm!

Love, suddenly grabbed me, and ooh, was it cozy and warm.

'Cause I found you, now I no longer just exist,

Ooh, what a change, it started from the time we kissed.

He tackles you when he gets his arms around you, knocking you to the ground with a playful yelp, tickling all over your ribcage and kissing you deeply, his cigarette pinched between your fingers as he sighs against your mouth. The other park-goers just shake their head fondly, the whole neighborhood knowing all about your little love story. The elderly folks feeding their birds on the park benches are a little more exasperated, but they know that Zimmerman is a good egg, and that girl of his loves him and how could anyone blame them for being a little too loud about it?

Flip leads you to a nice shady spot, sets the picnic up while you watch him do all the work. Occasionally you direct him where you want him, pointing where he should put the potato salad and oh there would be a good spot for the sparkling water.

He huffs and says if you’re going to be so picky you can unpack the basket yourself, but he says it with a twinkle in his eye, and then you’re kissing him, sweetly like the bluebirds that chirp in the trees, your lashes brushing against his cheek, his goatee scratching your chin, the two of you far too wrapped up in one another to notice the clouds start to form overhead.

Blue skies hide behind big pillowing blankets of grey, and the temperature starts to drop, but neither of you notice. Flip backs you up against a tree and the leaves protect you from the rain droplets that begin to plip-plop onto the grassy park around you. Everyone begins to clear out, because they have the sense of it all to get out of there before it pours, but you and Flip just kiss and kiss and kiss until you’re gasping against one another’s mouths.

(And now we hear bluebirds), they hear bluebirds,

(We're learning that tune) they like that tune,

(And even use moonlight) all that pretty moonlight

Flip’s hands work quickly, not even bothering to look around and see who might be around. He’s got to touch you, got to get his big hands on your skin, so that’s just what he does. Kissing you and moaning into your mouth, he pushes you flush against the tree trunk and you go happily, your arms winding around his shoulders, letting the breadth of his body cover you and shield you from view.

No one is in the park now, it’s dead empty as the clouds open up and rain cascades down in a sheet all of a sudden, smacking hard against the rain. Flip pays it no mind, you’re both safe and dry there by the big oak tree, and he slips his hand past the cloth of your panties and shoves his fingers up into your cunt, making you gasp and moan against his mouth, body tensing from the pleasure as he strokes your walls, pushes and rubs against your folds, his thumb on your clit.

He’s drunk off the feeling of you, off the way he’s breathing in your panting moans, his head going dizzy and and his breath coming in harsher. You’ve still got one of his hands clasped in yours, a death grip you refuse to give up anytime soon, and it makes his heart pound pound pound in his chest. He’s rock hard in his jeans, and he wonders if he could get away with fucking you out here in the open – before lightning strikes a little too close to where you are, and you both snap to reality.

“Oh shit!” You gasp, rushing out into the rain to try and salvage the picnic, not wanting the food to get soggy and ruined.

Flip races out into the rain with you, and helps quickly put everything back into the wicker basket, embarrassment making him blush blush blush – before the two of you start laughing, and he scoops you up in his arms and twirls you around and around in the rain, water soaking through your clothing.

You dance with him to the sound of music that isn’t playing, or at least out in the open it isn’t. In your heads you and your Flip are at a grand swing hall, and he spins you until you both fall down onto the waterlogged grass of the park, belly aching from how filled with joy you both are.

“We gotta get home!” He shouts at you over the sound of the rain crashing onto the pavement, and then without another thought, you’re grabbing his hand and the picnic basket and running down the sidewalk to that little starter home on the corner lot.

And he goes along, stupid in love, knowing that he’s going to marry you the second he can work up the damn nerve. Because if every day can be like this, if every Spring would start this way, then he finds he doesn’t care at all about splashing in puddles.

(Around about you) Hotdog, them love, it fell outta heaven,

Love, it gave me a shove,

(Ding dong Ding)

I'm a-hearing those

(Church bells ring)

'Cause suddenly

(Love, love, love, love, love.)

Love, love!

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

Taggin’ some Flip lovin’ friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @rennasiance-mama @steeevienicks @the-unmanaged-mischief @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @miabelay11 @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @cowgirl1234 @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen

[fandomsonrequests]

𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓..? [𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 11]

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: prince! park seonghwa

reader: fem! knight

word count: 3.6k+

summary:  It was time for another Selection. No- not a Selection for a bride but rather a well-trained knight to keep Prince Seonghwa safe after a failed assassination attempt. You, a blacksmith’s daughter, manage to make it to the elite group of knights worthy and skilled enough to protect the crown prince after months and months of training. This alone catches Seonghwa’s eyes- in more ways than one

a/n: part 11!! whew- i think its almost halfway? im sorry if the series is taking too long ;^; but thank you to those as well to whoever enjoys this so far! i really appreciate it! <3 

taglist: @iwanttohitmyself​ @minihongjoong @i-purrple-u @taetae123094 @jeonartemis @barcelona-sergei  @theoinkypiglet @sparklychangbin @krystal-cole @mangotexts @tooweirdforyou 

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The skies today were as blue as the crystal seas as fluffy white clouds filled the heavenly bodies. The sun peeks over The Capitol, basking the townsfolk in its bright but warm rays. The city village teemed with life as people went about their business. 

Today was actually a good day. But not for the delegates- today was the day of elimination.

The small dining hall the young delegates ate in was quiet. No one said a word, if they did it was done in tones no louder than a whisper. Only the ear-piercing sound of utensils scraping against the ceramic plate was heard along with the occasional clinking of mugs against the wooden table. 

The atmosphere was thick with tension. Each one of these young people felt as if they were Atlas, bearing the weight of the world on their shoulders. No one and nothing could ease them of the uncertainty on whether who gets to stay or not. Even the cockiest person among you was quiet.

You on the other hand felt as if the weight was doubled. You didn’t know how you would be questioned regarding the chapter you had painstakingly read. You had wasted so many nights and lost so much sleep over that you could only hope you didn’t fail whatever task Hae-seong had in mind. 

Breakfast passed by quickly and you soon found yourself lined up by the courtyard. Haeseong stood in front of you as Byron, and a few other knights, stood by the duke’s left. A rack of training swords was soon rolled in, the inanimate object seemingly taunting you. You knew the final exam was about to take place. 

“Delegates,” Haeseong called out in his annoyingly nasal voice. “Today is the day of elimination. We’ve reviewed your grades from training and academics and unfortunately, half of you are going home.”

A few gasps erupt from around you. You could feel your palms sweat with anxiousness and the fabric of the uniform seemed to itch more. You tighten your hands into a fist, silently praying that you’d pass this first set of eliminations.

“This just proves how incompetent you people are.” Haesong continued to earn a disappointed sigh from the large man beside him. 

“Nevertheless, it didn’t mean you didn’t try your best,” Byron interjected and sent a tiny glare to the duke who brushed it off nonchalantly. “Anyway, as your final exam- you’d be partnered off randomly to duel with the training swords.

“And for safety precautions, we shall be putting each of you in light armor.” 

You tense at that. Though you weren’t helpless when it came to swordsmanship- you weren’t sure if you were good enough either. Nevertheless, you just hoped you’d make it far. You glance to your right to see Siyeon’s lip quivering with nervousness. Your fingers discreetly tangled with hers, receiving a grateful squeeze of your hand in return. You send her a small smile to encourage her. Although she was still tense, she had relaxed a bit and had steadier breathing.

As you were all being suited up for the exam, a few of the royal court had come to watch. Among them were two of Hae-seong’s sons- the eldest who was a couple of years older than you and his youngest son who was only eighteen. You’ve seen them around the castle a few times. The younger, Minjae, was a bit spoiled but respectful nonetheless. He could be a little boisterous but you chalked that off to his teenage hormones. 

The eldest, on the other hand, Beom-seok, was just as nasty as his father or not worse. Not only was he prideful or an elitist, oh no- he had no respect in general. He would eye some of the female delegates like they were pieces of meat and pick on the castle servants when he walked around. What was worse is that whenever no higher-ups in the court were around, he’d strut along the palace as if he owned the place. He was disgusting but not many seemed to care because of his charming looks and stature in life. He had a strong jaw, a sharp nose, and fierce eyes. But his aura was just so repulsive not many really stayed friends with him. 

You saw him whisper to his brother as he glanced over at all of you. The pair snickered but the younger seemed to do so just to get his brother to shut up. Beom-seok must have been spewing some hateful stuff again so you chose to ignore him. Instead, you glance up the large window of the palace in the middle of the courtyard, hoping to see the prince. 

Seonghwa managed to plague your thoughts often ever since he had met you. He was just so different than you imagined- you didn’t think you’d grow fond of him in the way you do with your friends. You hoped that you do succeed in becoming his bodyguard because that way, you could still maintain your friendship with him.

As your gaze lands on the window, you see the prince looking down at all of you with interest. But beside him was Lady Ayeong, looking as ethereal as ever. A gentle yet curious smile was settled on her delicate lips as she surveyed over all of you. You found it hard to believe that an angel like her was the daughter of the devil. 

Seonghwa’s eyes meet yours and he sends you a subtle wink. You roll your eyes in amusement but nodded your head at him before focusing your attention on the knight in front of you to start donning the armor for the final exams. 

“Is it really this serious that light armor is needed?” Ayeong asks Seonghwa, looking up at him with a concerned glint in her eye. 

The prince merely nodded but gave her a reassuring smile in return. “Don’t worry. No one gets seriously injured during these. It may hurt but nothing that could kill.” 

Once you were all settled with the armor and the weapons, you were all ushered to the side as Byron called out two people’s names to duel. One was Julian- a city dweller with a flamboyant personality. His bouncy auburn hair glinted under the afternoon sun as he strolled up to the middle. His confidence was outstanding, it was his biggest asset. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be his biggest downfall either. 

The other was Gahyeon. You and Siyeon, as well as other folks from Trelark, sent her silent cheers. You all watched as both delegates took their positions across each other, arms raised and weapons held firmly in their hands. 

This was it.

Everyone watched earnestly as Gahyeon struck first, clashing her sword against Julian’s. The sound of wood on wood was heard throughout the courtyard. Several cries rang out and the nasty sound of splinters cracking soon joined in. 

By the end of the first duel, Gahyeon ended up with her back flat against the cobble and the wooden sword pressed to her chin. Julian was panting heavily and looked like he could collapse at any moment. Gahyeon proved that if she was going down, she was going to do so with a fight. 

Hae-seong says nothing, just dismissing the two and making them return to their spots in the line. “Julian wills the duel!” Byron announces before calling up the next two. 

Several more pairs came up. Some of the cockiest delegates had karma coming and lost the duel. Others surprised you like the quiet girl, Ursula, from the farming village in the South. She generally kept out of everyone’s business and was shorter than the average woman your age but she was quick on her feet and managed to take down her much bigger opponent pretty quickly. 

You were still marveling over Ursula’s assassin-like skill when Byron called your name. You snap out of your thoughts and head over to the middle where your opponent was already waiting. It was one of the bigger boys from the mining villages. You gulp nervously as you take your training sword from Byron and face your partner. 

You could feel your palms clam up and your heartbeat rapidly against your chest. The two of you assumed duel stances, swords in hand, waiting patiently for the signal to start. By this time, more of the royal court had come out to watch. You saw two young men that often accompanied Seonghwa stand off to the side. Maybe they were his friends but their presence just added some pressure to you. 

You inhale deeply and let out a shaky sigh right before Byron gives the signal. You make the first move, dispelling all your nerves with a short yell and bringing down your sword against your opponent’s. You managed to catch him off guard as he stumbled with his weapon, clearly not anticipating your strength. 

And for a short moment, you felt a bout of victory— that was until he pulled back his sword and swung at you. You stepped off to the side and blocked his blow, the force of the impact shot up your arms and to your shoulders. It was a rather harsh one, leaving you to grit your teeth to keep them from chattering. 

You step back when he swings at you again and you retaliate by blocking it off and swiftly following up with a slash near his middle. He narrowly avoids your move, hopping backward to do so. Your movements came right after the other, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You could practically hear your heartbeat thrum in your ears. Dust kicks up around you as you advance towards him, giving him blow after blow. Your opponent was left to defend rather than attack, his bigger stature causing himself to slow down at your faster movements. 

You felt confident that you’d win this duel. That is until Hae-seong calls out your name and distracts you. Your foot hooks against your ankle as you mean to step forward, causing you to trip. Your opponent takes this moment to swing his sword at your foot, making you fall onto your front. Several gasps were heard around you along with a ferocious cry. You look up to see your opponent actually bring down his sword against you. 

Luckily, you manage to roll away in time and the training sword lands against the spot you were on. “Are you crazy??” You exclaim. That blow could’ve killed you. You stumble back onto your feet, now weaponless as your sword had fallen out of your grip when you tripped. Your opponent takes a moment to kick away your sword and advance towards you.

You dodge another swing from him, shifting your feet to help you avoid him. “Aren’t you going to stop him?” You ask Byron and Hae-seong. The former remains silent but there’s a glint of sympathy in his eyes. The nobleman on the other hand simply grinned and shrugged.

“This is part of your test, _____. Remember the book I made you memorize? Well, I decided to quiz you— right now. I want to see how focused you really are.” He sneers. His eldest son laughs at his father’s words, making your blood boil. 

You eye your sword that was only a few steps away. Your opponent wasn’t an idiot— he knew what you were trying to do; he was doing everything to keep you from getting it back. But you were determined and stubborn as a mule. 

“First question, ______,” Hae-seong calls out as you step to the side and dodge another hit. “Name all seven kingdoms and what each are known for,” 

“The Nessa Empire: the kingdom near the sea,” You start out, trying your best to focus on the man in front of you while answering correctly. “Our kingdom of Sarem: the kingdom of the earth; the Kingdom of Velaris..” You continue on with the list and successfully manage to answer his questions.

This goes on— Hae-seong throwing question after question at you while you respond correctly- much to the duke’s annoyance. Of course, you would stumble every now and then, fatigue slowly creeping up on you, but you push through it. And finally, you see an opening. 

Your sword lay a couple of steps away and your opponent was far enough for you to reach over and grab it. You briefly glance over to the weapon and keep your gaze trained ahead of you. You patiently wait for Hae-seong to ask you another question, slowly inching towards your sword.

“Final question,” The nobleman huffed, trying to get you to mess up. “Sarem takes pride in our trade in grains and precious stones; true or false?” 

You almost answered “true” but you remembered what the prince had said the first night you met. 

“Don’t believe everything that book says— especially the part about how our kingdom trade works. It says something about grain or stones but that section is terribly inaccurate.”

You thought it was nasty on Hae-seong’s part to pull that trick out on you but you didn’t pay any attention to that. 

“False!” You answered just as your opponent was about to bring his sword down on you.  You rushed to pick up your own and swing it up to block his strike. This caught him off guard, allowing you to kick your foot out under him and make him lose balance. He falls flat against his back and you scramble to kick his own weapon away, pointing your sword against his throat. 

Byron takes this as a chance to end the duel seeing as both of you were tired. Your turn went longer than anticipated. “_____ wins this duel.” He announces, earning a few applause from the bystanders. 

You almost collapse to the ground in relief as victory floods your system. Thank the heavens. You helped your opponent up and gave him a bow of your head to which he responded in kind. You were still pretty banged and up and bruised since he got more hits in but it was all worth it to be able to make it past this final exam and to see the annoyance on Hae-seong’s face. 

It was obvious he hoped you would mess up but at least he knew to give credit when it’s due, even if it hurt his pride. He turned his pointy nose up and waved the two of you away to return to your spots and allow other delegates to go. “Moving on—“

You plop down onto your original spot, Siyeon shaking your shoulder excitedly. “You killed it!” She cheers quietly, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m so proud of you, Yellow.” 

“Thanks, Wolfie.” You reply, giving her hand a squeeze. 

You tear your gaze away from your friend and up to the window to where Seonghwa and Ayeong were watching. From your spot on the ground, it was clear that he had the brightest smile on his face.

“Her fighting spirit is commendable,” Ayeong praises, referring to you. She turns to her husband to be with a curious tilt of her head. “Don’t you think so?”

The prince felt his chest swell his pride, a warm feeling running through his veins. Though you two had met recently, he felt as if he was your friend for his whole life. He couldn’t help but feel proud of what you had achieved today. He nods in response to his companion. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The final dueling exams ended late into the afternoon. It felt exhausting to watch and go through- after all there were 20 pairs that had to go through this. Despite that- tensions were still high as everyone anxiously waited for their results. 

Some looked hopeful while others remained dejected. It was clear to some that they were convinced that they would be eliminated; regrets of not trying hard enough during the first few days due to their reluctance flooded their thoughts. Only hushed whispers and silent sobs were heard through the courtyard as everyone let their frustrations out.

Amihan scoots over to you as she clutches her splinted hand to her chest; she had fallen down during her duel causing her wrist to be sprained. Her face had dejection written all over it; it was far from her usually laid back look. Raviv follows behind her like a concerned mother hen, brows furrowed. 

“I think I’m going to be sent home,” She admits quietly to your group, eyes glazed over with tears that were threatening to fall. Both you and Siyeon immediately move to comfort her, taking her hands in yours. “I should’ve tried harder,” 

“Ami, you did your best. That’s what’s important,” Siyeon says as she comforts the older girl. “You’re such a fierce fighter Amihan. Maybe you’d pass.”

You nod in response as you offer your friend a comforting smile. “Just shout it out to the world and think of it, it's sure to happen.” 

Amihan only shrugged in response but thanked both of you nonetheless. She sat back on her heels and sighed, looking down to her palms. “Thank you for comforting me… but think it’s useless either way. I’m injured so I can’t go on with training.”

“Maybe they’ll excuse you,” Raviv interjects and settles a hand over her shoulder. “Please don’t be so down on yourself, Ami..”

Before any of you can say anything more, the duke clears his throat and catches all of your attention. He had a roll of parchment in his hand, most likely containing the list of all delegates who made it past the first half of elimination. Right now, there were fifty of you, twenty females and thirty males. All that could change after tonight. 

“I shall now be announcing the delegates who passed.”

Tension rises and a pregnant silence fills the atmosphere. It was absolutely suffocating. You could feel your heart beat erratically against your chest as you laced your fingers with both Siyeon’s and Amihan’s hands. You didn’t want to go home— not when you were this far. The weight of the pendant your father gave you seemed heavy against your chest, a constant reminder of why you were here in the first place. 

“Abel,” Hae-seong started listing out. One by one, a name was called followed by a deep sigh of relief. Stifled tears and quiet sobs were soon heard when the duke failed to call their name. 

One of those unfortunate ones was Amihan. When Duke Hae-seong continued on with the list, the names now starting with B, your heart fell. You look over to your friend who had a resigned yet accepting look in her eyes. You couldn’t believe it. Your friend was no longer going to be with you. 

“Ami..” You mutter quietly, chest heavy with grief. She only smiles at you, cupping your cheek and brushing away a hair that stuck to your face.

I’ll be okay. She whispers to you before doing the same for both Raviv and Siyeon. You felt numb. It was such a short time since you’ve known her but you’ve created a deep bond with her since your stay— it would be hard to see her go. 

The names went on and luckily, you, Siyeon, and Raviv was still safe. For a moment your solemn thoughts turned into relief. At least you were safe, you were still in the game. You still had the chance to win this thing. 

“That’s all, you are now dismissed. You may return to your rooms. To those who were eliminated, we thank you for trying your best,” Hae-seong drawls out, oddly chipper. Maybe he was just glad that he didn’t have to deal with any more “brats.” “A carriage awaits you tomorrow morning so I suggest you start packing up.”

Usually, the walk to the rooms would be lively and full of playful banter. Now it was just glum and filled with frustrated cries. Whispers of comfort floated through the air as the group parted ways to head to their respective rooms. But before Raviv could part with the rest of you, he walks over to Amihan and gives her a tight embrace. They exchange a few words, only whispered between the two of them, before separating ways. 

You and Siyeon were on either side of Amihan’s side as you walked down the hall, trying to make the most of your last moments with her. Your friend had long stopped crying, her tears turning down to sniffles. She was quick to accept her fate. 

“Well, at least I got to live in a palace for 2 and a half months.” She jokes in hopes to lighten the mood. “Even though it was a short period of time, I’m glad I was able to make friends with you two…”

She turns to both of you, pulling you to the side to allow others to enter the room without blocking the way. “I’ll miss you both.. better write to me or else I’m coming back here to hunt your asses down.” 

She managed to pull some laughs out of you and Siyeon before bringing you into a group hug. It was a bittersweet moment and none of you could stop the tears from falling. It was kind of cathartic to be able to cry after a long while, even if they were grieving their separation from each other. It was Amihan once again who pulled herself together and straightened up. 

“I hope one of you wins. And I know one of you will.” She says with such conviction in her voice it was hard to not believe her. 

As you help her keep her things for her leave tomorrow, you couldn’t help but allow this moment to fuel something within you. You had another person to fight for, and that’s exactly what you needed. If things were hard now, they were surely going to get harder. 

[seaswalllow]

hey nerds, surprise is here! this is a sort of... what-if exploration of what quackity could've possibly told technoblade in order to get him on his side for the red banquet. enjoy; and remember, comments and rbs feed the author :P

--

a man with a coin and a smile steps through a whirling portal. vertigo, as familiar as it is painful, grips him down to his bones; he grits his teeth against it and keeps his eyes open, for he has a job to do, and it is a dangerous job indeed.

and many, many blocks away, another man brushes the snow off of the hide of his horse, unaware yet of his visitor.

--

Technoblade would've liked to say that he heard the crunching of the snow first. That some prickling on the back of his neck had warned him about his unwelcome guest.

As it stood, exactly none of this had happened. What happens instead is this: chat starts whispering, starts hissing until it resembles a storm more than itself, he straightens up by carl to turn around, hand on his axe, and Quackity says "Hello, Technoblade."

His axe is at Quackity's throat before the man can even get his next few words out. He scans the landscape, eyes narrowed. There's not many places to hide out, here, on snowy plains as far as the eye can see- but he was proven wrong once.

He doesn't have the luxury of being proven wrong again.

trap? trap? why is he here fucking stupid be careful look out

It's funny, how often they end up in these situations.

And by funny, he means that he would like for it to stop.

"Who else is with you," he demands. The edge of the axe glitters, pressing a thin red line into Quackity's neck. Quackity, who doesn't look panicked, or frazzled, only calm, calm, calm.

That worries him more.

If they were annoyances while desperate- confident men can be foolish men. And Quackity has been a fool before. But if they were to execute him while desperate- then they've had time to stuff their sleeves with plenty other tricks now.

"I came alone," Quackity shrugs. He's careful to keep his hands where techno can see them, Techno notes.

alone why that's so stupid lying why

Chat slowly, slowly quiets; moreso out of curiosity than any real appeasement as they swarm Quackity, wolves flocking to a sheep.

"You're welcome to check the perimeters. or keep this axe up. I don't blame you after..." after he was hunted down in his own house in a mockery of justice? Techno is sure that Quackity sees the displeasure that pulls his lips back, baring his tusks further.

Still, his voice remains level.

"I know how this looks," Quackity agrees, and that pulls another narrow-eyed look out of Techno.

"After taking me back to be executed? I'm glad that at the bare minimum, you don't blame me for what I'd say is... oh, reasonable caution."

"Then why'd you come here? Some would say that's plain stupid. Walking into your enemy's house like a sitting duck."

technofunny technolame haha sitting duck lmao L L L

Quackity, to his credit, smiles. Or some fascimile of it, at least. It bares his teeth, gold winking in the weak winter sun, leaves him jovial-looking enough, but it never reaches his eyes.

"Clever. I came here because I have a proposition."

Techno exhales. Lowers his axe.

He's not doing this again.

"No."

"I haven't even asked yet," Quackity hums, and Techno arches an eyebrow. The axe is hoisted over his shoulder, and he makes sure the light catches the worn enchantments. A warning.

"And i said no. Whatever it is, I'm not interested. You've got some nerve, coming here with a proposition."

Chat, like the swarm of traitors that they are, though, stills. He can't make out a single word above the murmured buzz, but he doesn't like how thoughtful it sounds.

"Have you heard of the Eggpire?"

This... stops him in his tracks. Quackity hasn't taken his eyes off of him. (Smart, Techno thinks. Watch the biggest threat. Negated by the fact that you sought him out.)

He neither confirms nor denies, and instead continues watching Quackity, who takes it as a cue to continue.

"It's a rather large group that's started amassing around some fucking parasite. They've expressed interest in... recruiting. I'm sure you remember this."

Hard to forget, he nearly says, but he's not exposing his neck any more than he already has by staying and listening. (He's not showing that he remembers tossing pearls, tridents down to the kid stuck by the egg, that he remembers the egg itself hissing gently in his ears and pulling at Ranboo.)

"And I thought that well... if there's ever a reason to come here, it'd be for common enemies. You, an anarchist with some... personal investment. Me, with personal investment and a concern for the people."

crimson. disgusting. hate it. false god rotting god tear it up and watch it burn

Chat, shut up.

He snorts before he can stop himself. "Concern for the people. Don't make me laugh."

Quackity tilts his head, eyes narrowed. He looks about as serious as Techno's ever seen him on this visit, jovial facade wearing away. (He looks like he did the day that he brought the Butcher Army to his doorstep, flint in his eyes and axe in hand. It's funny how some things just don't change.)

"I had friends, Techno. Good friends who the Crimson has taken, and warped until they're unrecognizable, and wouldn't recognize themselves in the mirror. I have had other friends suffer at their hands. Starvation's not a pretty sight in close quarters, especially when the thing encourages you to take to yourself, so to speak. Yes, concern for the people."

Techno looks at him for a solid minute; long enough for something to strain at the corners of Quackity's eyes. That's fine; Techno couldn't give a damn.

"Tell me what you want first, and why."

Something slips off of quackity's shoulders. He digs his hand into his pocket; Techno tenses, but Quackity's simply pulled out a coin with a smiley face on it, rolling it over his knuckles and under his hand.

"They're holding a banquet in a few days' time. They've invited... quite a few people. The entire server, if I remember right. They said it's to turn over a new leaf, but... they're also holding it right down by the egg."

The coin has stopped flipping. The smiley face lies face down, leaving the crown side up, sunlight reflecting off of it. Quackity leans closer, voice dipping. Paranoid, ever paranoid.

"I want to crash this fucking thing, and clean up the egg mess once and for all. Eliminate the threat."

Techno shifts his weight, hooves sinking deeper into the frozen layer of snow atop the fields. Chat, oddly, has fallen silent. All that they hear around them are the bees working gently to the side of Techno, and the foxes yipping behind them.

"So you want to use me as a weapon. Again."

"Purpled? So you're saying there's other people involved."

"As a partner," Quackity corrects. "I'll scout the area for you, give you all of the logistics; let you know what timing we need to worry about. You'll be compensated for your assistance, obviously, too- just like Purpled. As a valued business partner."

Business folks. All the same, sweet words that bely the fact they'll leave you out to bleed dry.

this is weird egg egg fight egg crimson

"You and Purpled are the only ones I've approached. Purpled's already accepted."

Techno taps his fingers against the handle of the axe. Not once has Quackity broken eye contact- he leans back now.

"And if I say no?"

quackity shrugs. "Oh, you can say no! This is by no means meant to pressure you. I just figured- as an anarchist, you'd jump at the chance to take down an empire." He pauses. "Especially because this empire is known for being... persistent in their recruitment and expansion. They went for Ranboo once- who knows who else they'll go for?"

The implication does not go unnoticed. Techno bristles; chat bristles. Quackity raises his hands slowly. He still hasn't stepped back, even with the axe in front of him.

"I'm not threatening them. I'm just saying- the Eggpire is a threat. The Red Banquet will make them a bigger threat, but it's also the best time to shoot them in the knees."

Techno inhales. Exhales.

fight the crimson fight fight money free party free food

God, chat was annoying today.

"Time, place, and payment."

Quackity doesn't smile. He does nod, however, the sunlight winking off of the gold in his teeth.

"You won't regret this."

"I'll be the judge of that."

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part twenty) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±7600 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part twenty: It’s auction time! Two horses of the Gold Canyon Ranch are up for sale. Will they get the price they are hoping for? Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music:  Sold - John Michael Montgomery (Auction scene), Save A Horse - Big & Rich (Jo & Y/N dancing scene), Good Time - Alan Jackson (Dean & Y/N dancing scene), In Case You Didn’t Know - Brett Young (Final scene). Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Prepare for cuteness and a bit of angst! Thank you @kittenofdoomage​, @manawhaat​ and @winchest09​ for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999​, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “Sold! For 3750 dollars to number 48!”

     The auctioneer slams the gavel down on the block, sealing the deal. A sigh of relief falls from Dean and Jo’s lips, who are leaning over the high fence at the auction pen. Almost four grand for an unbroken two year old Mustang is more than a fair price these days. The average numbers have been decent so far, especially considering the current economic depression that is weighing down on the country.  

     Benny leads the young horse out of the arena, him and Dean exchanging a nod, accompanied with a smile. The Gold Canyon Ranch crew is playing it cool, but all are well aware how desperately the cash is needed. It’s not something the whole circuit needs to know, however. Much like any business where money is involved, there are always those who are eager for an opportunity to profit off the loss of others. There are plenty of vultures circling the skies above their potential prey, waiting to take advantage. Dean will not let that happen.

     A new horse is brought in and the auctioneer starts rambling again, announcing prices while assistants scan the crowd for bidders. It’s a vibrant ambience, most people here to make deals, others to have fun. Upbeat country music rallies on the buyers who watch one animal after another come into the pen, judging their conformation, gait and looks before they raise their sign into the air to announce their bid. The small indoor arena is more crowded than one would expect after the market collapsed earlier this year. He notices that Y/N is experiencing some difficulty getting through the mass of people, trying to push past people while transporting three huge burgers.

     “Sorry, got held up, there was a line,” she excuses, handing the fast food to the wranglers.      “You didn’t have to do that, Yank,” Dean returns, taking the large burger in his hand nonetheless.      “Yes, I did. You haven’t eaten, yet. Dig in,” she returns.      Grinning, he moves the welcoming food to his mouth to take a bite. Once again she surprises him with her care and observations. Nothing goes past her, especially when it comes to his well-being.

     Y/N glances at the large display on the back wall where the sold horses are listed. She thought the biddings stalled just under 4000 dollars and the numbers on the screen confirm it. “The price for the Mustang wasn’t bad, was it?”      “Not at all. Dad still has to pay ten percent commission, but he’s gonna be satisfied with almost three and a half grand,” Jo agrees. “If that Pinto sells for good money, you might wanna break it to him that you two are the new Sonny & Cher, before he catches you two lovebirds red-handed.”      With his mouth full, Dean chuckles at the blonde Cowgirl’s remark, which she paired with a perked eyebrow. He lets his free hand slip around his girlfriend’s waist, gently pulling her closer.      “I’ll tell him when we get back on Monday, promise,” he announces, more to Y/N than to Jo. “He’s too busy doin’ business now anyways.”

     Y/N smiles at the assurance, leaning into him. She’s glad Dean is so comfortable with her by his side in the presence of others, but just as important, she’s glad Jo has realized Dean isn’t just fooling around. Her friend has always supported her, but it took her a second to believe her cousin’s intentions are, in fact, good. Her skepticism wasn’t random; she has seen plenty of tears fall for the ladykiller. But those days are in the past now.      “What time is the second horse going up for auction?” Y/N wonders.      Dean checks his watch and glances at the horse currently in the pen, who is carrying a tag with ‘204’ on it. “He’s number 211, so he should be up in twenty minutes or so.”      “Think Benny will manage?” Jo checks.      “Yeah, he has plenty of time to switch them. Let him make himself useful, he’s not riding any horses this weekend anyway,” the head wrangler grins.

     The crew members finish their quick meal, the three of them now leaning over the fence while watching the exciting auction. The burgers are delicious, fresh off the grill from one of the many food stands, topped with cheddar and crispy bacon. Quality greasy event garbage, but Y/N wouldn’t want it any other way. Usually she tries to eat healthy, keep her body nourished for  the hard physical labor she puts into her work. During shows, however, she always lets go. She knows that she can’t swallow a bite before her runs, not with the nerves always closing off her throat and having her stomach in knots. But staring down at the big, juicy burger in her hands, she just dives in; figures it’s better to stash up on carbs before her big day than to fall short.

     Twenty minutes later, Benny leads the Pinto into the auction pen. The horse looks magnificent, his white patches washed clean and the fur that’s black shining under the limelight. His mane, detangled and brushed, cascades down his well formed neck, reaching his shoulders. The stallion is stunning, getting a reaction from the audience.

     “Alright, y’all, this is quite the looker we got here. We present this two year old Pinto stallion, owned by the Gold Canyon Ranch. A tall fella which stands at sixteen hands, strong enough to carry a big Cowboy around the competition arena. Sired by Cash Button, well-known APHA champion producer. As you can see he’s haltered, but unbroken, so if you’re lookin’ for a fine show horse to start fresh with, this is the one for you.”

     Dean is glad to hear that the auctioneer does a good job promoting their horses. The speaker can make or break an auction, so he’s thankful the organization hired a skilled one.

     Somewhat nervous, Dean sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble as he takes in the traders on the bleachers. Jody managed to buy Sundance, despite the huge interest in the mare. She paid a whopping fifteen grand for the talented barrel racer, who stayed at the top of the rank and scored Jo the first win of the competition. Now that the Mustang switched owners for a reasonable price as well, a big stack of cash for the Pinto would really bring the ranch back in the clear… for now. Dean is aware that it will take more than one good day to nurse the company back to financial health again, but it would be a good start.

     “Opening bid is 2500 dollars, so let’s get this bid started, people. 2500, 2500 for the gentleman on the front row. Can I get a 3000?”

     The auctioneer begins his bid calling, the rhythmic repetition of numbers and words adding to the tensed atmosphere. It’s a fast chant that engages the crowd and brings a sense of urgency on the possible buyers. But no matter how hard the speaker tries, the biddings slow once they near three grand, nowhere near the number they hoped the stallion would sell for.

     “Last chance to become the new owner of this stunning future prospect, folks. 3500 dollars now, will you give me 3750? Going once…”

     “C’mon, c’mon,” Dean mutters, drumming his thumb on the wooden fence.      Y/N watches the mass of people, but she can’t see any new signs popping up. It couldn’t possibly be that the Pinto will go for less than the Mustang, even though he’s worth more?      “Did Bobby arrange a reserve?” she checks with Jo.      Her friend shakes her head, glancing at her with worried eyes.      Y/N now shifts her attention to her other side, taking in the head wrangler, noticing the frown edged on his forehead under the brim of his hat. He’s radiating tension, much like Jo, all three keeping their eyes on the $ 3500,- on the screen. It’s not enough, but it might be the amount they will have to settle for.

     “Going twice…”

     “Four thousand!”      All three perk up, trying to make out where the bid originated from. The distinctive voice is easily recognizable though, the woman’s strong accent hard to miss; it’s Donna.      “Four grand, ladies and gents! Do we have another bidder? 4250 dollars, 4250 anyone?”

     Out of nowhere, another number is raised into the air, one of the assistants pointing at the bidder and shouting back a ‘yup!’ at the auctioneer.

     “We’ve got 4250 dollars now, 4250. Can I get a 4500?”      “Five!” Donna calls out.      “Five grand! Do we have 5500?”

     And there you have it, a bidding war. Dean exchanges a look with Jo, who smiles as the bids keep going back and forth like a tennis match, the stakes taken higher every time the ball is bounced back. Y/N watches in anticipation, getting more excited every time the amount that is about to be paid for the Pinto grows larger.

     “Seven and a half grand. 7500,- dollars. Is bidder number 24 gonna raise? You tell me, young lady. For 7750 dollars this gorgeous stallion can be yours. What do you say? 7500 dollars, going once...”

     The rancher with Minnesota roots seems to hesitate, discussing her next move with Jody, who’s seated next to her on the bleachers. After a few nerve-wrecking seconds, Donna keeps her sign down; they can’t go higher, but she took it high enough to make this a successful auction for Bobby Singer.

     “Going twice… Sold! To lucky number 7 for 7500 dollars!”

     The audience applauds the entertaining battle, Benny making a little fist, modestly celebrating the good sale as he walks the horse out of the pen. All the members of the Gold Canyon Ranch family know it; this is a much needed win.

     Unable to contain her elation, Y/N reaches for Dean’s hand, entwining her fingers with his. It draws his attention and he glances aside at her, his green irises full of delight. The worry has dissolved from his eyes, the weariness gone for a moment. Today is a good day; they can let their guard down for a little while.

     “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but with three horses sold and Jo winning the barrel race, I believe we have reason to celebrate!” Y/N says cheerily, looking between Dean and her best friend.      “Hell to the yeah! I think I deserve a drink,” Jo agrees victoriously.      “Come on then.” Y/N grips Dean’s hand tighter, nudging him to follow. “Let’s hit the bar.”

     “Does everyone have a drink?” Y/N checks, looking around to make sure everyone has either a glass or a beer bottle in hand.

     The Gold Canyon Ranch crew is standing around a barrel that serves as a high table, accompanied by Donna and Jody. A live band, consisting of a drummer, a banjo player and a singer who also plays an acoustic guitar, treats the attending guests to a great show. Strings of lightbulbs are connecting the steel frame that keeps the high tent up, its canvas lit with alternating colored spots. The bartenders have to kick it up a gear to keep up with the demand, people waiting to place their order on all sides of the horseshoe-shaped counter. Riders, trainers, horse owners and spectators are laughing, dancing and having a good old time. Nothing today would suspect that business isn’t as usual.

     Dean enjoys the carefree feeling and raises his bottle, joined by his workers and his boss. Even the grumpy old man lifts his IPA into the air, a sparkle back in his uncle’s eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while.      “Alright, y’all. Let’s congratulate Jody Mills here with the purchase of a future champion. Glad to do business with you as always,” he starts, giving the short haired ranch owner a nod, “and of course we raise our drinks to my Joanna for the win.” He throws his daughter a subtle but proud smile, before he turns to the rest of the crew. “Thank y’all for pitchin’ in and for all the hard work.”      “To the Gold Canyon Ranch,” Benny adds, clinking his glass against those of his colleagues and friends, who repeat his words with a cheer.

     Being on the opposite side of the table, Dean takes the opportunity to move his hand to the small of his girlfriend’s back, letting it rest on her hip, knowing Bobby won’t be able to spot it. He presses his fingertips into the denim, meeting her gaze as he takes a good swig of his drink.

     It doesn’t take long before his uncle is dragged away from the fun by a horse trader, without a doubt stealing his time to negotiate about other horses Bobby plans to sell. As Dean predicted, he will be too busy mingling and so Y/N is delighted when her boyfriend leaves an affectionate kiss on her temple. She closes her eyes and smiles at the sweet gesture, counting her blessings. With every touch, every look, the nervousness dissolves a little further.

     When she entered the tent earlier, she felt her heartbeat quicken and her mouth running dry. She’s well aware Dean is easy on the eyes, because she has caught herself getting lost in the image of him more times than she can count, but now it wasn’t just her who noticed his looks. The handsome cowboy made plenty of heads turn, a few women greeting him with a flirtatious ‘Hey, Dean’ as the group passed through the crowd to find a spot. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, her boyfriend’s reply to them stinging sharply in the pit of her stomach, even though he was only trying to be polite. It’s not just jealousy that has her lose grip. It’s worry, because she feels intimidated by all the girls that seem to throw themselves at the wrangler. They are all beautiful, stunning looking women, vibrant and confident. More beautiful than me, the insecure voice in the back of her mind once again reminds her.

     He noticed the uneasiness, able to read her body language better each day, and he tried to reassure her the best he could with Bobby still being in their presence. Now that the owner of the Gold Canyon Ranch has moved away to do business, she’s glad Dean instantly rose to the occasion to pull her closer and let her know who he belongs to.

     “Want another drink?” Dean asks, not just his girlfriend, but the other people in his company as well while he takes the ranch’s credit card from his wallet.      Y/N notices the slight hint of hesitation in Jo’s expression before she answers, and she reckons it has something to do with the ridiculous prices on the venue, a beer being seven dollars. Four bucks might not sound like much, but when you start buying rounds, the money to be paid at the bar adds up. That card already got declined once today, and both she and Jo  don’t want Dean to deal with the same embarrassment the youngest Singer had to go through at the show office earlier.      “This round’s on me,” Y/N decides, digging up her own card from her back pocket.      “You don’t have to do that,” he objects under his breath, trying not to let his pride slip through.      “I’ll be glad to,” she counters quickly, not taking no for an answer, turning to the others. “Another beer? Jody? Donna? Glass of wine?”      Eagerly, Jo and Benny look up, completely in sync with the two women who they share the table with, all nodding at the offer, all nodding at the offer.

     “At least let me pick up the drinks then?” Dean offers before she gets up from her seat, not too keen of his girlfriend paying for him, but knowing that determined look in her eyes well enough to not go against her.      She agrees on the compromise with a sigh and gives him her card. “Three beers, two white wines and a coke for me.”      “No margarita?” he checks.      “No, sticking to the one. I have a ride to win tomorrow,” she explains, adding a smug smile.      Dean chuckles at that before he turns around, heading for the bar.

     Y/N takes a second to watch him walk away, wondering if she did the right thing. She doesn’t want him or the ranch to pay now that she knows they are low on money while she has plenty, but Dean seemed bothered. She gets it, the man is supposed to pay for the drinks, but this is the twenty-first century; she is just as entitled to pick up the bill as he is.

     “Y’know, you don’t have to keep savin’ us,” Jo comments, making sure that Donna and Jody, who are having a laugh with Benny, can’t pick up on the conversation.      “It’s okay, Jo,” Y/N assures. “It’s the least I can do. I don’t mind at all.”      “I know you don’t, but he might.” She nods at her cousin. “It’s a guy thing. My Dad’s the same way, you should have heard him when he found out you paid the fees because his card didn’t work. Old fashioned country boys seem to think the weight of the world is theirs to carry.”      The intern sniggers, hiding her concern. “Well, those country boys need to learn that us girls can take on that weight just fine.”

     She glances to the bar again, expecting her boyfriend to return with a tray of drinks, but when people move away and no longer obstruct her view, her breathing hitches. Y/N spots Dean casually leaning on the counter with his elbow, talking to a girl. The young woman is all smiles, raking her fingers through her wavy, blonde locks, the light above the bar shining down and highlighting the chemistry. She looks stunning; slim figure, long legs wrapped in torn jeans, exposing skin of her knees and thighs. When she leans forward while laughing at something he said, her cleavage is on display.

     As  the color drains from Y/N’s cheeks, Jo follows her friend’s fixated stare, her face falling when she notices the two by the bar. Dean doesn’t cross a line by any means, but it’s clear that the woman who took an interest in the head wrangler has every intention to persuade him.      “Who is she? You know her?” Y/N asks, the questions rapid and laced with worry.      “Yeah, that’s Jamie Sward,” Jo states.      “Please tell me it’s not one of his exes?” She rips her eyes away from the painful sight, shielding her face in embarrassment.      “‘Ex’ wouldn’t be the right word, but yeah, they did have an on and off thing in the past,” Jo admits carefully, not wanting to lie to her. “Sis, it’s fine. He’s an idiot, but he’s not that much of an idiot. They are  probably just talking.”      “Her breasts are hanging out of her shirt!” Y/N hisses frustrated, blood rushing to her face now, a contrast to her pale skin tone mere seconds ago.

     “So…” Jamie says, taking a sip from her drink while looking over her glass at the handsome wrangler. “What are you up to these days? Still working at Gold Canyon?”      “Yeah, kinda became furniture of the place. Don’t think I’ll ever leave to be honest,” he chuckles, watching the bartender preparing the drinks he ordered. “What about you?”      “Oh y’know, worked a few bars in Phoenix to pay for college, sulked over the fact that you stopped calling me,” the beautiful blonde returns, the smirk that accompanies her perked eyebrow telling him that she’s not too broken up about it.

     “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” he rubs the back of his neck, well aware that he ignored her messages the past month and a half.      “Don’t sweat it. We weren’t dating. Just having fun, right?” Jamie shrugs casually, setting down her drink again. “Talking about fun, I have a room at Days Inn if you’re interested.”

     The offer hangs in the air and it’s only now that Dean realizes he’s on thin ice here. When the blonde cowgirl approached him, somehow it didn’t dawn on him where the conversation was heading towards, simply because he’s not interested in her in the slightest. Ever since he met Y/N, he can’t bring himself to give a damn about any other woman, and Jamie is no exception.

     “I’m uh - I’m gonna have to say ‘no’,” he says, almost apologetic, not wanting to hurt her feelings, because she is a sweet girl. “Doesn’t have anything to do with you. I met someone and things have been really great--”      “Wait. Are you taken?” she interrupts, astonished. “Are you serious? You’re in a relationship?”      He nods, unable to stop a beaming smirk from showing. “Yeah. She’s awesome. I don’t get why everyone acts so surprised, though.”      “C’mon, Dean Winchester. With your reputation?” Jamie snorts. “But hey, no hard feelings. I’m happy for you.”

     She means it, he can tell. He gives her an appreciative nod as the bartender sets the last two beers on the carton tray, which Dean picks up from the bar.      “Right, I’m gonna get back to my girl. Good to see ya again, James,” he says before he leaves.      “You too, Dean. Good luck tomorrow!” she says cheerily, giving him a little wave before she heads off herself.

     With a content smile on his face, the head wrangler returns to the table. It’s only after he has given everyone else their drinks and sets down the Coca-Cola bottle in front of his girlfriend that he locks eyes with her and notices the stale, yet anxious look on her face.      “What is it?” he wonders.      “Jamie seemed awfully friendly,” she comments, fidgeting with the straw of her drink to have something to focus on.

     Dean lifts his head slightly as his jaw lowers. He tries not to roll his eyes and pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Right, that conversation might have looked a little different from a distance than how it actually went. The penny drops and he turns to face Jo and shoots her a glare. The fact that Y/N has learned the name of the woman he’s been talking to gives away that his cousin apparently revealed more than he would have wanted.      “Okay!” Jo takes her cue and clears her throat, deciding that this would be a good time to exit the conversation. “I’m gonna request some songs to dodge the awkwardness. Have fun, you two.”      The ranch owner’s daughter quickly sneaks past Dean towards the dancefloor, heading to the stage. Before Dean speaks, he glances aside to make sure the others won’t pick up on their conversation. Deciding that he wants some more privacy, he takes Y/N’s hand and beckons her to come with him to an empty booth on the side.

     “Y/N, listen. I don’t know what Jo said--” he starts, before she cuts him off.      “- Jo has nothing to do with this. She was actually defending you. Don’t tell her I told you that.” Y/N sits down on the bench next to him, knowing that her best friend wouldn’t be happy with Dean knowing that she actually did something nice for him. God knows he will hold it against her.      “Jamie and I were just talking. Yeah, we hung out a couple of times, but I don’t feel anything for her. Hey…” He takes her hand, squeezing it softly. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m serious about us before you start believing me, huh?”

     He watches her take a breath, contemplating on what to say and on what to feel. Sure, a part of him gets it that she’s not a fan of the women who throw themselves at him. He didn’t like it one bit when Benny took an interest in her either, shutting that down immediately. Still, it hurts, because deep down he knows she assumes he will fall out of line.      “I believe you, it’s just that…” She exhales, shaking her head while she doubts herself more by the second. “I don’t believe the girls who have their eye on you have only good intentions.”      “You don’t have to worry about Jamie. She’s cool. And considering other flings and what not; it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what they want from me, because I know what I want for myself, and she’s sittin’ right beside me,” he tries to assure her, slipping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer. “You’re the only one I have eyes for, Yankee.”

     She looks up from under her lashes, his soft voice slowly beginning to ease her anxious mind. Dean casting those negative thoughts away only does one thing, though; it makes room for a different kind of self loathing.      “God, I’m such a bitch…” she says softly, rubbing her face with her free hand.      “No, you’re not. Don’t say that,” he dismisses, not wanting her to be so hard on herself. “But I need you to trust me.”

     Y/N eyes dart up to his, stunned, realizing that her behavior might have hurt him more than he’s letting on. He avoids her eyes, trying to mask the harm her actions did, but even in the dim light she can detect the damage. Of course she trusts him. She trusts him and Jo more than anyone on the ranch, yet it came across like she didn’t. Damn it, she could kick herself in the head right now. Jealousy isn’t a good look on her, neither is self-consciousness, but sometimes she can’t help but to feel intimidated and overwhelmed. He needs to know that it’s not his fault, though.      “Dean, I do trust you,” she promises, lacing her fingers with his, hoping to sooth him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t.”      He turns to look at her, allowing his thumb to rub over the smooth skin on the back of her hand. Despite her efforts, he can’t quite shake the feeling, but she doesn’t have to know that this bothers him more than it should. And so the corner of his mouth pulls up in a small smile as he looks deep into her eyes, and kisses her softly.

     The intimate connection brings more peace than they both expect. They have that effect on each other, that instant calm washing over with a small touch or a sweet kiss. It’s during moments like these that the insecurities lose their proof, the sources that are the patronizing and condescending voices in their heads suddenly unreliable.

     After a few peaceful seconds which silence his troubled mind, Dean moves his lips from hers, glad to see that the kiss worked the same wonders for Y/N. Her warm eyes look up at him when she leans into his chest.      “So we’re okay?” she checks, needing that confirmation.      “We’re okay,” he promises, leaving a kiss on her hair.

     The music changes, the lead singer persuading the attending guests to move to the dancefloor. As people leave their seats and gather, Jo emerges again and grabs her beer from the barrel table, carefully testing the water before she approaches the couple.      “Is the coast clear? I come in peace.” She holds up her hand innocently.      “Everything’s good,” Dean states, not just aiming at the bond between him and his cousin.      “In that case, can I steal your girlfriend?” Jo asks. “This is such a good song and I for one wanna dance!”

     Y/N’s face lights up, fueled by the blonde cowgirl’s contagious smirk. Before she slides out of the booth, though, she shares a look with Dean.      “Go, seriously. Have some fun,” he encourages.      “You’re not coming?” she wonders.      Dean scoffs. “Hell no!”      “Oh, come on!” Y/N tries again.      “It’s no use, Sis. Dean doesn’t dance. Not good for his John Wayne reputation,” Jo nags, taking her best friend’s hand to pull her to her feet.      “Wranglers don’t dance. They ride,” Dean defends, aggrieved.      “Alright, tough guy. You go stir in your own juices while you miss out on all the fun.” His cousin twirls around, dragging Y/N with her before she can change her mind.

     The most horrible and yet catchy country song ever made sounds from the amplifiers, ‘Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy’ covered by the band that is rocking it out on stage. A fiddler clad in a charming saloon dress like the women used to wear in the old West has joined them, adding spice with the crisp sound of her instrument.      Trying to get her best friend out of her funk, Jo pulls Y/N in the lines that have formed, without missing a beat getting into the choreographed series of steps that every cowgirl knows by heart. Laughing, Y/N joins her, getting the hang of the dance quickly.

     Dean has stood up and joined Jody, Donna and Benny at the barrel table, nursing his drink as he watches his Yankee dance it out. He lets the tension flow out of his chest with a deep breath, the ache melting away with the sight of her. The colored lights flick over her features in the same rhythm of the music, her hat hanging between her shoulder blades by the stampede string. Forgetting the troubles for a moment, she copies Jo’s motion, who pretends to rope a lasso above her head as she makes a circle, while shouting out the words back to the lead singer when he points his microphone to the dancing crowd. It makes Dean chuckle.

     “Well, that seems too jolly to miss out on,” Benny decides, holding out his elbow for Jody to hook her arm through. “Can I have this dance, darlin’?”      “Benny Lafitte, always the charmer,” the woman with pixie hair comments, but takes his offer, leaving just Donna and Dean.      They watch their friends, both with a pleased smile on their lips. It’s quiet for a while between old companions as they take in the carefree portrayal.      It’s the head wrangler of the Gold Canyon Ranch who eventually breaks the silence. “Thanks for the save.”      “What save?” Donna returns, pretending to be oblivious.

     He can see by her mischievous smirk that she’s well aware what he’s talking about; her bid on the Pinto at the auction. Donna never intended to buy the two year old stallion. She and Jody spent fifteen grand only an hour prior to the sale, and especially during current times, Dean can’t picture the girls spending another 7500 dollars on a second horse. He knew the moment Donna raised that sign; she was doing them a favor and drove up the price.      Dean throws her a knowing look, his eyebrow perked, triggering Donna to drop the act.      “That Pinto is a hell of a good horse. Would’ve been a good buy,” she grins. “If only I had done the final bid.”      Grinning, he takes a swig of his beer. He appreciates the help, knowing that the two female ranch owners will not spill the financial secret to anyone else in their circle. It’s safe with them, and he considers himself lucky to have friends like that. Everyone needs a hand sometimes, and he’s more than glad that Donna and Jody offered theirs in time of need.

     “Anyhoo, I’m gonna join the girls for a dance off. You should join us for a change. I’ll bet your belle would love it,” the broad-smiling woman suggests.      “She’s having plenty of fun without me,” he sniggers, watching her belt out the lyrics to the song with Jo.      “Okeydokes. But you’re missin’ out, handsome.” Donna winks at him, heading to the dancefloor with a spring in her step.

     Dean watches the cheery woman from Minnesota go, but his focus soon darts past her, immediately captured by the sight of Y/N. Damn, they could shut off the power and she would still light up the room. He can’t keep his eyes off her, the familiar swell of his heart once again taking up so much space that it’s hard to breathe. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, not anymore. It used to terrify him, feeling something so strong for a woman he’s known for such a short amount of time. But now when he feels it, it just strengthens his fondness and devotion for the girl who he wishes he had met years ago. Maybe he could have saved her the heartache that has her self-conscious about her place with Dean. Maybe his track record wouldn’t be so long that she would question him. He’s willing to do anything to make up for that time, though.

     As Jo and Y/N dance in circles around each other, clapping their hands and laughing, her gaze meets Dean’s. She’s caught off guard by the adoration in his eyes, his smile so warm and affectionate, that she slows her step. The good-looking cowboy she gets to call hers just stands there by himself, adding action to his words. He’s watching her as if she’s the only girl at the party, like she’s the only girl in the world.

     Y/N breaks away from her friends and steps towards him, swaying her hips a little more than she usually does. She shook the concern that weighed heavy on her earlier and got her footing back. A cheeky smile plays on her lips and her eyes sparkle, telling Dean instantly she’s up to no good.      When she reaches her boyfriend, she takes his forearm between both hands and pulls at it. “Come dance.”      “I don’t dance, Yankee,” he refuses, not budging.      The music changes to a new song, triggering cheers to rise from the small crowd. The new rhythm has her eyes go wide, then pleading.      “Oh, come on. This is a good song to move to!” Y/N begs, using all her strength to shift his tall form.

     He stands his ground, surprised at her physical strength, but the stand off is as much for his own sake as for hers. If he lets her go, she’s gonna land flat on her ass, but Dean spares her the embarrassment. The cowboy sighs, not that fond of being at the center of attention anyway, not to mention on the dance floor in this big tent. But how the hell is he going to say ‘no’ to her?      “One song,” he complies, strict on the conditions.      She jumps into the air excitedly and the delight in her eyes is already worth it. He adjusts his grip and laces his finger through hers, walking towards the dancing group of people, their friends amongst him.      Jo’s jaw drops to the floor when she notices Dean on her tail. “How the hell did you manage to drag his sorry ass over here?”      She wiggles her eyebrows. “I can be quite persuasive.”

     Her cowboy catches her by surprise when he tightens his hold on her hand, raising it and spinning her. When she comes full circle he pulls her in again, slipping his arm under hers and smoothly transitions into a two step. Completely flabbergasted, she grabs his shoulder and stares up at him with big eyes. Whoa, where the heck did that come from?      “I thought you couldn’t dance!” she giggles, while he leads her across the dancefloor, not missing a step.      “Never said that,” he smirks. “I just said I don’t dance.”      “Well, you’re dancing now,” Y/N returns, delighted.      He chuckles at that, looking deep into her eyes. “Only because the most beautiful girl at the party asked me.”

     They nail the routine, even though they’ve never teamed up on the dancefloor before. It’s not a complicated choreography, a simple one-two mixed with some country swing, but apparently it looks impressive enough to earn a ‘yee-haw!’ from Benny.      Y/N glances aside when the others rally them on, clapping in the rhythm of the song from the sideline, making room for the couple. Jo gives her two thumbs up, clearly entertained by the unexpected turn of events. She can’t stop her smile reaching from ear to ear when Dean twirls again, not missing the same expression on his face.

     The fiddle and guitar work together in harmony, throwing in a variation during the bridge of the song. Having her a little closer than at arms length, his right hand on her higher back, his left hand holding hers out to the side, they continue to move from one end of the open space to the other swiftly. The cowboy is enjoying himself, even though he was being a grump about dancing earlier. How can he not, now that he’s a witness of the pure joy his girl is radiating?

     The drummer finishes the song with a ruffle and the music dies down, the band receiving applause from the attending party-goers. Beaming, Y/N looks into Dean’s emerald green eyes, which sparkle every time the spotlight hits them. Dean was right; she’s having a blast, just like he predicted.

     Not ready to admit that he doesn’t really want to stop dancing with Y/N, he glances at the musicians, waiting for the next song. He narrows his eyes confused when he spots Donna, who got the attention of the lead singer. The young man has crouched down at the edge of the stage, Donna whispering something in his ear. Dean can see him nod in agreement before he rights himself and grabs the mic stand.      “Alright, y’all. I got a special request for a ballad just now. We’re gonna perform an original, so take your lady to the floor. Time to take things a lil’ slower.”

     He puts away his electric guitar and picks up the acoustic one, plugging it in. A romantic tune coming from the speakers when he strums the strings. Questioning, Y/N glances up at her boyfriend, almost sheepishly. Dean agreed to one song, which had a totally different vibe to the music that was sounding right now. The wrangler has been nothing but wonderful and sweet with her, but she doesn’t expect him to openly show how much he cares about her, especially with Bobby still present in the tent.

     But against the odds, Dean moves his extended hand that was still holding hers closer to his chest, letting it rest there. Gentle fingertips press into her skin as they sink to the small of her back, encouraging her to come close. He looks at her, the playfulness dying down and replaced with something deeper, something even more profound.

     I can’t count the times I almost said what’s on my mind, but I didn’t.      Just the other day, I wrote down all the things I’d say, but I couldn’t.      Baby, I know that you’ve been wondering.      So here goes nothing.

     Comfortable in his arms, Y/N lays her head against his chest, the soft thump of his heart beat and the slow swaying motion calming every nerve that was ever there. She couldn’t feel safer, more sheltered than in this very moment. Right now, she’s the only girl in the world. She couldn’t care less that she’s in the limelight, that everyone is a witness of the bond between them that’s strengthening each day. In fact, she feels proud. Dean stepped on the dance floor, just for her. He is showing a side of him not many are familiar with, just for her. If this doesn’t prove that he’s her man, and no one else's, nothing will.

     In case you didn’t know, baby, I’m crazy ‘bout you.      And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.      Even though I don’t tell you all the time,      you had my heart a long, long time ago.      In case you didn’t know.

     Careful not to stand on her feet and ruin the moment, Dean continues to slowly sway her from side to side. Softly pressing his cheek against her hair, he shuts his eyes for a second, storing the memory amongst the other precious recollections. God, this feels beyond amazing.

     When he opens his eyes again, his gaze travels over the faces watching the pairs in front of the stage. Tensing slightly, he notices Bobby, who watches the two slow-dancing. His uncle shoots back a judgemental glare, seemingly not too pleased with the fact that there’s more going on between the supervisor and the intern than he originally thought. The head wrangler looks back guilty, grimacing awkwardly.

     “What is it?” Y/N wonders, apparently feeling him stiffening.      “I think we’ve been made,” Dean whispers in her ear, dipping down his head slightly.      “Bobby?” she assumes, concerned. “What should we… Should we stop?”      But Dean shakes his head, not caring about the ranch owner at this point. He’ll get over it, and if there was ever a right time to tell the old man, today, after the wins they so desperately needed, would be the day.      “Keep dancing,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss against her hair.        Y/N eases, leaning into him again, the space between the two decreased to the minimum. A breath slips from her lips, the air warm against his chest, even through his shirt. He can smell her shampoo lingering in her locks, mixed with her scent that’s so unmistakably hers. Slowly but surely, everything about her is becoming familiar, yet there’s not a single aspect of the woman before him that he takes for granted.

     The way you look tonight, that second glass of wine. That did it.      There was somethin ‘bout that kiss. Girl you did me in.      Got me thinking. I’m thinking.      One of the things that I’ve been feeling, it’s time you hear ‘em.

     Listening to the words, feeling the music reach his soul, he can’t help but to evaluate the thoughts that cross his mind and the emotions that leave him vulnerable. He knows he’s beyond falling in love at this point, but even if he could, he would never want to go back. Y/N is what he never knew he needed, yet it stuns him when that three word sentence settles on the tip of his tongue. He can’t tell her, though. Not yet. The way he’s holding her right now, how he softly leans into her, is the closest he can get to actually saying it out loud. God, he hopes she knows. Dean silently promises that one day he will tell her. One day.

     In case you didn’t know, baby, I’m crazy ‘bout you.      And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.      Even though I don’t tell you all the time,      you had my heart a long, long time ago.      In case you didn’t know.

     The cowboy pulls back slightly, dipping his chin to establish eye contact again. The kindest smile awaits him, her beautiful orbs glazed over with emotion. She’s not sad, though, quite the opposite. She’s moved. No one has ever made her feel this whole. This is the true definition of happiness, being in his arms, him looking at her like he’s doing so now. Their noses brush when Dean leans in, then he moves his mouth to hers and captures her lips with his. The kiss is soft and slow, just like the music, just like the dance. But of all the intimate moments they shared so far, this has to be the greatest one yet. The thought swirled through her head before, but in this very moment, she is sure: she loves Dean. More than she ever thought she was capable of.

     You’ve got all of me.      I belong to you.      Yeah, you’re my everything.

     In case you didn’t know, baby, I’m crazy ‘bout you.      And I would be lying if I said that I could live this life without you.      Even though I don’t tell you all the time,      you had my heart a long, long time ago.      In case you didn’t know.

     From a distance, the company of four watches the couple. The dim light coming from the strings of lightbulbs above the dancefloor falls over them like a soft blanket, the spots by the stage illuminating their silhouettes. The vision before them is the definition of romance, one that silences the normally so chatty personalities on the sideline.

     Jody and Donna sigh collectively, swooning at the sight.      “I can’t...” The blonde ranch owner swoons. “I can’t with these two.”      “They are so good together,” Jody agrees, endeared.      Jo nods, proud of her friend, and secretly also of her cousin. “Gotta say, never thought I’d see it happen. If he can settle down, there’s still hope for all of us.”      “You guys can thank me with a beer,” Benny sniggers, his eyes not leaving the pair either.

     His comment earns a look from the three women in his presence. The farrier is about to move a beer bottle to his mouth, but pauses the action when he feels their eyes burning in the side of his head, demanding an explanation.      “Who do you think talked sense into the bastard and told him to get his act together, huh?” he brags, taking a sip of his drink.      “Who do you think told him to never let go of that girl and that he better put a ring on her finger?” Jody says, earning impressed nods.      “Who do you think requested this song?” Donna bounces back victoriously.      “Well then,” Jo holds out her bottle, waiting for the others to join her in a toast. “To the matchmakers!”

     Jody is the last one to raise her wine, her eyes not leaving the sight before them. “To love,” she adds.      The four agree to that, clinking their glasses together. After all, it’s what life is all about. Friends, family and that one person you’re going to share the rest of your life with.      They repeat her wise words with abandon. “To love!”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-one here

[unholyplumpprincess]

Of Flowers and Lust

Here is a kofi commission for @uhohko who I had the absolute pleasure of working with because they really said ‘hey Peach here’s all your kinks in one’ and so I kind of went absolutely bonkers with this. The idea? Sex pollen, Elliott getting a full whiff of it, Bloodhound getting WRECKED LIKE THEY DESERVE.

Summary: Bloodhound loves to collects herbs and natural flora for at home remedies and cooking. This can involve some things such as mushrooms that can calm down anxieties, to natural foliage that can help you sleep, or even to the pretty yellow flowers they bring home that are to increase sex drive and fertility. Elliott is always effected much harder, more intensely by these things for some reason. Yet, he never takes the time to consider that Bloodhound says 'don't touch this' was a demand, rather than the 'suggestion' he takes it as. Or. In which Elliott inhales sex pollen and wants to breed Bloodhound until the morning is night.

Reblogs > Likes. Age in your bio (18+ only) or be blocked.

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Mirage/Bloodhound

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Bloodhound has a vulva and hella body mods (you can find my hc of them listed in my masterlist), Sex pollen BUT CONSENSUAL, copious amounts of cum, loud loud breeding kink, The term ‘mama’ is used for Bloodhound which is bc nb folk Can use gendered terms u know and I’m only putting this here bC SOMEONE IS GONNA CLOWN, Lots of dirty talk like filthy filthy talk, cum swallowing.

Words: 6.1k

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It should be best stated now that: Elliott did not take to listening very well.  

No, no, not emotionally. No, Elliott was a fantastic partner. He was kind and sweet, even going so far as to try with all his might to help with Bloodhound’s insomnia. Gods bless him, trying to stay awake with them through the nights, eyes fighting to stay open whilst Bloodhound cozily read up next to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t take to listening well in their relationship, no, Elliott was just as attentive as Bloodhound was to their beloved in turn.  

No. It is simply the fact of the matter that Elliott did not take to listening to things like ‘Don’t put that in your mouth’ as a warning, but more as a suggestion.   

For most things Bloodhound foraged, it wasn’t an issue. It would have minor side effects or Elliott would simply not enjoy the taste or smell of it. They did a lot of cooking now that they could cook for two- when they weren’t cooking with  Makoa  for the whole compound that is- and Bloodhound enjoyed finding fresh ingredients. Whether that was from the various plants they grew in their room, or what they could find on planet. Including meats that they’d hunt themself and Elliott would be ‘wowed’ by all the dishes they could create.  

They took pride in being able to cook for him, and in turn they watched Elliott light up when it was his turn to make something. Their two styles of cooking varied vastly, with Elliott leaning more comforting, filling foods. Whilst Bloodhound leaned more for spices and what would be earthier and slow cooked.  

With this, also came Bloodhound foraging for ‘alien plants’ as Elliott called them.

~Rest under the cut~

Nearing the arena was natural foliage and thick woods that weren’t recommended to go in, woods in which Bloodhound often found a creature to get meat from and organic vegetation. This could also lead to them going out merely to collect flora that they would crush and turn into salves, teas, medicines, various things that they must have learned from their uncle. Who Elliott only knew from Bloodhound gently opening up one night, but not a lot about him.  

Bloodhound was more reserved, and Elliott made sure they knew how proud he was of them anytime they opened up with one more little thing.  

It was the little things.  

Recently, Elliott had been staying in their room for longer periods of time. Going from hours to days to staying an entire week. Bloodhound didn’t mind, not in the slightest. Elliott had stated it was to help their insomnia at first, only to shyly rub the back of his neck with a soft laugh and say, “And, uh, I...I like your company at night- w-well, all the time, I mean, like, of course I love your company! All the time, I just meant like, when we’re sleeping together and- and-and--”   

And they’d let him talk it out of his system, hands moving only to slow down when he peeked over to see their patient gaze. He’d taken a slow breath, his cheeks flushed and a soft laugh bubbling from him when Bloodhound had smiled kindly and stated, “I understand, beloved. You need not to worry. I enjoy your company as well. At all hours.”   

Just the tiniest joke to ease his nerves and make that blindingly beautiful, dimpled smile split across his face.  

But, now that he was here more often, it meant he was curious in the flora Bloodhound always brought back. They had a thin cord run across their window to sun dry any flora. Always tied up and strung upside down to be dried and later crushed into powders or turned into various other things. Mushrooms were dried the same way and anything else they might try- however, Elliott was a curious creature.  

Bloodhound tries to teach him, explaining the properties and uses of certain things and why they collect them. The strange vibrant, violet mushrooms were to ease anxiety if used in a small dosage. Normally used in teas or to hold under the tongue until mush to spit out.  

They had started to explain that eating one, or not dissolving into tea, could cause a feeling as if being high. But when they turn around, they’d found Elliott already chomping down on one with a face of ‘uh-oh’ when they’d turned to look at him.  

It was amusing to watch him laze about and whine that he couldn’t move. It wouldn’t harm him bodily or mentally, no, but Bloodhound did mildly delight in watching Elliott roll around on their bed and chirp about how ‘soooft and waaaarm and great smelling’ their bed was. Although, even more delight arose when they realized he was practically humping their bed.  

Yes, it appeared Elliott’s body reacted more...acutely to certain things.  

Side effects that could be rarer, such as arousal from that particular mushroom. Though even more peculiar is when he’d cum in their mouth, only to sigh and thank them in a lazy tone and say, “Yeah, you’re WAY better than a pumpkin.”  

A response that had them quirking a brow, but never receiving an answer when they’d heard him snoring. Able to see him spread out like a starfish with a half hard dick flopped on his hip.  

Attractive.  

For most things, Bloodhound has learned that in the case of them bringing home foreign flora or vegetation, that by default Elliott will not listen. Thankfully they’ve never brought anything dangerous home, besides some poisonous bark that they kept AWAY from Elliott in another area in which he would not curiously bring it to his nose.  

Today, however, they’ve brought home beautiful yellow flowers. They’re small, almost budding open like a tube with its petals with cobalt pollen stems inside. They bloom in a group, almost looking like lavender on their trimmed stems to be able to fit into a tightly sealed bag.  

Bloodhound enters their room in full gear, shutting and locking the door behind them and finding their home cleaned up. With only just a jacket over the pile of cushions and furs that acted almost as a couch in the center of the main room.  

Different bones rest along the walls of their home, either from their own hunts or Artur or Munnin bringing them in. Picture frames that Elliott had brought them with pictures of them in more intimate scenarios like their first date, or a picture that just consisted of Elliott taking a selfie that he had given as a joke gift for their birthday that they wound up cherishing. To different potted plants that lined the open wall towards their small kitchen area.  

Elliott comes around the corner looking freshly showered. He’s got on a black t-shirt that’s a little tight on him and showing his midriff, most certainly belonging to Bloodhound, and some gray sweatpants. It’s casual wear, showing he’s already made up his mind on staying for a few days.  

A decision that Bloodhound gladly accepts.  

His curls are still a bit damp, it looks like, and as they start to remove their gear, starting with their respirator, they inhale and can smell the products he uses in his hair and the soaps he must have borrowed. Their full lips quirk up briefly, the idea that he smelled like them always irking a flicker of possessiveness in their stomach.  

Theirs.  

“Ah, hey, Houndie! Was wondering when you’d be back!” Elliott greets, coming closer as they start to remove their helmet, shaking their frizzy red curls free and pulling their goggles up and onto the top of their head.  

They greet him properly once he reaches them, gently cupping his cheeks and pulling him close to rest their foreheads together.   

It’s quiet and intimate, letting their breath mingle and noses gently nuzzling. Elliott would have never guessed for them to be so affection and intimate, not back before they were dating- or even friends for that matter! It had taken all of Bloodhound’s courage to even hook their pinkies their first date.  

Even now he smiles through it, keeping his eyes closed for the twenty seconds Bloodhound holds him before gently letting him go. “I apologize. It took longer to find than I thought it would.” Speaking as they move to remove their upper armor. Too heavy and hot to be worn indoors. They’re left in their long sleeved, tight black shirt, gloves, combat boots, and tactical pants.   

A look in which they know Elliott is graciously looking at their ass once they turn their back to him.  

Bloodhound moves around him towards their counter area they’d built. Set up with cutting boards to the side, herb separators, and various knives to help them with the set up. They set the clear bag full of flowers atop, feeling as Elliott curiously stalks behind them.  

With their hands still gloved, they pull out the flowers and set them on top of the smooth counter. Peeking around for their ribbon to tie them up and huffing when they find it not in sight. They can already feel Elliott hovering behind them, making that curious little noise he does in a quiet question of what they had.  

“They are called The Child Bestowers,” Bloodhound begins, watching from the corner of their good eye as Elliott shuffles to their side to peek around them. “They are for aiding in arousal, for those who need help, as well as providing a pleasant sensation if turned into lubrication. They are also said to help with fertility, if you are to drink them in teas or bathe with them. Or to increase sperm count, if the person having them has external genitalia.” They explain, gently aligning them into a bouquet to rest on top of each other.  

“Soooo...it’s a sex plant?” Elliott frankly says. A statement to which Bloodhound lets out a rushed breath of amusement from their nose.  

“I suppose, if you wish to be blunt, yes. Wait here, and do not touch them. Elliott, am I understood?”  

“Aw, c’mon, babe! What’s the harm? I just get horny? Don’t need plants to do that.” Elliott coos at them, making an obvious look back at their ass. But when they shoot him a look, he sighs, holding a hand over his heart and a hand flat palmed towards them with his eyes closed. “I, Elliott ‘Mirage’ Witt, will not touch the horny flowers. Scout’s honor.”  

There’s a strain to that word.  

Elliott was always good with his words; Silver tongued and quick witted, a trickster truly walking among the mortal plane. It is what attracted Bloodhound to him in the first place, besides his kindness. They narrow their eyes at his face, watching him peek open one eye and giving his very best puppy dog eyes when they look at him until it’s Bloodhound’s turn to relent with a sigh.  

He’s going to do something. They know he will. Always so curious about the effects. There should be nothing odd if he were to touch them, just that the pollen was potent as is and Elliott always had...new reactions to things. As if his immune system were built differently. He would most certainly become aroused, but they worried about what the full effect would be...  

They leave the room to find ribbon so they may string up the bouquets to dry. Finding the ribbon resting in the window sill where they must have left it absentmindedly. And in just maybe the minute they are gone, they return to Elliott who is standing perfectly innocent with his hands folded behind his back.  

Suspicious at his innocent looking face, his doe-like eyes fluttering at them, they narrow their own. Carefully coming around the counter and setting the ribbon next to the flowers. It’s with great attention to detail do they see the speck of yellow on his nose, “Elliott did you tou--”  

“I did not TOUCH the flowers, swear!”  

“Did you smell them?”  

That’s when Elliott’s lips purse, eyes flickering to the side away from their face as if a child who had been caught. He eventually gives in, sighing, “Yeah, but they smelled really good? And I don’t think anything is  gonna  happen! Look, no boner!” As if to make a point, he leans back and away from the counter, gesturing blatantly to his crotch. Their eyes briefly flicker down, quirking a brow to see the tent resting there and their own cheeks warming.  

“Elliott...”  

“What?” He blinks, looking down and then his own face flushes. It’s as if Bloodhound and himself had never had intercourse because both his hands fly to hide said tent, his face burning red. “Shit! I-I-I didn’t even feel it??? It just- it just feels warm? Like usual? Aw shit maybe it did do something? I’m not  gonna  die, right? Death by horny doesn’t really sound like an extrav - an extgan-  ext — a cool way to go .”  

Bloodhound sighs with an amused tone at his franticness, amused at how his hands had gone from hiding to instead gesturing like he normally does. Yes, it was supposed to aid in arousal, but it wasn’t supposed to have such a quick effect. Then again, Elliott’s body always seemed to experience the more intense side of things when it came to new flora and foliage.  

“No, there is nothing deadly within their pollens. However, you may be more difficult to satis--” They cut themself off then when Elliott lets out this pained whine, seeming to scoot closer to them until they’re backed up against the counter throughout their singular sentence.  

Their breath hitches, hands coming to rest on his waist in almost a comforting manner when he ducks his head down. At first, they think he’s going for a kiss, until he’s nosing at their neck, nudging their head to the side and pressing open mouthed, hot kisses up to their pierced ear.  

Bloodhound’s breath catches, squeezing his waist gently and running their hands up along his body until they can get to his curls. “Y-you may be more difficult to satisfy, when you are- ah- affected by the- the pollen-” They manage to breathe out, twisting their fingers at the root to hold him, a soft gasp leaving them when his teeth nip at their jawline.  

But, even through the haze Elliott must be feeling, he still manages to huff out in a strained tone, ”Do...Do you want to...? I can go to the shower and deal- ah- deal with this?”  

“I wish to aid in however you need.” Bloodhound responds honestly, pulling his hair gently when his teeth sink into their neck and they feel him sucking. Sensitive there, they let out a soft growl that only makes Elliott groan. His hands going from gripping the counter to hoisting them up by their thighs onto it, pushing the flowers to the side to get them out of the way.  

They know a hickey will rest over their flesh over the splash of lighter skin tone they had resting on their neck- one of Elliott’s favorite places to bruise them. Bloodhound’s breath hitches when his hands slide over their pants-clad thighs, up to their waist as he starts to leave another bruise just under their ear.  

Bloodhound snarls softly, running their nails over his scalp and one hand dragging down Elliott’s nape like he likes. He lets out the prettiest sound against their neck, his hips absentmindedly humping against them without thinking. They abuse this by dragging their nails down his back, grabbing his muscular ass and pressing him forward with each thrust so he’d properly dry hump them.  

It sparks the reaction they crave, where Elliott lets out this beautiful, shaky, sharp whimper. His mouth trails back up, pressing kisses up their jawline until he can press their foreheads together.  

Bloodhound takes the time to let their eyes remain half lidded to watch him. Elliott looked gorgeous, his hair a mess, brows furrowed and his eyes shut in concentration. His full lips are parted, letting their breath mingle in small pants puffing from his mouth. Something they can’t help but lean forward to kiss him to take his breaths.  

Elliott moans into their mouth upon contact, one of his hands pressing to the counter, the other holding onto their waist to drag them closer to the edge. His hips are frantic, pounding against them as if he could fuck them through both their layers of clothing. It feels like he’s trying to, really. Bloodhound can feel every grind up against them, making their own breath strain as wetness builds up between their own legs from the consistent pressure on their clit.  

Not to mention how much they adored to see him so desperate.  

Their hands drag back up to his hair, pulling on his curls to break the kiss and watching as he follows the motion beautifully. “Fuck, Hound, baby- God, fuck- it's really- ah- it's so hot, it feels so hot, he-heavy-” He’s sobbing out so sweetly, his hips stuttering when they go for his exposed throat, dragging their double canines over the side of his neck and lightly biting down on him to leave a bruise.  

Elliott sobs out, his hips slamming up against them and his hands falling to their ass. He practically yanks them to him, near making them get knocked off the counter. But they quickly figure out why when they’re halfway through sucking a dark bruise into his neck when they feel the wetness starting to seep into the front of their own pants-  

Wait why can they feel it through their own pants?  

Elliott’s still clinging to them, his body shaking and moans leaving his throat. His hips are still gently humping against them, his arms still locked, when normally by now he’d ease up and maybe be embarrassed.  

“Elliott-” Bloodhound breathes out in his ear, causing him to turn his face into their neck. He’s whimpering something, his lips moving against their skin, but they can’t hear him quite well.  

 Not until he’s repeating the same phrase, so shaky and high pitched of; “Still  cumming , oh-oh God, baby, fuck, s-still cumming, cumming, cumming, cumming-” In this string of desperation that makes Bloodhound’s breath catch.  

It takes a total of thirty seconds until he can finally stop shaking. Elliott is falling to his knees; His entire body trembling and Bloodhound can smell how strong his scent lingers on them. It makes their mouth water, but even more so when they look down to see him sitting on his knees, thighs apart and head back. His face is flushed, lips parted and panting and his doe-like eyes half lidded looking up at them like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.  

If he wasn’t in such a desperate state, perhaps they’d toy with him like this. Make him beg for release. But as it appears right now, Elliott was cumming for a rather long time, and that alone warranted some looking into. And sadly, that did not involve seeing his resolve crumble and making him beg like a good boy.  

Bloodhound’s eyes trail down his body, noticing that the wet spot isn’t just soaking a spot on the front of his pants, but instead almost as if someone had dumped a bottle full of water on his front- and Bloodhound’s for that matter.  

Side effects-  

“Houndie-” Elliott whimpers out, stopping Bloodhound’s staring as they shuffle off the counter. He immediately seeks their comfort, wrapping his arms around their leg and pressing his cheek to their outer thigh. Their breath hitches at the sight of him so close, but they gently rest their hand atop his head, using their nails to massage gently at his scalp.  

“Shh, shh, you are alright, beloved, you are alright. Can you stand? Or crawl, perhaps?” Their last words are playful, warranting that beautiful smile to etch across Elliott’s face. More upturned on one side with his dimples creasing into his cheeks. And at first it seems he’s relaxed himself, especially when he murmurs a playful ’woof’ before his body trembles and a whimper erupts from his lips. “Perhaps I shall carry you?”  

“N-no, no, I can do it, just- God, baby, I’m...I hate to say it, but I don’t think I-I'm close to done?” Elliott manages to get out, his tone breathless, his pupils blown huge when he turns his gaze up to them. Their heart constricts at how helpless he looks, but unfortunately it only turns Bloodhound on further to see him so desperate.  

It’s a bit of a shaky walk back into Bloodhound’s bedroom. Immediately Elliott is flopped onto the bed, the furs cool against his overheated flesh. Bloodhound helps him to strip, removing their own boots and their ruined pants so they may sit in their boyshorts and sports bra with Elliott completely nude.  

Bloodhound’s breath hitches when their eyes fall to his cock, already hard again and pressed against his abdomen. The head was red, flushed and peeking from his foreskin, but what really gets their attention is his balls.  

They’re swollen, almost a handful each rather than as a whole. Gently, Bloodhound rests their cold fingertips over the flesh, their eyes flickering up to watch Elliott as he pants heavily and squirms like a dog in heat. Even going so far as to his hips humping upwards and a heavy glob of pre-cum to bead at the head of his cock.   

Oh, he was getting affected hard.  

Bloodhound had a feeling they wouldn’t be able to walk straight after this.  

Running their fingertips along his cock, Elliott lets out a sound as if they would have been grabbing him fully. Sensitive, it seemed. Bloodhound fights a smile, gently grabbing his cock beneath the head and smearing the pre-cum with their thumb with a soft coo arising from them, ”You are so wet, my love.”  

Elliott makes a strained sound in his throat, his hips thrusting up into their loose grip and sobbing out something incoherent. He’s a mess, panting and starting to look more flushed by the second. And judging by the way his abdomen is tightening, they can only guess how sensitive he was.  

Yes, this was going to be a long session. It appeared the pollen he’d inhaled worked more like a ‘sex pollen’ on him, something that should only effect beasts with outer genitalia that came across the plant. Working like an aphrodisiac, for beasts it made their stamina much longer, including their...their sperm count to be higher, resulting in swollen looking testicles and an insatiable need to breed their mates.  

Bloodhound swallows, their mouth already feeling dry at the idea of Elliott trying to breed them. It makes their thighs press closer together, a shaky breath leaving them as they try to compose themself in order to take care of him.  

They only get to pump his cock a few times before Elliott’s scrambling for them, whimpering about something frantically that sounds a lot like he’s mumbling, “Need to taste you, need you, baby, I need you-” But they can hardly make it out over the sound of their own yelp when he’s flipping them.  

He’s at least got enough coherency to pause when he hooks his fingers around their underwear, waiting until they give their consent before  he‘ s quick to tug their boyshorts off. He sits back between their spread thighs with this starving look in his eyes as they rake across their form. Flustered at the attention and control being tugged out from under them, Bloodhound’s face flushes and a soft growl of his name starts to arise as they bristle and lean up on their elbows.  

“R-right!” He manages to get out, immediately moving to lie on his abdomen, hooking his arms under their powerful thighs and nuzzling at their red curls between their thighs.  

Normally, Elliott was a starving man between their thighs, always a mess of humping the bed and moaning into them as if they tasted divine. And now is no different; His tongue desperately licking up their cunt to their fat, engorged clit, lapping at it and letting his tongue rest just underneath to feel them throb in anticipation.  

It’s with another snarl and Bloodhound’s hand pressing at the back of his head does Elliott wrap his lips around their enlarged clit, suckling how they liked and making their head toss to the side. A moan blossoms from their chest, their hips tilting upwards when his tongue frantically dips down to their hole to lick up the wetness seeping from them. But then he’s pulling back briefly, pressing his nose to their mound just above their clit and inhaling their scent, letting his nose nuzzle at their clit in a way that makes Bloodhound gasp out.  

“You smell so good, baby, can’t get enough-” Elliott is just about moaning into them, his words causing their ears to burn red and for them to bite their bottom lip at the attention. Bloodhound starts to growl out something in reply, maybe for him to focus on his meal rather than speaking, but then he’s continuing with a low voice, “Want to fill you full of pups. Would you like that, puppy? Want to be filled?”  

That...  

That is most certainly new.  

Bloodhound’s body betrays their thoughts when their clit jerks heavily and a fresh wave of slick seeps out of them. Their face burns, their body desperately aching in ways they didn’t think they’d ever experienced before. They can feel their pulse in their clit when Elliott lets out this low moan of appreciation, wrapping his lips around it and moaning into them as if even the thought of breeding them was too much to bear.  

Bloodhound cums in record time, fingers scrabbling to hold Elliott’s hair as huffing, small growls come out with every breath. Their brows are knitted, their head thrown back and full lips parted to pant heavily. They’re almost dizzy from the orgasm, managing to make enough sense to feel Elliott’s fingers pressing into them. Two fingers go in with ease, curling up expertly into their g-spot and making their head throw to the side with a cry of, “Elliott!” Leaving them in a desperate tone.  

“Fuck, yes, keep crying like that, sweetheart.” Elliott’s voice is thick with lust, something they think they’d only ever heard when he was on his knees and woofing like a dog for them.  

To see him- to feel him take control even in a state like this? Bloodhound isn’t too sure how to feel quite yet about their lack of control on him but oh, oh if he keeps  moving  his fingers like that-  

“Good pup, let me stretch out your sweet little cunt so I can breed you so full, you’re gonna feel so good on my cock-” Elliott breathes against them, his tone desperate and tinging on a whine, licking flatly over their clit and making their hips jerk. Bloodhound doesn’t think they can get any redder at this point from his filthy mouth. Even more so when they feel him nuzzle at their mound just to hear him inhale their scent as his fingers curl upwards and fuck into them.  

Their second orgasm comes quick, fit with them snarling and their eyes flashing a glowing red without their permission. Every sense is enhanced, the scent of Elliott, the scent of themself, the feeling of him touching their body, every sound made, their vision black and white and Elliott’s body highlighted in glowing red. The feeling of his fingers pounding into them is almost too much again, a whimper sharply leaving their throat just as Elliott pulls his fingers out and sits up.  

He uses their slick to lubricate his own cock, the sight sending a possessive feeling through their body resulting in a low, rolling snarl. They go to move, to maybe sit up and shove him down, to take back their control that they had lost- but that’s quickly cut off when he’s rolling them onto their abdomen. He’s yanking their hips up until they’re forced to brace their upper body by crossing their arms on a pillow and resting their head on their forearms.  

“Elliott-” They manage to choke out when he’s taking his cock and sliding the head a few times over their lower lips and over their clit. Bloodhound’s body is tensed, feeling the press into them and their mouth falls open to let out a cry when he sinks home into them in one, clean thrust.  

It’s as if Elliott’s body had only enough in of himself to remember foreplay for them before the storm hits. Because he’s grabbing onto their hips, tugging them back in a way he’s never done before, fucking into them with harsh thrusts. His balls, as engorged and heavy as they are, slap forward against them and cause consistent stimulation that has Bloodhound’s nails sinking into their own arms. They move their mouth to press against their own flesh, trying to muffle the pathetic sounds erupting from their chest.  

Normally, they had the control in the bedroom. Even in positions like this, they would talk Elliott through it, call him their dog or how pathetic he sounded. Or ride him and hold their hands over his throat, or yank his hair back and force him to cry out.   

The control they had was for their own comfort, always so nervous to give it up. On the nights Elliott could gently coax them to, it was with gentle words and nudges.  

They...they think they prefer when he just takes it like this.  

There’s no thinking as Elliott fucks into their body. He’s vocal, as always, moaning behind them and filth spilling out of, “Want me to cum inside you, baby?” Which Bloodhound keens in response to without thinking, their hips pressing back into a thrust and that seems to do it.  

Again, in record time, Elliott is cumming. His nails dragging into their thighs until he falls forward to hook his arms around them tightly. He trembles as he cums inside of them, and they quickly figure out that Elliott did in fact get the same results that a beast might. Because they’re feeling fuller...and fuller...and fuller by the second.  

So much so that when Elliott pulls his hips back in the slightest, cum comes spilling out and down their thighs messily. Bloodhound can’t help but lift their hips a bit to their best of ability, peeking down to watch it trail messily down with a low groan.  

It’s when Elliott runs his fingers through it and brings them to Bloodhound’s lips  do  they really think he’s being swayed even further by the pollen. When they don’t immediately take him up on the offering, his fingers grab their long hair into a ponytail, pulling it and effectively making their head come up with a matching snarl erupting from their lips.  

And that’s when they part their lips, allowing for him to smear his cum on their split, pierced tongue with a satisfied groan of, “Good dog.” Cooing from his lips. Fit with his fingers messily dragging down the corner of their mouth as if to smear it on their face.  

From there, it’s a blur. At some point Elliott’s managed to take off Bloodhound’s sports bra to leave them in nothing, moving them around again and again. So many different positions they wind up in- bent over the bed, on top of Elliott and riding him with his hips slamming up into them, to on their side with their leg thrown over his shoulder and their snarling and growling ending up slowly turning to weak moans and cries, their voice growing hoarse. To them riding him again, their arms pulled behind their back and angling their body just so Elliott could fuck up into them like a toy.  

They’ve both cum so many times, Bloodhound’s lost count. Only feeling fuller by the minute, the taste of his cum lingering on their tongue from  every time  he’s shoved his fingers into their mouth eagerly.   

Now Elliott has them with their back to his chest, one arm tossed around his shoulders and one of his own arms tucked around their waist to hold them. His other hand had been grabbing their jaw, forcing them to watch their own shaky body get fucked by him. “Look at you, Houndie, so good for me. My good dog. You're gonna be so cute all swollen, hm?”  

Bloodhound had sobbed out, eyes near about rolling as another weak orgasm wracked their own frame. The visuals and the scent too much, able to watch his fat cock slam into their cunt with their clit engorged and reddened jerking with each contraction. From this angle, they can see how his cock moves inside of them from the slight bump of their lower abdomen, to how messy their thighs are with cum and how strings of it are left connecting them to Elliott’s hips with each messy slap up against them.  

Elliott’s beautiful moans in their ear are low when he scoops up a glob of cum on their thigh, dragging it to Bloodhound’s mouth to smear it all over their tongue again. They obey near instantly, sticking out their tongue to let him do so before swallowing with a whimper. They must do it too soon, because Elliott’s smearing the rest over the corner of their mouth, moving to cup their cheek this time and smearing it over their cheekbone as well.  

“Nngh --” Bloodhound moans out, trying to turn their head to bury it into Elliott’s hair, but he quickly catches their jaw again, forcing them to keep watching as he fucks up into them.  

“That’s it, good dog, take it, take it-” Elliott near about growls out, moving his hand from their jaw when they finally stay put. He moves it to grab at one of their breasts, thumbing a sensitive, pierced nipple just to make their cunt clench weakly. Before he’s splaying his hand out on their abdomen and cooing through desperate little moans, “G- gonna  be the cutest mama.  Gonna  fill you fucking full, baby, make sure you’re full of pups w-with your cute little- ah- cunt--”  

Bloodhound doesn’t think that either of them have any thoughts left. He’s almost frantic to breed them, but there’s something loving about the way he speaks the word ‘mama’. It could almost make them believe the effects were starting to wear off with how tenderly spoken it is.  But,  perhaps that is merely their own secret interest in perhaps having a child with him trying to emerge.  

They must have turned their head, because Elliott’s got his hand back on their jaw to keep them watching. Bloodhound’s breathing so hard, panting and sobbing out by the time Elliott finally cums again. It must have been the twelfth time already, and they’d lost count of even their own.  

He groans so beautifully in their ear, burying his face into their shoulder and clinging to them as he cums. And dutifully, Bloodhound watches as he does, burying himself to the hilt inside of them and watching his balls tighten, how cum dribbles out of them because it’s too much.  

Bloodhound isn’t really too sure at what point they do finally pass out. But they wake up with possibly the most sleep they’d ever had in years, rested, sore, bruised, and...  

Clean?  

They’re still naked, a low groan leaving them as their eyes flutter open. They sit up to find their furs that had been on their bed are gone, possibly gone to be washed, and instead they are curled up in one of Elliott’s blankets that he leaves when their furs become too hot for him. Carefully, they roll to their side as they lie back down, finding said menace of a boyfriend passed out as well and cleaned up.  

He must have had the time to wash them both off before he’d fallen asleep. How thoughtful.  

Carefully moving once again, they scoot closer to Elliott to gently rest a hand on his head. Immediately he makes a soft, moaning sound, rolling over into them so he can wrap their arms around their waist and bury his face into their chest. Resulting in Bloodhound lying back on their back, playing with his hair in the morning light.  

Perhaps they could keep a sampling of the pollen for more...experimentation.  

If Elliott were to be interested in having another six hour long session.  

Bloodhound’s lips flicker up into a small smile as a thought crosses their mind.  

Perhaps Elliott would be interested in actually...trying for a child at some point. He had said he always wanted to be a stay at home father...  

When they hear him snore against their chest, nosing his way back in with a comforted sigh, they can’t help how bright their heart feels at the idea.  

[pahrak-the-sinnoh-slizer]

Right of Law, Section XXVII

(Zaekura meets again with the Le-Koronans, while the situation surrounding Civitas Magna’s kolhii tournament begins to escalate.)

“Everyone will be so happy to see you!” Tamaru said as she bounced down the path.  “We were all worried sick!”

Zaekura walked a few steps behind her, flanked by Charla, Antroz, and Emsar.  “Yeah, dealing with Atero wasn’t exactly easy, but we managed.  I’m hoping it’ll go a little smoother when we have to take the fight to them.”

Tamaru hummed.  “That’d be nice...you controlling Atero.  Ah, here we are!”

They arrived in a clearing lined with scores of people: Matoran, Toa, Glatorian, and Agori of all kinds, some on solid ground while others perched in the surrounding trees, creating a circular wall of eyes all trained on the visitors.  Zaekura felt like she was trying to walk underwater.

“Okay, everyone’s here!  Go on, Zaekura.”

“Right, of course.  Um…”

She found herself unable to recall the words she had prepared.  Charla set a hand on her shoulder then, reminding her to breathe, and she was able to relax a little.

“First of all,” Zaekura said, “I’d like to thank you all for welcoming us.  It isn’t lost on me how out of the ordinary this gesture is, nor the implicit risk my being here carries.  My name is Zaekura.  Up until recently, I lived a very quiet life...but now, the Great Beings have it out for me, since I’m one of the rare few who possess the same potential as them.  I’ve had to fight to defend myself, and it’s been…quite an adjustment.  But now I realize this isn’t just about me.  Countless lives have been destroyed by the Great Beings, and countless more live in constant fear of them.  And I want that to end.  So now, we’re fighting to stop the Great Beings and take control of Spherus Magna, to reform it into a place where nobody has to live in fear.”

Quiet murmurings rippled through the crowd.  To Zaekura, it was nearly deafening.

“I know that I can’t do something like this on my own, so I’m asking for help from anyone who’ll listen.  We’ve approached you because we think Bota Magna’s natural resources would be a big help to our cause, but if anyone wants to join the fight, we’ll gladly take you.  No matter what, though, I want you all to know this: you are welcome any time.  Even if I go back empty-handed, each and every one of you will be free to come and go from my territory as you please, and we’ll fight just as hard to defend you.  I don’t need anything in return for that.”

The chattering grew louder.  Kiina emerged from the crowd then, saying, “You say you’ll defend us?  How do you plan to do that?  You’re provoking the Great Beings, fighting nonstop against an insurmountable enemy.  That doesn’t sound safe in the slightest.”

Zaekura breathed.  “I understand your concern.  There will absolutely be risk, I won’t deny that.  Our current forces include several Makuta, a few hundred Rahkshi, the militia of both Xia and Mahri-Nui, and a large number of Vorox under the command of the Sand Lord.  Several individuals have already requested to be part of a team dedicated to protecting Bota Magna, if you’ll have them.”

Kiina grumbled—not a very clear response, but it was the only one she offered.  Taipu was next to emerge, waving and calling, “Hey, Zaekura!  Did you get a chance to try out Nuparu’s invention yet?”

She smiled.  “I was able to take a look at it and test it out.  That’s one impressive machine!  We’re still working to reproduce and install them, but we should be using it in a matter of days.  Thanks again, Nuparu.”

Taipu shook Nuparu, who tried to hide his grin.  Zaekura waited while the chatter continued.  Soon, Takua came forward, saying, “I can’t speak for everyone, but...I think you make a pretty good case, Zaekura.  The fact is, we are living in fear—I don’t think that’ll change much whether we stay here or come back to the city.  Being that close to the fight is definitely scary, so I understand why someone might prefer to stay here.  But, a chance to change things, to make a future where we don’t feel like we have to hide...that sounds pretty good too.  If you show me a team that I’m convinced can keep Bota Magna safe, I’ll be willing to fight alongside you.”

New energy rushed into Zaekura.  “Thank you!  I’ll bring them out to meet with you as soon as possible!”

The Le-Koronans talked amongst themselves.  Taipu and Nuparu came into the clearing, the former saying, “We’re definitely coming back with you!  This is so exciting!”

Gradually, more and more Le-Koronans followed suite.  One of them, a Toa of Earth with weathered black and purple armor, came up to Zaekura and smiled at her.

“I can tell that you have a good heart, dear,” she said.  “I’m a bit too attached to these woods to leave now, but I want to offer you what help I can.”

“Oh, thank you very much, uh…”

“The name’s Korgot, dear.  I’ve become very familiar with the lay of the land here, so if you’re looking for spots to mine or to log, I’ve got a few in mind.  Just promise me you won’t overdo it.  The people are important, but we have to take care of the jungle itself, too.”

“Korgot.  Yes, I promise.  Thank you so much!”

They briefly discussed when would be a good time to send a mining team, and then Zaekura answered the questions of a few more Le-Koronans until it seemed everyone’s decision had been made.  She gazed over them all, ultimately turning to Charla.

“I’d say this went well.”

Charla giggled.  “I’m inclined to agree.  Is there anything more you wanted to add, or do we just have that final matter?”

Zaekura glanced back at Emsar, and the Vortixx came to her side.  Turning back towards the Le-Koronans remaining behind, she said, “There’s one last thing before we go.  I wanted to let you know that Emsar here is venturing deeper into Bota Magna; she’ll be fine on her own, I just didn’t want anyone to be surprised if they saw her.”

Takua looked up at Emsar.  “Alright.  Where’s she headed, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Valwahi.”

The clearing grew eerily still.  Quietly, Takua repeated, “Valwahi?”

Zaekura nodded.  “Like I said, I’m asking anyone who’ll listen.”

“Do you think they will?  The Valwahans aren’t exactly the most understanding bunch.”

“I have to try.  Even if we can’t become allies, maybe I can at least make peace with them—that’d be one huge load off my plate when getting things in order once this is all over.  Though, I could be thinking a little far ahead with that...”

“Heh...I guess a little optimism doesn’t have to hurt.”  Facing Emsar, Takua said, “Good luck, then.  Don’t hesitate to ask for help if things go wrong.”

“Much appreciated, but you needn’t worry about me,” Emsar said.  “I’m quite prepared should events take a dire turn.”

The Le-Koronans began to scatter, as did Emsar.  Antroz said, “Emsar.  Please do be careful.”

She grinned back at her.  “You too, Makuta?  I thought you of all people would know better.  Your lack of faith in me is demoralizing.”

“It is precisely because I have faith in you that I’m letting you go alone.  This is something that only you can do.”

Emsar paused, then turned away.  “Hmhm...you’re still no fun.”  She disappeared before anything else could be said.  

Zaekura turned back to her party, now far larger than the one she had entered with. “Alright.  Let’s get everyone back to Xia!”

“Um…”

She realized Tamaru had come up behind her.  “What’s up?”

Tamaru fidgeted, eyes scanning back and forth over the dirt.  “I, uh...I’ve been giving it a lot of thought...I didn’t say anything before because I hadn’t really decided, but now, I…”  She shut her eyes tight.  “I-I want to come with you!”

“Really?  If you need more time to think, that’s okay.”

Tamaru shook her head.  “No...I need to go before I lose my nerve.  I mean, I am nervous, but...if I can really be myself around everyone...I guess I feel like I just have to know.”

Zaekura nodded.  “I’ll do whatever I can to help.  Are you ready to go?”

After taking one last look back into the jungle, Tamaru nodded.  “Yeah.  Let’s go!”

***

Hewkii raced down the field, battling for control of the ball with a Toa of Earth.  He pulled back his kolhii stick; the Toa of Earth, expecting him to knock the ball forward, shifted his weight to block.  Hewkii then swung his stick around, hit the ball back the way they had come, and immediately leapt back to scoop it up.

“The Hydruka’s Hewkii has finally wrested the ball away from Dosne!  He’s headed right for Kazi, and the Iconox Iron Wolves’ goalie sure doesn’t look ready for him!”

Hewkii carefully observed the Toa of Ice he needed to aim around.  Kazi was laser-focused, but stiff in his movements.  He could hear Dosne approaching—at the last second, he threw the ball with all the force he could muster, and it sailed just past Kazi to the cheers of the crowd.

In a special balcony high up the arena’s wall, Ekimu laughed at the spectacle.   “That Hewkii’s pretty good!  Maybe I shouldn’t kill him after all.”

Standing next to him, Ahkmou chuckled.  He busied himself jotting down notes for an article, but his thoughts were elsewhere.  This is the opposite of what I wanted.  The tournament was supposed to distract these common idiots from the rebellion, but everyone’s heard that Hewkii’s defected—with him center stage, I’m sure it’s all they’re thinking about!

He joined Ekimu’s cheer as another ball was set into play.

Sure, no one’s stupid enough to speak out while Lord Ekimu is right here, but that’s ignoring the bigger picture.  This is long-term, delicate work.  If I don’t think of something fast, it’s all going to go right down the drain…

Hewkii leapt in to intercept Dosne’s shot.  Swinging around, he then sent the ball flying back across the court, catching Kazi completely by surprise.  The crowd roared.

“Incredible!” the announcer cried.  “The Mahri-Nui Hydruka have won by a landslide!  Looks like they’ll be moving onto the next round, folks!  I know I don’t want to be the team unlucky enough to go up against them!”

Ekimu applauded with the crowd, but his hands steadily fell still.  “Alright, game’s over.  You can come out now.”

Ahkmou looked over his shoulder, expecting to see one of the Makuta coming to join them.  But he couldn’t quite make out what he was looking at.  The shadows in the balcony moved strangely, almost as if they had a will of their own, refusing to surrender the visitor to the light; all Ahkmou could see clearly was an organic purple face with numerous ridges over where a nose and mouth should have been.  Confused and terrified at the sight, Ahkmou could only remain silent.

“Forgive the intrusion, Lord Ekimu,” the face said.  “We wanted to consult with you, to clarify our orders before acting.”

Ekimu continued to watch the field as the two teams exited.  “Who are you?”

“I am Eliminator, of Odina.  The Keeper’s realized that the operatives sent previously failed to carry out Lord Heremus’s orders, so my partner and I have been dispatched to rectify the situation.”

“So that’s it.  You want Hewkii, I take it?”

Eliminator’s face moved, the shadows moving with it.  “He seemed like a good place to start...but, since you haven’t intervened thus far, we suspected you had another plan.”

“I wouldn’t say that.  I just don’t want the kolhii tournament interrupted.  Once his team’s done, take him if you want.”

Ahkmou jumped as a sudden burst of energy appeared in the space next to Eliminator.  The energy grew into a swirling portal, and out of it stepped another being: he was tall, at least twice the height of a Matoran, clad in blue and gold armor that shone through the darkness that clung to his companion.  Ahkmou didn’t recognize the gold mask he wore, but he found his eyes more drawn to the enormous double blade he carried.

Kneeling, he said, “If I may, Lord Ekimu.  I think there is a much more fruitful route we can take.”

Ekimu grunted.

“Once the tournament has concluded, we will see that Hewkii and his team remain here in Civitas Magna...and be sure that the whole planet knows it.  I have heard that Zaekura is quite the bleeding heart, and I am certain that if she knows one of her allies is being held here, she will march in an effort to save him.  Once we have lured her in, Eliminator and I will capture her and bring her to Lord Heremus—what happens to her associates will be no concern of ours then.”

“So we bait her out.  What was your name?”

The being grinned.  “I am Brutaka, my lord.”

At this, Ekimu finally turned around.  After staring at Brutaka for a few moments, he said, “I thought you sounded familiar.  Good.  If you’re here, then the Keeper must be done messing around.”

The crowd began to cheer as new teams took the field.

“Go ahead,” Ekimu said as he turned back to watch.  “As long as you don’t make a move before the tournament’s over, I couldn’t care less.”

Brutaka nodded.  “Of course, Lord Ekimu.  If you’ll excuse us.”

Another portal opened, and Brutaka disappeared into it.  Eliminator was already gone by the time Ahkmou turned to look.  Facing the field once again, the Toa thought, Odinans...and they’re going to draw Zaekura here...how am I going to cover that up?  Can our public opinion survive something like this?  If we lose control of the people…

“Ahkmou.”

The Toa started.  “Y-Yes, my lord?”

“You’re nervous.”

“Ah...I was just shaken by such a sudden arrival.  I’m sorry, my lord: I’ll focus on my job.”

“Good.”

Ahkmou watched as two new teams met in the center of the field.  If we lose control of the people...then that means I failed to do what the Great Beings asked.  What will happen to me then?

Outside the stadium, Gaaki and Tarduk regrouped near the south entrance.  Flipping through her notes, Gaaki said, “Well, that should be enough of a sample size.  Any favorites among the people you asked?”

Tarduk squatted next to the wall with a sigh.  “The Hydruka are the talk of the town, surprise surprise.  Remains to be seen if Ahkmou will even let us publish all this.”

“Same on my end.  A couple of die-hards for the other teams, but they hardly have enough to say to fill a feature.  A full day’s work and we’re probably going to end up with a block under the horoscopes…”

Tarduk craned his neck.  A particularly dense section of crowd had gathered on the other side of the street, thick enough that he couldn’t see exactly what had drawn them.  He went to push his way closer, Gaaki following for lack of any other distraction, but the Ga-Matoran soon began to fall behind.  Glancing back at her, Tarduk saw that her eyes had gone wide.

“What’s the matter?” Tarduk asked.

“You mean you don’t…”  She shook her head.  “Er, right, you can’t see from here.  Come on!”

Gaaki dove into the crowd.  Tarduk began to have second thoughts, but, figuring it was too late now, went in after her.  At the epicenter was a Toa of Stone wearing a Komau, with various stone carvings laid out before him on a blanket.  The sign behind him made the Agori stiffen: “CARVINGS FOR SALE!  ALL PROFITS HELP NYNRAHN REFUGEES!”

“Gaaki,” Tarduk said, grabbing her by the arm.

“I’m just looking,” she said, picking up a small carving.

“With your hands?”

“Yes.”

The Toa of Stone turned towards them.  “Anything you’re interested in?” Gaaki set the carving down.  “Just browsing.  This is impressive work, uh…”

“Onewa.”

“Onewa...oh, you made the statue they added to District 2458’s historical center!”

“So someone does remember!  Maybe that commission was worth it after all.”  He turned away for a moment to make a sale.

“What brings you here?” Tarduk asked.

“I’m an old friend of one of the players in the tourney.  You know Hewkii?”

Tarduk stiffened further.  “...I’ve heard quite a lot about him.”

“We go way back.  Though, I ended up not being able to get a ticket...but, at least I have a chance to sell some of this work.  We need all the help we can get.”

Gaaki prepared to ask something.  Tarduk tugged on her arm.  She debated continuing anyway, but then the crowd began to quiet, and they both turned to see why.  Their spines turned to ice at the sight of Vamprah cutting through the masses.

“Ah,” Onewa said, climbing to his feet, “that took longer than expected.  Not the Makuta I was prepared for, either.”

Vamprah stalked forward without a word.  Just as Onewa was about to say something more, the Makuta snatched him up in his claws and hurled him against the arena wall.  Total stillness fell over the crowd.  Turning to the remaining carvings, Vamprah waved one hand and unleashed a burst of Plasma, melting them in a matter of seconds.  Then, he turned around to see Onewa slowly getting to his feet.

“Heh...you live up to your reputation,” the Toa said.  Blood could be seen dripping from the gashes left in his armor.  “Guess that’s what I get for pushing my luck, huh?”

Vamprah advanced towards him again.  Tarduk struggled to keep Gaaki still.

“But...I’m not gonna make it that easy for you.”  Onewa took something in his hand, a pellet of some kind, and grinned as he crushed it.  In the next instant, he was gone.

Vamprah froze.  He scanned his surroundings, but saw no trace of his target.  Giving one last look to the crowd, Vamprah unfurled his wings and took to the skies, slowly coasting towards the inner city.  Gradually, the crowd scattered, while Gaaki just stood staring at the still-warm slag that had been beautiful carvings mere seconds ago.

“He got out,” Tarduk said.

“Yeah...this time.  But with Vamprah hunting the Nynrahns, their chances look pretty bleak, don’t they?”

Tarduk sighed.  “What can we actually do, Gaaki?  If we step out of line, we’re going to disappear just like Kodan.”

“I know!”  Gaaki turned and rubbed her temples.  After a bit of thought, she said, “Tarduk...don’t tell Ahkmou we were here to see this.”

The Agori raised an eyebrow.  “Why not?”

Gaaki locked eyes with him.  “Please, just don’t.  He can’t know.  If he does...then nobody else will.”

It took Tarduk a long time to decide on his answer.  “Alright.  But there’s nothing else I can do to help you, Gaaki.  Terrible as things are getting, I just don’t see an opening yet…”

Gaaki nodded.  They parted ways then, Tarduk heading into the stadium while Gaaki found a secluded bench to rest on.  She glanced around, making sure no one was looking, and then pulled at the corner of her breastplate, opening it just long enough to remove a small crystal she quickly tucked into her bag.

A few witnesses are easy to dismiss.  But if everyone sees what happened, then at the very least they’ll have to work a lot harder to lie.  I’ll need to be careful about exactly what footage I use...but by this time tomorrow, I’ll make sure everyone can see the truth.

[lollercakesff]

And They Were Strangers

Jyn Erso has been prepping for this for months. Years even, if you count the endless hours she'd spent running pools and hosting watch nights with her college roommates. She'd choreographed hundreds of dollars in auctions for remaining teams and had led multiple nights where her and her friends cooked their way around the world with the country of the week. The memories were great, sure, but to say she didn't feel a connection with this path in her life would be a lie. Something drew her in, tied her up, and convinced her that this - this - was the thing she needed to do before she died.

And now it was time. She was ready. Mentally… Physically… Hopefully.

AN: Will I finish writing this? I have a plan... But is it worth my time?

But the path to her next adventure was currently being blocked by some too-tall goon with haphazard hair and piercing dark eyes who kept getting in her way. First at check in, then in line for security, and now at the boarding gate. They’d practically been together, crossing paths and crashing each other, since she entered this damn airport and it was starting to really get to her. 

"Are you planning on getting on this plane or just standing in the way?" Jyn growls under her breath when the man doesn't move forward with the gate agent's call.

"What - Oh," he leaps forward a step and hustles towards the woman, pulling his passport from his pocket as Jyn sighs and checks her papers again. 

Her new American passport feels heavy in her hand, its empty pages a sign of things to come. She was on her way to Los Angeles where she was scheduled to show up at her first and only briefing for the next season of the Amazing Race. The producers had promised a full day of orientation covering the rules of the race and how the team match up would work before the "trip of a lifetime" began the next day. She was trying not to stress about it but she didn't quite know what she was getting into. 

This was the first season where every team in the race would be a set of strangers. They'd all meet at the briefing but it wouldn't be until the start of the race when they'd learn who their partner was. The producers had billed it as the season of 'fate' where they tried to pick a winning team by pure dumb luck with names drawn from a hat. Or so she'd been told. Who knew how it would really work.

"Next!" The agent calls and Jyn scurries forward, passing her documents over and brushing her bangs from her face. In another second she's motioned through and she's heading down the gangway and onto the plane. 

When she gets to her seat her frustration returns tenfold as the man from before has settled himself in her seat by the window, his seatbelt already clipped and his attention turned towards the action on the tarmac. 

"Hey, you're in my seat," she greets, stuffing her duffle in the overhead bin.

"F? Window?" He answers with an almost-accent and a quirk to his lips. Jyn frowns and steps into the row to let the people behind her pass.

"Yes. That's my seat, can you move please?" 

"I was sure I had the window, I feel claustrophobic if I can't see out - "

"Yeah, I'm sure. Can you check your boarding pass?" She asks, cutting his sob story off before it can even get started. 

"Can't I just have it this one time? It's a short flight," he answers, making no move to relent. Jyn sighs and drops into the seat next to him, her eyes closing tight as she urges the irritation to ease. 

"Fine. But this is bad karma and I hope it comes back to bite you in the ass, asshole," she grumbles the last part, determined to insult him but not loud enough to cause a scene. The man coughs as if to hide a laugh and Jyn hates him even more, pulling up her hood and taking out her headphones.

She was going to spend the next two hours in a music haven, mentally far from this man and the constant bumping of her elbow that came from sitting in the aisle row. Soon she'd be in LA at her hotel and then she'd be on to a new country, with a new language and culture that she'd have to work with to get her team to the finish line. Then she’d do it again and again until they won. Or they lost. She didn't like to think about that last possibility so instead she closes her eyes and hits play.

---

The hotel bed is more luxurious than anything she's ever slept in in her life and when she wakes it's with a curse as she realizes she's almost late to the briefing. Hustling around the room, she nearly crashes onto the floor when her pants get tangled and she loses her balance. Cursing out her alarm, her beautiful sleep, and the time difference, Jyn pulls on her t-shirt just as she pulls open her door and slams into someone walking past her room.

"Shit, sorry!” She gasps as she rights herself and pulls back. When she looks up it’s to find the man from the plane. The one who wouldn’t give her back her seat. The one who’d been a pain in the ass all day. “You!” The man’s eyes widen and he looks around him like he’s being Punk’d, surprise in his brow. 

“From the plane?” He counters, as if he was still struggling to place her. 

“Yeah. What, are you following me? How did you know to find me here?” Jyn growls, crossing her arms. The man cocks his head and furrows his brow, looking at her as though she was crazy. 

“Follow you? I’m here for… A thing that has nothing to do with you. If anything, I’d think you’re stalking me,” he adds sharply. Jyn scowls and shakes her head, her watch beeping with her five minute alarm. 

“Sure. Fine, whatever. I won’t be here long enough to have this happen again. Have a good life!” She shouts as she hurries off down the hall, her hand flung up into the air and her middle finger pointed towards him. 

She takes the stairs down to the conference room because getting stuck in the elevator with that jerk would put her nerves over the edge, their already frayed status from the late wakeup making her more punchy than usual. By the time she barrels into the room and grabs a plate of the breakfast, the producer is calling everyone to a seat. 

Jyn moves towards an empty chair and begins measuring up her fellow racers, her eyes drifting over one person and then the next as they settle in a semi-circle around the speaker. Some of them were incredibly fit, others a bit paunchy but she figured they could probably take her in a memory challenge or two if it came down to it. Most of them were on the younger side, maybe in their twenties or thirties, though there were a few who easily slotted into their fifties at the very least. She didn’t want to be ageist but she secretly hoped she’d get paired with someone who could keep up with her at the very least and she didn’t really peg any of these older folks as marathoners. 

“Welcome, good morning everyone!” A young woman calls out, drawing their attention to the front of the room. Jyn sits up and nimbles on a muffin, trying to look intimidating to the others around her who she assumed were doing the measuring up as she had just been. 

“You’re in my seat,” a voice says over her shoulder. Jyn’s stomach drops and she frowns, looking back to find the man from the airplane and the hallway standing behind her. “Don’t worry though, I’m not going to make you move, I’ll just take this empty one here.” 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jyn hisses, clenching her hands and nearly crushing her muffin to pieces. 

“Nope,” he responds as he sits in the chair next to her. An insult is on the tip of her tongue when the woman calls out again and really takes control of the room, beginning with a welcome spiel before moving right into the security briefing. After the team has explained every terrifying aspect about the world in explicit detail, Jyn looks around the room and finds half of the contestants with a concerned look on their faces, the other half grinning wickedly at the challenge. Beside her the man keeps his expression reserved though his eyes are calculating, the look making her guess whether he was regretting his choice or simply bored. 

After the welcome session, they’re broken up into groups of four and are led to a table in the corner of the room. Jyn sighs a breath of relief as the man is placed in another group, his presence finally dissipating and allowing her to focus on the tasks at hand instead of the prickling skin she felt whenever he was close. 

Hours pass and the contestants are moved around the room to different stations where they focus on different aspects of the game. There’s logic tests and geography quizzes which she passes with flying colours but when it comes to the language skills and memory games she flounders, her attention twisting towards her fellow contestants. She spends half the time trying to measure up where they stand on these activities, who would be best suited to the way she wanted to run this race. 

Her strategy - based on years of watching the show - was to run with brute force. She would power through on the physical challenges and when it came to figuring out a puzzle she was set. She just needed a partner who would be able to keep up and rush into everything just as hard. Smarts weren’t what won you the race, it was being able to push your way through anything and she had trained to do just that. 

“Everyone now has an hour for lunch. Feel free to get to know each other and remember, these folks might be your competition or they might just be the person you cross that finish line with!” The producer from earlier calls as the stations are closed and the participants are left to loiter in the room. 

Jyn feels like she’s in a social experiment as she beelines towards the food table to take a plate. She loads it up with everything she’s going to miss for the next few weeks - caesar salad and french fries and pasta salad that looked too delicious to miss. When she settles at a table she’s quickly joined by a handful of others, the conversation easily picking up from the morning activities.

“I’m Bodhi Rook, you?” The man sitting next to her says around a forkful of salad. Jyn looks him over quickly and notes his tall frame and long hair, his thin frame and open expression. He could be a good partner - she’d seen him race through some of the challenges with an efficiency she admired. 

“Jyn Erso,” she answers, lifting her hand to offer a shake. Bodhi takes it and squeezes it before turning back to his food, diving in as she looks around the table at the others. “You heard anything about how we’re going to be assigned teams?” She asks after a few minutes, her water lifting to her lips. 

“Not really. My group thought maybe the stations were to see where our strengths were so they could match us up better. But I was also told it would be a name in a hat, so who knows what they’re planning.” 

“Yeah, I heard the hat thing too. I hope there’s a little more thought put into it,” she responds with a shrug. Bodhi nods and lets a laugh escape. 

“Either way, I think I’ll be okay. I just like the adventure of it, you know? Don’t really need to win the whole thing,” he says around another bite. 

Jyn frowns and looks at her food, debating internally whether she could be paired with someone who didn’t want to win the whole race. If she had to admit it - though she’d never say it on camera - she wasn’t here just because she liked the show and wanted to see the world. 

She was here because she needed the prize money. 

The thought creeps up on her and she pushes it back down, stuffing it into her chest like too many clothes in a carry on bag. She didn’t have time to think about it now, not when she should be sizing up her competition and thinking about U-Turn and Yield strategy. No. She needed to focus. 

“What about everyone else?” Bodhi asks the table when Jyn still doesn’t respond. She turns her attention to the people around them, listening as first a bright eyed Luke Skywalker and a gruff Baze Malbus explain their motivations before moving on to Leia Organa, a beautiful but strategic thinker, and her cocky puppy-dog-tail for-the-day Han Solo easily admits he’s only here for the money. Jyn can’t help but think he might be her real competition if they don’t get paired together, the gleam of a quick buck in his eyes adding to his boisterous energy. 

Taking another glance around the room, Jyn weighs the rest of her competition as they sit at two other tables. Sixteen racers in total, all with different motivations and experiences that they bring to the table. They’d be eight teams and the producers had all but guaranteed it would be a tough race with all of them having secret strengths that were admitted in their bio videos. Jyn can’t remember what hers ss but by the time she turns back to the conversation at hand, she already knows one thing is for sure - she’s going to win, even if it kills her. 

After lunch they’re broken off into individual briefing rooms where they’re given their racing issued equipment and a final check in with the producers before they’re sent off to their rooms to pack. In the morning they’ll all be meeting in the lobby to hand over their backpacks before heading to the starting line. 

When the race starts their first activity will be finding their matched backpack with a coloured bandana tied to it. The racer with the matching bandana will be their partner for the duration and it will either be a successful match or a story of just how quickly Jyn can crash and burn their team. 

Throughout the evening she tries not to think about it - pushing away thoughts of how hectic tomorrow would be, how much adrenaline is already rolling in her veins and just how is she supposed to sleep tonight? To distract herself she focuses on potential strategies depending on who she paired with in the morning. Baze could work, or she’d even probably be successful with Han if they didn’t rip each other's heads off. Bodhi would be a great candidate - he seemed relaxed and competent, but Jyn didn’t like that he wasn’t driven by the final prize so much as he just wanted to have an adventure. 

No, she could pair with most of the people she’d met that morning. With the very real exception of the man from the plane who she’d learned was named Cassian Andor. There was no way they would be able to work together to even get out of the States, their partnership tanking before they even took their first flight. She was sure of it. And so when she falls asleep that night it’s to the thought that she had a one in fifteen chance of failing and those were pretty good odds. 

---

Morning comes in a rush of excitement and insanity and a paranoia that she’s forgotten something even though she’s checked her bags at least a dozen times. When she gets to the lobby, the assistants take her old bags and mark them with her tags before collecting her race bag and shoving it onto a luggage cart with the other packs. She’s directed to a holding queue where the racers mill about, snacking on the continental breakfast and filling their water bottles. 

Twenty minutes later and they’re piled onto a bus. Thirty minutes later and they’re being placed around an empty field with only the production crew circling them and a pile of luggage in the center of the field. Jyn thinks she spots her bag with a blue tag and she grins, looking around at the nervous faces she was up against. 

“You’ve got this,” she whispers to herself as Phil Keoghan begins his speech from near the luggage pile. Adrenaline spikes in her blood and then there’s a horn and she’s racing forward, scrambling for the luggage pile and her bag with its bandana looped through the arm. She pulls it free and stumbles back, looking around at the other racers as they take in their own colours, desperately looking for their partner. 

Not Bodhi. Not Baze. Fuck, not even Han. She scours the faces and colours until she sees it - blue, like hers! She steps forward, her smile widening having finally found her partner. 

But then she looks up. And her eyes meet her partner’s. 

Dark brown meeting green.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Guess you’re stuck with someone with bad karma,” he says evenly, the nerve of it making her want to pull her hair out. She curses again and grabs for his arm, dragging him towards the clue box for their next instructions. They didn’t have time to waste on pleasantries and witty comebacks, not if they wanted to win. 

She could do this. Brute force was all it would take, right? 

[yikesharringrove]

drummer!billy fucks steve after robin drags him to billy’s band’s concert at the gay bar and he swears he hates the band until he sees billy... please :)

I’m so hot for drummers I became one. That’s TRUE.

This is some modern lovin’.

Also I have a friend in a vegan eco-punk folk band and they fucking suck.

Pansy Division is a real queercore band they are AMAZING super recommend they have a song called Fem in a Black Leather Jacket that I can SO see Billy singing to femme!Steve to be teasing one day.

Queer Bar is the name of a REAL BAR my friends and I (used to, thanks Miss Corona) go to to watch drag performers and queer punk bands.

Ayoo3

Porn Porn.

Steve didn’t go to a lot of concerts.

He didn’t do great in sweaty crowds, and the loud music would leave his ears ringing for days. But Robin would still drag him out to see her friends’ shitty bands play at shitty dive bars.

“You have to come. It’ll be fun. They’re actually, like good.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“That’s what you said about the last two bands, Rob. And they fucking sucked.”She had dragged him to some house show for her friend in a vegan eco-punk folk band which is apparently a thing that exists in this world, and they sucked. It was like someone screaming about global warming over a Bon Iver song. It made Steve want to actively go out and litter.

“What’s the genre?”

“Queercore. You can listen to them! They have an album on Spotify that’s done pretty okay. They’re called Pansy Division.” Steve gave her a cold look as he pulled them up. He listen to their three most popular songs, That’s So Gay was a pissed off track about people using the word gay as a derogatory. Fem in a Black Leather Jacket was self explanatory, and Luv Luv Luv was a more chilled out song, but the lyrics were all about how love isn’t real and “we’re all just animals at the core”. Steve was sold.

“Where are they playing.” Robin grinned at him.

“Queer Bar.” Steve groaned. Queer Bar was small. A divey place that got hot and sticky. Steve didn’t like going as he always left covered in spilled drinks, and other people’s sweat, and had hooked up with three of the bartenders and just didn’t really wanna deal with all that.

“I don’t know, Robin. You know I don’t like Queer Bar.”

“You like it just fine. You’re just a slut. You do realize that if we could only go to bars where you haven’t fucked one of the employees, we would have like, five bars to choose from.”

“Don’t slut shame me. I am a young flower, who must dance on the wind and take a dip in every pond.” Robin stared at him.

“Steve that makes no fucking sense. Just admit you’re a sloppy whore and let’s move on.”

“Fine. I’m a sloppy whore. So when is this terrible night scheduled?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Robin!”

“Dingus!”

“You couldn’t’ve given me some notice?”

“You’re getting like, thirty hours of notice right now.” She rolled her eyes. Steve always told her one of these days they were gonna fall right outta her head.

“You are a nightmare and the bane of my existence and I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate you.” Steve deadpanned. She leaned over on the couch to smack a wet kiss to his cheek.

“And you should probably bring condoms. These guys are just your type.”

-

“So, that’s what you’re wearing?” Steve just glared at her.

“If you’re dragging me to this thing, I at least want to be comfortable.” He was wearing short denim cutoffs, ones she had cutoff for him. They were high-waisted, and he tucked a baggy Jane’s Addiction t-shirt he had stolen from his ex-boyfriend into them. He had just done a little eye shadow and smoked liner.

Robin was in a black body-con dress, her old brown leather jacket over her shoulder, but her arms were not in the sleeves. It was very fashiony of her. Steve tugged on a red bomber jacket.

They would be meeting Robin;s girlfriend, Heather, at the bar. Apparently she was friends with someone in the band.

“Let’s go, Dingus.” Robin was holding The front door to Steve’s apartment, swinging it between both hands. He pinched her side as he walked past.

They had to take a Lyft to Queer Bar, another reason it was the worst. It wasn’t in walking distance. Their driver was this quiet guy who wouldn’t stop staring at Robin, even when she loudly started talking about her girlfriend. Steve only gave him four stars, a serious deal for Steve, who would probably give five stars even if the driver fucking murdered him.

Steve had met Heather quite a few times, and he liked her. She was cute, and easy to talk to, and made Robin so happy, but she also kept talking about Billy and how he was going to come out with them later, and kept winking at Robin.

They traipsed into the bar, Steve ducking to avoid one of the bartenders he had slept with. The guy had been real clingy after and asked Steve to get breakfast while Steve was trying to get dressed and get outta there.

So, they’re in the club, and it’s about time for the band, well, it’s twenty minutes after time for the band, and Steve is tired and is nursing a vodka cranberry and has been hit on more than he wanted tonight.

But then the band is taking the stage, and Steve is ready to lose his mind at this perfect specimen taking his place behind the drums.

He had tattoos on nearly every inch of skin Steve could see, his arms, his legs, his neck. He was putting his long hair into a ponytail, a few curls escaping and settling around his face. He was laughing at something the bassist was saying to him, twirling his stick in one hand.

“Heather’s friends with the drummer. His name is Billy.” Robin was giving him a knowing look.

The band was pretty good. Played a lot of loud songs. People were slam dancing around the front, far from where Steve was standing, watching the drummer. He really fucking whacked the drums, broke about three sticks during the hour set. He was all sweaty. Would play with a big grin on his face, blue eyes crinkled, tongue between his face.

By the time they finished their set, Steve was sporting a half-chub in his shorts, was rearing to get fucked by this gorgeous drummer.

“What did you think!” Heather was beaming at him.

“Yeah, they’re okay.” Robin rolled her eyes.

“So, we’re just waiting for Billy, then we can get outta here.” Steve’s heart stopped. He had fucking forgotten they would be hanging out with this perfect Billy.

He came up behind Heather, picking her up from behind, laughing loud and beautiful.

“Stop, Billy! You smell like shit!” He rubbed his head onto her neck, making her slap at him. He released her, turning those eyes on Steve. He put out a hand.

“Billy Hargrove.” He took both of Steve’s hands in his, made him blush.

“Steve Harrington. I’m a friend of Robin’s.” Billy ran his tongue along his teeth, looking Steve up and down.

They ended up going to a club and getting hammered. Steve danced pressed against Billy, ended up laying on the bar while Billy led a few random guys in taking body shots off of Steve.  He ended up making out with Billy in a dark corner, hands roaming until

“My place is close by. You wanna get outta here?” Steve shivered as Billy rasped in his ear.

“Yeah, let’s go.” They found Robin, who slapped Steve on the ass as he left, tucked under Billy’s arm. They walked a few blocks to Billy’s place, a little apartment over a Thai restaurant. It was cozy, had posters all over the walls, and lots of plants. He had a fat little cat he introduced as my chonker, Diablo.

They made out on the couch for a while, but then Diablo started yowling at Billy, so Billy hefted Steve up, and tossed him on the bed, refilling the cat’s water. Steve wrestled out of his clothes as he could hear Billy cooing to his cat in the kitchen.

“Holy shit you’re hot.” Billy shut the door behind him, staring at Steve, spread out and naked on his bed. “Heather said you were just my type.” Billy came to the bed, crawled over Steve, settling his wight over him. Steve reached up, tugging his hair out of the ponytail.

Billy ducked to kiss him, nudging his thighs open. He leaned to dig through the night table, brought out a bottle of lube and a condom.

Tattooed fingers nudged at his hole, rubbed lube around the rim. Steve started tugging at his shirt, making Billy laugh while he had to tangle it off of himself.

“Relax, Pretty Boy.” Steve whined as Billy went back to circling his hole, so he pressed in. He pressed up to the knuckle, curling his finger. He fucked it in and out of him slowly for a while, pumping his finger in and out.

He pressed another in, curling and spreading his fingers, stretching Steve out.

Steve took hold of his wrist, angling his hand.

“Curl you fingers.” Billy smirked at him, curling his fingers. Steve jolted as they shoved into his sensitive little nerves.

“You know just what you want, don’t you?” Billy was mouthing at his chest, sucked a dark mark on his left pec. “Not afraid to ask for it, either.”

He was drilling into Steve with his fingers, fucking him roughly with his hand, bending his fingers, opening them up. Steve was gasped, his legs opening even wider. He added another finger, pouring more lube over his hand, over Steve’s hole.

“I’m ready, just fuck me.” Steve’s eyes were wide, being sure to pout just the way he knew guys liked, voice all perfect and whiny.

“You’re bossy is what you are.” Billy added another finger, making Steve cry out at the stretch. “Think you can cum on just my fingers? I think I’d like that.” He bite gently at Steve’s nipple, making him arch into his chest, pushing his hips down onto Billy’s fingers.

“I want you cock. Please, just fuck me. Please, please.” Billy grinned, resting his chin on Steve’s chest, speeding his hand up, jack hammering it into Steve. “Holy fu-uck.” Steve came all over himself, choking around a few breathy moans.

“That was hot. You’re gorgeous.” Billy pulled his fingers out gently, letting Steve catch his breath while he took off his jeans, tossing them on the floor. Steve took extra notice of the lack of any underwear.

Billy was hard, his cock flushed red against his stomach. He rolled on a condom, settling himself between Steve’s legs, spread wide.

“You ready for me?” Billy was stroking Steve’s cock, smirking as Steve whined, oversensitive. Steve modded, wiggling his hips, whimpering for Billy to fuck him.

Billy pressed himself against Steve, holding his hips down as he gentled himself in, going slowly, inch by inch.

“You’re so tight Baby.” He was pressed flush to Steve, grinding his cock deeper, making Steve choke. He pulled out, immediately setting a brutal pace, sitting on his knees, one hand holding onto Steve’s upper thing, the other gripping his hip.

Steve was fisting the sheets under his head, clawing at them to try and hold on.

Billy was gorgeous above him, hair messy and wild, skin glistening, his muscles moving so beautifully under his tattooed skin.

Steve was hard again, trailed on hand down his body to wrap his fingers around his cock, jerking to the speed of Billy’s thrusts. He was getting close again, Billy was expertly hitting that sensitive little spot inside him, was panting and muttering about how hot Steve is, was making him whine and flush and fly closer to orgasm.

It hit him like a fucking train, making him cry out, adding to the mess on his stomach, tightening around Billy.

Billy gave one final grunt, slamming into Steve, emptying inside the condom. He caught his breath, staring down at Steve, running a finger through the spunk on his stomach, pressing it into Steve’s mouth, his eyes going dark as Steve moaned around his finger, eating his cum off it.

“You’re ridiculously fucking hot.” He huffed a laugh, pulling out of Steve to ditch the condom. “Now I actually owe Heather. That sucks.”

Steve laughed, slapping Billy’s chest.

[booklover41802]

Could you do a Jurdan fanfic where they reunite post During Jude’s banishment but pre-queen of nothing but Jude is on a date, or Cardan thinks some guy is courting Jude and he jealously glamours the guy to leave her alone. And it leads to angst?

Of course, lovely! Thank you for the request! It turned out a bit longer than I had anticipated, and I tweaked it a bit, but I’m happy with the result. I hope you enjoy it, as much as I loved writing it.

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Jude Durate, High Queen of Elfhame, Wife to Cardan Greenbriar, was on her seventh date with a human boy. The boy was sweet, the complete opposite of the folk in Faerie. The kind of boy you fell for slowly over time until you looked at him one day and realized that you were wholly and utterly in love with him. 

Jude was terrified of him. Vivi had set them up, wanting Jude to heal from the scars of Faerie, and during the month and a half she’d been in the mortal lands, she learned what people meant when they said your heart could be divided in two. Though she loved Cardan, he seemed like a dream, like she could never truly have him. Lucas was more real, more than a daydream. 

Attempting to be discreet, Jude slanted her eyes to study the boy walking next to her, chattering on about mundane things. He was averagely tall with sandy blonde hair and striking emerald eyes. He looked nothing like Cardan. In her eyes, that was all that mattered. He was a distraction, a bit of fun during her banishment. After all, her delightful husband was surely doing the same.

They were walking along the pier near a beach Jude had discovered during the month away from Faerie. It was a quiet spot, away from the worrying gaze of Vivi. The boy, Lucas, suddenly smiled at her shyly, a flush reddening his cheeks to a brilliant flame. “Would it be okay if I held your hand?”

Jude’s heart hammered in her chest, wondering what she was getting herself into. If she said no, his disappointment would simmer awkwardly between them. If she said yes… would it be a betrayal to her vows? She swallowed the phlegm in her throat, trying to shove away all thoughts of what this small gesture meant. Without giving herself a moment to second guess what she was doing, Jude forced her lips to upturn at the corners, as though she was pleased he asked. “I would like nothing more.” She stretched out her hand and laced his fingers with hers, secretly enjoying the feel of his smooth palm against her calloused one. Lucas’s eyes widened imperceptibly at her move. 

Wonderment filling his gaze, Lucas studied her scarred palm. “Where did you get this scar from?” He traced the scar she had received when she pledged her loyalty to Dain with reverence.

What was she to tell him? She couldn’t very well say that she had cut open her own palm in order to gain the protection of the Prince of Elfhame. He would think her mad, and then who knows what would happen to her. She would have to lie, as she did about most things. Her mortal ability to skirt around the truth came in handy once more. “Childhood accident. You know how kids are. Magnets for disaster!”

Lucas chuckled, the fading light of the sun hitting the golden flecks of his eyes as he turned his head towards her. “I know exactly what you mean!” His fingers danced over her scar lightly, lovingly while his other hand traced circles in the sand. “When I was six years old, and learning how to ride a bike, I lost control and crashed right into a big old maple tree! Cut open my arm horribly. My grandma almost had a heart attack with the amount of blood that was on me.” When he mentioned his grandma, his face took on a softened look, his full lips fondly turning up as he reminisced on the past. 

“Both of us are covered in scars, as the two accident prone children we were.” She was deflecting, she knew, from the truth. But it was the only way to keep him safe from her past. 

From the corner of her eye, Jude saw a Golden Retriever huddled up against a building, with the faint shimmer of wings hovering in her peripheral vision. Jude’s pace slowed down as the pixie tormenting the dog smirked at her, taunting her. Even now, far away from Court, her past continued to haunt her, reminding her how she did not fit into the mortal world. She would never be safe here.

Lucas, oblivious to the pixie and her racing thoughts, pointed out a landmark on the far side of the coast. “That lighthouse over there is where I lost my first tooth. I was so excited by the ships, I wiggled my loose tooth a little too hard. Blood gushed all over me, staining my favorite shirt. My parents fussed over me for days. I even had the tooth fairy visit me for the first time. Found a whole dollar underneath my pillow the next morning.”

The tooth fairy. Such a human tradition. Jude had never experienced it, as her parents had been murdered before her teeth fell out. 

A few people moved around the two of them on the sidewalk, not wanting to interfere with the moment they were having. Jude, not aware they would be seen by anybody, blushed fiercely. She looked away from the fond looks people threw her way, and pulled Lucas to a stop. She dragged him over to the sand, far away from the pixie, and made to sit down. Mercifully, he didn’t question it. “What are your parents like?” She asked, trying, and failing, to calm her nerves.

 “They were wonderful people from what I can remember. Every Saturday night they took me to the lighthouse to look at the ships docking in the harbor. My father worked there, and rarely left his post. The sea called to him, as it does to me.” Ships now were now pulling in, guided by the beam of light pouring out from the top of the lighthouse. Lucas watched the boats, a fascinated look taking over his features.

As the sun set over the horizon, glowing softly with pinks, purples, and oranges, gulls crying out in the distance, waves crashing against the beach, Jude felt a sense of peace settle over her, despite the pixie. With Lucas it was easy to feel safe, to let her mind drift away. In another life, she pictured herself with him. Forcing the words out around the memories of Cardan, she softly asked, “Have your parents died?”

With a rueful smile, Lucas looked up at the sky watching the seagulls circle overhead, his eyes far away. “Yeah. They died in a fire when I was eight. My grandparents raised me after that. It was hard to accept that they were gone for a while. I couldn’t even go to the lighthouse without thinking of them, of having the memories crash over me like the waves against the shore.” He was becoming detached, distant.

Jude did something she never expected herself to do. Gently, she took his hand out of hers, pulling his face towards her, so that they were eye to eye. “My parents died when I was seven. I guess we’re both orphans. I was raised by an… uncle after that with my two sisters. You’re not alone. Orphans always find each other, searching for a home in one another, hoping they will finally belong somewhere.”

The sea rocked against the sand, splashing the two of them with little droplets. Neither noticed, too lost in the depthless ache they felt deep in their chests. 

Reaching out a shaky hand, Lucas brushed away a stray strand of hair that was stuck against her cheek. “I think I’ve found my home.”

Knowing she was already damned, Jude leaned forward and drew Lucas into her arms, resting her chin on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. He smelled of cedar, the sea, with faint undercurrents of spices. She shut her eyes, relishing the feel of safety in his arms.

His breath tickled her ear as he moved towards her. “What was your childhood like? You never talk about it.” Immediately she stiffened, memories flashing by of a gentry member biting off the tip of her ring finger, another yanking her out from under a table at a revel and being tormented and glamoured, wearing rowan berries everywhere to avoid her mortality betraying her.

A childhood that was no childhood at all. 

“It was a childhood like no other,” she choked out. 

He pulled back, grasping her forearms and looking into her eyes, brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry if I hit a sore subject, I only wish to know you more.”

Before she could answer she was hit with the scent of roses, citrus and the overwhelming smell of wine. There was only one being with that aroma that she knew. Cardan.

Sure enough, there he glided behind her on the sand, his black eyes boring into her, burning her like a brand. His tail peeked out from his trousers, gently swaying in the wind. A cruel grin bedecked his face, as he narrowed in on the boy who held her in his arms. 

“Jude?” Lucas asked, drawing her gaze away from her husband. Gods. Her husband. The King of Elfhame was here. In the mortal lands. And here she was, on a date.

“Sorry, I-I think I’m getting tired.” Behind Lucas’s back, Cardan snickered.

Lucas nodded, eyes roving over her too bright eyes, the fake smile adorning her lips. “Before we turn in, I have something for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes. Just a moment.” Reaching in the back pocket of his pants, Lucas drew out a necklace with a sterling silver ring hung on the chain. The ring twisted around a small pearl, edged with small gems placed around the base. The ring was simple, beautiful. Perfect. 

She was speechless. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” But just as she said it, the raven haired boy from her past crept into her vision, patiently waiting for her to go over to him. Lucas didn’t notice, too lost in Jude to see anything beyond. 

Lucas gently swung the necklace around Jude’s throat, carefully securing the latch. He lifted up the hair that was trapped by the chain. Jude smiled softly at the gift, and at the boy who had given it to her without a second thought, attempting to block out Cardan so she could remember this moment without the stain of Faerie. “I found the pearl when I was out at sea a few weeks ago, and I thought of you. I made it myself last night. It’s a promise necklace, since I didn’t know what size ring you wore. A promise that, one day, we’ll be married.”

Jude’s smile slipped off her face. “Marriage?” Unbeknownst to him, she was already married to another, her heart belonged to another. In another life, perhaps, this could have worked, but things being the way they were, it wouldn’t last. She had duties and promises to fulfill.

Behind them, Cardan had gone stone-still, his tail twitching back and forth. A strange light filled his eyes, the golden ring around his pupil disappearing, his mouth set in a hard line. It was an odd sight to see. Cardan standing on the sand on a mortal beach with his extravagant clothing studded with gems and jewels, his crown perched haphazardly on his head. Of course he brought his crown, as though he was reminding Jude of who he was. If any mortals noticed him, they didn’t let on. He must have been glamoured, for everyone casually flowed around him as though he wasn’t even there.

Lucas twisted around to see why Jude kept looking over his shoulder, and found nothing, for he couldn’t see the ghost from her past. “What do you keep looking at? Have I moved too fast?” He turned to look at her once more, a heartbreaking expression on his face. The confusion hurt Jude as she could never tell him the truth. Never let him know who she really was, and where she had come from.

“Just-Just a dog. I like dogs, that’s all.”

Carefully Lucas reached for her forearms and pulled her towards him until they were mere feet apart. Cardan moved closer.

“Jude. I’m sorry if I’ve startled you with my declarations. It’s just that I know you’re what I want. I know I’ve only known you for a little over a month, but with each passing day I fall in love with you a little bit more. Your wit, your intellect, your dimples, that look you get when you think no one is looking, when you look happy and relaxed, your guard let down. I love you, Jude. If you don’t feel as strongly as me, I understand, I do. I’m prepared to wait a thousand years.” He nestled his face into her neck, his sandy hair tickling her skin.

Unconsciously she began to run her fingers through his soft hair, wondering if he could feel her racing heart. “Lucas-” She started, about to break his heart, to let him down easy, but suddenly, he jerked under her touch, as if he were a puppet and a puppet master had pulled his strings.

He pulled back as if in a trance, his limbs rigid, rose to his full height and began to walk away. Jude scrambled to her feet and attempted to pull him around. Oblivious to her, he kept marching forwards towards Cardan, never looking back. She hurried in front of him, to see his face. A glazed look had overtaken his features, a blissful expression on his peaceful face. “Lucas?”

There was no answer, no matter how hard she willed him to stop, no matter how many times she shouted his name, there was nothing. No sign of the boy who had given her his heart. So, defeated, she stopped trying to get him to halt and followed him towards the boy who had shattered her life.

Cardan was smirking at her, his hands placed casually in his pockets. “Hello, my darling Jude. How are the mortal lands treating you?” He purred, as soon as Jude was within range. He held out his arms to her, wanting to draw her into a hug, but she crossed her arms, unwilling to give him what he desired.

When she saw Cardan again, she thought she’d be overjoyed, to leap at the chance to go back. But she was angry. So unbelievably angry she wanted to hurt him as he had hurt her. “After banishing me and betraying my trust, you ask how I am? You show up, unannounced, mind you, and expect me to embrace you with open arms? No. I shall not. And you glamoured my date.” Jude frowned, her lips curling downwards, looking at Lucas’s dazed expression next to the King of Elfhame.

He dropped his arms, a wounded expression on his face. “I come in peace, to offer you a chance to return. I thought after all my letters, you would understand my regret and how much I wish to see you home.”

Letters? There had been nothing but silence. “Is this another one of your tricks? To get to me to sympathize with you? I never received anything. And Faerie is not my home. I am mortal, as I am so often reminded, and replaceable. I have no home, not anymore, not after you banished me. I cannot return.”

Again, the small smile danced across his lips, as if this were a game. “Have I finally outwitted you, Jude Durate, master of tricks and wit?”

“What are you talking about?” The way he looked at her sent shivers down her spine. She had forgotten how he made her feel. Every touch, every look was as though a fire was exploding in her heart. Passion and desire warred over her common sense until she had given in to the whims of her deepest wants. Look how that had turned out.

Love was a fickle thing. It made you lose all sense until you were a love-stricken fool, incapable of seeing the ugly truth, wanting to believe the best of your partner. Love had turned her into the Court Jester. Playing tricks for them all until she had lost her balance and everything came crashing down around her while everyone laughed. A cascade of disaster.

Cardan took a step closer until they were sharing breath, every feeling she had forced down deep rose up again at the close proximity they were in. Cautiously, as if he didn’t want to startle her, he gently ran a finger down his face. “You could have returned any time you wanted. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown, let her not step one foot in Faerie or forfeit her life. Are you not Faerie’s Queen? Are you not my wife?”

Jude felt the world closing in on her as she realized just what this meant. She could have pardoned herself. She was a fool, blinded by her wounded feelings. “Wife in name only. Who banishes their wife the day after they are married? You could have warned me, at least. Instead you let me go off into the mortal world, thinking I’d never see you again. I thought I knew better than to get involved with a Faerie, a King at that.” Now Cardan turned his attention to Lucas, still looking for all the world a love-sick puppy. “Is this mortal the better option?” Cardan’s lip curled. “A mortal who doesn’t even have decent fashion sense.” Cardan eyed Lucas’s clothes seriously, as if his very existence was an affront to everything Cardan stood for.

“Leave him alone. He didn’t do anything except get mixed up with the wrong person.”

Cardan roughly got hold of Lucas’s shirt and pulled him close in an intimate embrace. “Faerie leaves scars to everyone who passes through. You cannot pass through the fire unburned. So he shall suffer the consequences of trying to marry my wife.”

“Cardan what are you-” Faster than she could follow, faster than she knew he could move, he whipped out a knife from the folds of his tunic and slashed Lucas’s forearm, cutting through fabric - with her own blade for that matter. Lucas didn’t even flinch, the glamour erasing any emotion he felt.

Cardan released the boy, his chest heaving, blade dripping in blood, staining the golden flecks of sand a brilliant red.

She lunged forwards trying to sop up the blood with the edge of her dress that had begun to drip down through the torn folds of his shirt. The only thing she accomplished was soaking the blood into her clothes and skin. 

“Now the remnants of Faerie will forever be etched upon his skin. He’ll always possess the fear of the land and the retaliation he’ll receive if he decides to chase after you again.” He looked proud of himself, as though he did something worthy or noble. “Come back with me, Jude. Let us return, as King and Queen, as Husband and Wife.” 

How dare Cardan believe he had the right to mark a mortal like so, and expect her to be okay with it? Expect her to return to him with open arms. “I will only return with you if you promise to leave Lucas alone. No assassin’s sent after him, no poison in his cup. No harm ever to come to him.” Her heart bled for the boy who had done nothing wrong other than fall in love with the wrong person.

Cardan’s tail twitched back and forth as he contemplated her offer. “If that is what you wish, I shall grant it.” He waved his hand and Lucas lumbered away, arm still bleeding profusely.

They watched the boy stumble his way back to his home, listened to the shrieks that accompanied his arrival. Jude hated it. Hated that she was the reason for his pain. 

“You have me back, but I swear to you I will hate you until I die for what you have done. You will never have me as you once did. I’ll be your Wife and Queen in name only.”

“I brought your sword, Nightfell, back from Vivi.” He held out the gleaming blade, as some sort of peace offering. Blood still dripped from the metal. She took it, only because the sword gave her comfort.

“Thank you,” she replied curtly. “Take me back, Cardan.”

“If that is what you wish.”

Jude reached up and fingered the necklace that lay on her collarbone, comforted by the pearl that slid smoothly through her fingers. 

When they reached the bright green fields of Faerie, Jude was welcomed back with open arms. She smiled politely, accepted the congratulations, but felt an emptiness, as though she was missing a limb.

Faerie would never be her home again, nor would the Mortal Lands. She had been cursed to be a wanderer, never to have a place to feel safe. Once she had thought it was Cardan, but she was wrong. She was alone, just as she always was.

Cardan

As Cardan took hold of Jude’s arm to transport her back to Faerie, he wondered if he had done the right thing by glamouring her date and cutting him on the arm with Jude’s blade. He had thought she’d be proud of what he did, as she often resorted to more violent methods at Court. Perhaps he made an error, acted too rashly. Cardan did not know how he could make it up to her. 

Although he had achieved his goal of bringing Jude home, the cost had been too high. Whatever love had been between them, was now squandered into the dirt, crushed beneath his crown. If he had simply been Cardan, and not Cardan, High King of Elfhame, would she still hate him as fiercely as she did? Was it the crown that made him act so impulsively? Or was it because he couldn’t bear to see Jude with someone else?

The awful feeling of jealousy was like a cancer, infecting his mind until he knew nothing else. All he saw was a boy courting his love, his Jude, and he had never wanted to kill a mortal so much before. He once swore to himself he would never spill blood by his own hand, but for Jude, he would do anything.

Yet now, as they were back at Court, Cardan noticed the distance now on Jude’s face as Oriana welcomed Jude back. Noticed how she kept touching the necklace at her throat.

When Jude looked at him, it was with a cold emptiness, a reserved impasse. He loved her still, but it seemed as though they were enemies once again.

Jude Durate, his wife, his Queen, hated him. He did not know if they could come back from it.

Tags: @webcraft4eveh, @illyrian-bookworm, @highladyofstoriesandmusic

[fenheart87]

manikin

Lukanette 2020 Exchange piece For @the-alice-of-hearts, enjoy! 

Marinette was on a mission,step outside of her comfort zone and again echoed by her technical design professor to be more daring and assertive and bold. She needed to round out her styles and portfolio as much as she could to make herself a more attractive candidate for any applications she submitted or even just expanding her online commissions and bulking her portfolio that way if she chose to start out on her own. It was difficult to just be set in one style and make it big when just starting. Mari figured that she would explore as much as she could before committing to one genre or style, it would keep her far from being burnt out like some of her fellow classmates.

“Hey Nathaniel! Have you seen Juleka?” She called out, walking a bit faster to the redhead who waited for her to join him.

“She was around this morning but I haven’t seen her since. Have you tried calling or texting her?”

“Yup, nothing but silence though. I’m out of touch with everyone’s schedules the more time goes by.”

“Is she complaining she can’t be super Mari and be our everyday ladybug again?” Marc teased, sneaking up and poking the shorter girl’s sides resulting in a squeal.

“Marc!” She smacked a red clad shoulder before they disappeared behind their boyfriend. “Stop doing that!”

“Stop making it so easy?” Nathaniel offered, smirking at Mari’s adorable pout.

“I hate you. I really do. Welp, if Juleka is busy and you’re both too shy to play model and dress up and have proof of it, I guess I need to find a model.”

“I’m pretty much free if you need a mannequin, class ends at three for me this week.” Marc offered kindly, green eyes peeping over Nathaniel’s shoulder.

“Oh wonderful! I found another sample fabric I wanted to try for you!” She did her jump and hip shimmy, ignoring the giggles.

“Only exception being Thursday, that’s date night this week.”

“Fine, have your boyfriend Marc on Thursday, I get your girlfriend Michelle the rest of the week. See you later!” Mari dashed away, giggling as the bright red spots on Marc’s cheeks.

After walking around campus and deciding against searching too far as she still had classes, she was no closer to finding her muse model but it did nothing to dampen her good mood. It was a sign that meant she would just have to explore the in and outs further and stay away from her usual haunts. Instead of using her eyes she decided to let her ears guide her, Marinette glanced around a few times and focused on conversations instead of what people were wearing, hearing the emotions in their voices. With the new mindset, carefully the young designer wandered around and sketched some expressions, new emotions to craft into fabric choices and color schemes to make them come alive as clothing to wear the emotion plain as day. There was a ton of laughter and giggles around her until she got closer to the library. The sound of a guitar drew her in like a sirens song.

Marinette needed a break from all the walking and climbing she had done so far and decided to stop by the library for the few books she had on hold. Skirting around the cliques that hugged the stairs more often than naught, the petite designer made her way into the library. Seeing Max working the check out desk, Marinette bee lined for him, smiling wide enough to crinkle eyes just slightly.

“Marinette, how are you today?” Max greeted, shuffling books around to scan them and write the names on the cards for the reserved items.

“I should have a few books on hold, all fashion related of course, there was one that was checked out but if you could see if it’s been returned?”

“Sure thing, book title, author or DEWY code?”

“There’s several, here’s my card.” Marinette held it out for Max to scan, rocking on heels slightly to a rhythm she could hear every time the door opened.

“Ah yes, you have five reserved and it looks like two have not been checked back on yet. Would you like me to check the return bin?” Max asked, finding the appropriate stack of books and setting them on the counter.

“Yes please, even if we can find one more that makes it easier to study and hopefully pass with flying colors.”

“Fashion has always been a huge part of you Marinette, as long as your heart is in it then you’ll pass with flying colors.” Max smiled at the rare blush on the young woman’s face, “I’ll check the returns for you, be right back.

Marinette breathed deeply to calm her sudden nerves, her friend’s unwavering faith in her abilities always managed to take the designer off guard but she wouldn’t change any of them for the world. While waiting, she filled out the cards for the books in the pile to make Max’s job easier but kept getting distracted by the wonderful music that kept sneaking through.

“I managed to find both luckily, if you could fill these out then you free to chase whatever has you so distracted.” The glint from his glasses made Marinette squeak in embarrassment as being caught.

“Thanks Max!” Quickly she stuffed the books in her backpack and marched at a reasonable pace to the door and only let out the breath she was holding once outside.

Students shuffled to and from the library, stopping to chat quietly or bask in the music for a moment before continuing their way. The solo guitarist was the center of attention, playing a mix of old and new songs. The overall genre seemed to be with the intent to soothe stressed students and teachers alike as they passed by, Marinette could feel herself relaxing and her creative block lifting. Deciding to obey her muse, the slim young woman snagged a bench that was being vacated by a couple who had finished their coffees. Unsure how much time had passed, the designer lost herself to the world of inspiration, completing outlines with notes and vague sketches with the knowledgeable experience telling her to be swift and flesh then out later.

The music had become a soft and sweet ballad, just hovering in the background for anyone to notice or ignore if they were passing by. Marinette took a quick glance at her outlines and notes, polishing little things or rewriting fabric choices, her eyes fell to the musician that she could finally see and she froze. This was exactly what she was looking for, his expression spoke of calm but hid the slight anxiety every time he started a new song. When he suddenly changed tunes and a couple stopped fighting because the music took over made his lips quirk in a faint grin. His clothes were made to blend in, ripped jeans and combat boots topped with a plain Jagged tee and lightweight layered Hoodie. That did absolutely nothing to help hide his hair with the blue tips, was that a tongue ring?! Marinette felt the need to sketch and design and she had to see what color his eyes were.

Swiftly but carefully she put away her supplies and made her way to the musician that was quietly packing away his guitar and removing the tips from his case. The designer caught his attention and when the weight of gaze met hers, Marinette just blurted out what came to mind.

“You’re hot, can I undress you?” With a squeak, she smacked her face with her sketchpad and took a few deep lungs full of air. “I’m sorry! I want your clothes- I just, you were playing and sound sexy- GOOD SOUND! I really like you- YOUR  style it’s mysterious but like nice- I really want to undress you- I mean I-!”

“Deep breaths.” His melodic voice cut through her anxiety like a hot knife to butter. “I’m Luka.”

“Ma-ma-Marinette!”

“Nice to meet your Ma-ma-Marinette. You’re an artist too?” He nodded causally to her sketchbook.

“Yes. Fashion designer. Project.” Few more deep breaths. “I need to branch out and try a new style and I usually create women’s clothes. So my professor told me to challenge myself and your music inspired me and when I looked at you, you’re perfect. That is- I mean, if you wouldn’t mind being my model?”

“So do I get to undress myself or is that your job?” Luka teased with a grin, causing Marinette to hide her face again with a squeak. “I have a crazy schedule but I’d love to help.”

“I have time on Tuesdays from two to five, Thursdays from five to seven and Saturdays after the morning rush so more like three or four to eight.” She rattled off, pulling out her planner to his amusement.

“Okay I’ll have to check my schedule, two of my classes are up in the air. How about we exchange phone numbers and then I can text you what’s my schedules going to look like? It changes week to week.”

“Most musicians do it seems, one of my best friends is a DJ and he takes all kinds of gigs so it’s hard to sit down and catch up.” They traded phones and saved their numbers before swapping back. “Some of this we can do via Skype if needed, you have to be comfortable with the design too and just wearing it to help my grade.”

“Seems like you’ve done this before.” Luka stuffed his phone into his pocket and packed away his guitar, shouldering his case.

“Fashion student, too broke for mannequins so I lure in unsuspecting folk with delicious free pastries from the best bakery in town.” She teased with a huge grin.

“Well then, I look forward to those pastries.”

Waving, they went their separate ways and Marinette had a skip in her step that had been missing due to the stress. Texting her other friends that were her usual models but this time with ideas of clothing to compliment the designs she had drafted for Luka. Everyone had a positive response and she had just enough people for a full collection, Marinette was sure to blow this project out of the water.

- - - 

Luka stared down at his phone with a smile. As far as first impressions go, he didn’t think negatively of Marinette. It was easy for the musician to recognize the spark of creativity making her blue bells shine and the dark circles the byproduct of sleepless nights from the muse keeping her awake to do her bidding. Her song was the dead giveaway, it was beautiful but unfinished with the crash of crescendos and decrescendos in spots, showing she was afraid to stay loud and bold.

“That had better not be another cat meme.” Juleka muttered, sliding into the booth across from him.

“Nope, I just got asked to undress for a pretty cute girl.”

“What girl wants to see you naked?”

“Not naked, she wants to dress me up.” Luka corrected, waving the waitress over so they could order. “Caramel cappuccino and one hot fudge vanilla shake.”

“Design student or art student?” Luka had no trouble hearing his sisters mumbles, even over the din of the coffee-shop.

“Design student, I guess she felt a good vibe with the music I was playing and she got bit by the creative bug.”

“Not the only one that got bit.” Juleka smiled innocently as the waitress set down their drink orders. “When’s your first fitting?”

“I don’t know, I told Marinette I would text her my schedule for the week once I figure it out.

"Well them, you had better bring me back an eclair and a chocolatine, try the macaroons.” With that cryptic advice, Juleka took her drink and left her brother confused. A ding from his phone had him opening a picture of a very familiar face forwarded from his sister.

Is this the ‘go get em tiger high-five from you?

You hurt her and you’ll answer to your future sister-in-law.

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

[blue---rose]

White Widow - Chapter Six

Fanfiction.net | AO3

Title: White Widow Chapter: Six Author: Blue Rose

Huge shout out to my new beta - CherryBerry12. Thank you :) 💖

“Jesus, what did you eat today? Where did it all come from?!”

If Sakura could, she would have pinched her nose closed, but she needed both hands for the task of bagging up the dog poop while keeping the leash out of it. She didn’t understand why dogs never watched where they were going and tried to keep Akumaru from stepping in his droppings before she could clean up.

Finishing, she tossed the mess in a waste bin they passed before crossing the street.

“That crap was almost as big as your head.” Sakura laughed.

The pair had just come from a small park at the end of the block and were now heading to their intended destination. On the surface, it was just a smart thing to do — letting the dog relieve himself before they needed to go inside. In reality, it was her just procrastinating. And she used every second of it.

However, the growing puppy didn't care much about taking a stroll today. Especially when they approached the towering highrise. This was his other home, and his panting and excitement signaled he knew exactly where they were.

"Ok! Ok! We're going."

Approaching the entrance, Sakura was careful to watch her step while she admired the way the evening sun reflected off the smoked glass and steel. There was a dark, eerie beauty she found in the looming structure before them.

 The last time she'd been here, a thin layer of snow had covered all of the asphalt. Frigid temperatures caused the flurries to stick to the ground like falling powder — perfect for making snow angels.

 She remembered that the exterior had been decorated with strings of twinkling blue lights as well with poinsettias arranged beneath the windows in a festive holiday display.

 Thank goodness the weather was not below freezing as it was prior, months ago. Though, that didn't stop a wave of nerves from washing over her, wondering again how she managed to get herself into another weird situation.

 Oh, yeah... that's right.

 It started with a favor.

 It always started with a favor.

 Because she had a difficult time saying no and was consistently willing to lend a hand to anyone in need.

 Which is why she was opening the glass doors to walk through the vestibule, speaking to the concierge in the lobby to give her name.

 Well, it was much too late to change her mind and Sakura sighed, releasing Akamaru from her arms after the elevator doors closed. Making a steady ascent to the top floor, she mulled over the reasons she was there in the first place.

 Sasuke had asked if she could return the dog to Kiba's family.

 He'd never met any of them, and correctly presumed she would know how to reach someone. It wasn’t much of a stretch. She and Kiba had been friends since freshman year in high-school.

 Sakura conceded to do his bidding, but followed up with some questions of her own — like, why was he watching over the dog to begin with?

 Despite being guarded, Sasuke answered all of her questions. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling things were being left unsaid.

 What quickly followed however, were thoughts of the canine’s owner. And soon she felt the dormant bud of concern blooming within her, once again.

   Kiba .

  Gently nudging away the worry she'd felt, Sakura went along with it. Especially after Sasuke revealed that it was against his lease to have a dog — up until now he'd been taking a risk.

 Feeling a little sorry that he’d been keeping him, she agreed to return the pup. Which is how she'd ended up here.

 The elevator came to a smooth stop at its designated floor, the thick doors sliding open. Akamaru pulled her down the hall, towards the other home he knew by scent and memory.

 Sakura only knew they were at the correct place because of the ' PH3 ' plaque beside the red door.

 Reaching out, she pulled down on the lever-like knob, entering once a voice beckoned her inside.

 "Hello?"

 She unhooked the leash from the studded collar just to watch the ball of fur run deeper into the suite, his tiny paws gaining traction against the mahogany planks of wood. Following seconds later, she rounded the corner to catch sight of a figure standing near an alcove.

 Sakura looked on as Akamaru whined near the person's feet, pawing at their immaculately pressed pants. He then proceeded to roll onto his back, completely exposing his belly.

 Sakura brought her eyes up to greet a woman whose tips of brown hair curled around her sharp jaw. Defined lips were painted a deep violet with a peremptory tone to match. Her voice was smooth and rich, whisking past her ears.

 "Sakura."

 Tsume Inuzuka stood as statuesque as royalty. Her commanding aura matched the intensity in her swirling, chocolate brown eyes. The attitude alone was worthy of any crown, but she was far too brutish for something as dainty as a tiara. Her brassknuckles nature had served her well in business...

 And, maybe in her personal life as well?

 The matriarch was already married to husband number three if she remembered correctly. Despite being rather intimidating, there was another side to her... a more gentle side. Something that was softer around the edges and reserved only for a select few.

 Sakura hoped she could tap into that side now. Maybe it would help, especially when a certain topic was brought up.

 "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

 Reaching down, the brunette picked up the squirming pooch to move him under her arm, briefly inspecting his form with a keen eye.

 "Hello, Mrs. Inuzuka...Er! I mean, ' Shimazu ' now... isn't it?" Sakura ran a hand across her neck, smiling to cover the wince she so desperately tried to hide.

 "Tsume is fine. Come here, let me get a good look at you. You've finally got some meat on those bones, I see."

 Almond-shaped nails dipped in black lifted the young girl's chin, fingers tilting her face and Sakura felt a blush warming her cheeks under the scrutiny.

 "Ah... yes, it has been a while. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice."

 The dark-haired woman moved to sit on a loveseat, reaching for her glass of wine.

 "Lucky it's not the weekend, or I would have been in California by now," she asserted, swirling the Merlot around in the wine glass.

 Sakura politely declined the offer to join her with a glass of her own. She did accept a seat, however, sitting across from the older woman as she continued.

 "I thought he would've lasted a lot longer before dumping his responsibilities on someone else. Speaking of which..."

 Tsume raised her eyes to meet Sakura's, the tips of her nails clicking against the glass before she pressed on.

 "You mentioned that you haven't heard from that son of mine. He's decided to stop responding to me too, which has been very irritating."

 The layered ends of Sakura's high ponytail swung across the top of her shoulders as she shook her head. Her bangs rested partially in her face but their eyes remained locked as she confirmed what she’d said earlier over the phone.

 "No, I have not."

 The hand that was twirling the glass stopped, digits gripping the stem while the ambrosia settled within.

 Shadows from the lowering sun tilted across the walls signaling the oncoming sunset. Quiet and sobering — as something stirred in the air and the mood changed. 

 Sakura sat immobile and tried not to fidget under the weight.

 The tension was broken when Tsume released a hum, cutting off eye contact to look down. Reaching over, she grabbed a piece of prosciutto arranged on a platter from the coffee table.

 Sakura slowly released the breath she had no idea she was holding until then. 

 Hesitating, she felt the need to tread lightly but knew it was necessary to shed some light on the situation. Be that as it may, it didn't look like she was going to be discovering anything new with the way things were going.

 "That's actually why I wanted to speak with you. He hasn't responded to my messages either. At first, I wasn't worried, because of... well-."

 Kiba's history of disappearing was left unspoken, but Tsume grunted in understanding, taking a long sip from her glass.

 His mother was instantly reminded of his past rebellious acts. Although there usually would be some sort of... warning that preceded any dark turn.

 Her remarrying or becoming bi-coastal were just a few examples. She could remember the fights and fallouts that followed. Especially regarding his choice of outlets.

 The reckless behavior, the unsavory habits, the disagreements... she remembered them all.

 But...

 Tsume thought they'd long moved past that. He seemed to finally settle down... as much as someone like him could. He'd been taking care of his apartment, had stayed out of jail-

  As far as she knew ...

 -and out of most forms of trouble for quite some time now. It was hard to recall the last time she'd received a phone call that ended with screams, threats, or sour disappointment. She'd hate to think he'd regressed.

 "Is there anyone he's been hanging around? A new group of friends, maybe? Other than Ino and yourself—"

 Tsume was in the dark to whom he was associating with these days. "...he rarely tells me anything and I can barely keep up with him."

 Sakura was not the type to be dishonest but she found herself in an uncomfortable position. Choosing her words carefully and hoping her deception wouldn't come back to bite her in the ass, she gave what she thought would be just enough.

 "No one I've talked to has seen or heard from him either. I'm sorry."

 She was here to get as much information as she could, without giving too much away.

 All because...

 Sasuke had also asked that she keep his name out of everything. As far as Kiba's folks were concerned, he didn't exist. And he'd like to keep it that way.

 He had his reasonings; he’d murmured some explanation and Sakura relented because it made sense at the time. Maybe not giving names was the safest route.

 But now that she was here, it was uncomfortable as hell, and her stomach felt like bats were fluttering away in it. The calm expression she presented on the surface, however, was flawless.

 Moments ticked, ticked, ticked away... before Tsume finally waved her fingers dismissively. She'd heard everything she needed to hear. Crossing one leg over the other, the perfect cuff in her pants rested against her heel.

 "No matter. Someone is already looking into it. If that boy thinks he can get away with ignoring me, he has another thing coming. I'm just wondering what foreign jail cell or backwater whore house I'll need to rescue him from this time ," she sneered, gulping down the last of her wine.

 Sakura adjusted slightly, not saying a word but giving her a small nod. But her fingers curled into fists hidden within her pockets, the rings she wore digging into her skin.

 It's not like she wanted him to be caught behind bars. Or needing to be dragged to a health clinic the next day, for thorough testing.

 It's just...

 At least he would be found, and all this fuss would have been all over nothing. But until that happened...

 Sakura gave Tsume a small smile, hoping to ease away any concern this conversation may have brought.

 Hidden away on the inside, she wished someone was there for her right now — who could return the favor. Someone who would gift her the same comfort she'd just offered Tsume to maybe put her mind at ease. Because even after speaking with his mother and listening to her confident answer...

 Sakura could not shake the feeling that just wouldn't go away.

 Something was amiss.

 But she hoped that she was off track... and just being paranoid. And that his mother was right.

 This was just one of those... 'Kiba times'.

 It's exactly what a large part of her was wishing for... and what she needed to believe.

    ✧･ﾟ* : *ﾟ･✧

 He hated that damn bow.

 Sure... on its own, it was harmless.

 That was all an illusion, though. Being an inanimate object did not stop it from being a vexation.

 And just how could something so insignificant, be so... troublesome? After all, it was merely a decorative accessory, attached to a pair of heels. Looking so innocent, affixed to the leather band caging her slender ankle.

 But looks could be deceiving.

 It became problematic when his eyes traveled north. And for the life of him, Sasuke couldn't fathom how a few inches on a shoe could be so devastating. The manner in which they elongated her legs as his focus strayed upward. Following an invisible path along smooth, pale skin.

 Limbs that seemed to go on and on for days — filling out to thighs that were soon hidden from view beneath sparkle.

 The dress she wore did nothing but accentuate her curves; dips and valleys that filled out an enticing figure.

 Sakura's slender neck supported her head as it cocked to the side, smiling at whatever some teen girl in front of her said. And her green eyes crinkled in mirth as she let out a laugh, bringing the clear plastic cup to her lips for a drink.

 Speculating if she always smiled that brightly for everyone.

 Sasuke tore his gaze away, eyes landing on the DJ booth in the corner — the LED lights around the display throbbed to the beat of the track, playing across the speakers.

 Like hell he’d be caught staring.

 It wasn’t like they hadn’t just spent... what? The last two hours together? Getting everything ready for the party. He'd seen her then...

 Same outfit…

 Same smile…

  Same god damn heels.

 So what had changed? Could he not keep himself from finding her?

 His eyes constantly tracking her, flickering to trace her migration around the open space.

 Even when he caught himself it wasn't enough to stop the cycle from repeating. His eyes would be lowered, idly scanning the party, not focused on anything in particular.

 Then...

 A flash of sequins before his eyes would settle on that little black bow.

 Wasn't that the textbook definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?

 Sasuke's mind didn't pass along that bit of information to the rest of his body. Instead, his eyes would start the trek all over again, his avaricious gaze taking her in before cutting away.

 Seeking out a distraction, he leaned against the expansive window behind him.

 The tempered glass usually flooded the suite with natural light during the day. Now, it hummed against his back, miniature vibrations warbling along the surface from the tracks deep base.  And it felt cool against him as he sighed.

 Taking another swing of beer, Sasuke hoped the warm sensation he felt didn't spread to his face. But at least he could make it appear the fault of alcohol and not the salacious thoughts starting to run rampant in his mind.

 Like...

 If the rest of her was as soft as the skin on her inner wrist was. The pad of his thumb had brushed against it when he had passed something to her earlier. And watching now, at the exposed skin her dress didn’t cover...

 Damn him if it certainly didn't look the part. He would only need a few seconds to graze his hands across the perceived silkiness to know the answer.

 Lowering the amber bottle, he swallowed thickly, sighing after. A quick look at his watch had him quickly releasing another one, wondering again why he was still there. Glancing over his shoulder at the snow-covered streets below, a minute passed — before a prickling behind his ear caught his attention.

 He was being watched.

 Everything around them started to fade away when his eyes suddenly met hers. Twinkling stars locked onto his own, piercing through the smoky haze around them, her focus solely on him. And suddenly, Sasuke's mouth was no longer satisfied with the bitter taste of alcohol.

 No...

 He was craving something else entirely.

 And as he moved closer—

   .

  His vision completely went white. 

  .

 And like coming up for air after treading murky waters, he broke through the surface and was brought back to the present… somewhat painfully .

 Surely, the sound of flesh meeting leather must have been heard during the impact. But his brain only registered the sound after as it echoed in his mind.

 Then there was the ringing.

 Lots and lots of ringing.

 .

  Ka-KLUMP-PAK!

  whoooo-sh...

  THUD.

 .

 ...

 "........... -ke? "

 He could have sworn that the saying went: you were supposed to see stars.

 Not feel them.

 ' Oh shit that hurt .'

 "...... -uke ? Sasuke ?! Are you alright?"

 ' Fucking stars. '

 "Sasuke...?"

 And fuck him and his own negligence for not seeing that coming.

 The ringing in his left ear dimmed low enough that he was finally able to hear the question. Blinking back the few spots that danced behind his eyelids, Sasuke grunted, pushing away the hands waving in front of his face. When there were no longer four eyes blinking down at him, he rose to sit up.

 The boxing gloves that had been strapped to Itachi's hands were now lying between them, his profile relaxing though remaining in its hunched form.

 "You were supposed to dodge the second hook. I pulled back but it was too late." He fussed over him again, but Sasuke batted away the concern, sitting up fully when the ringing in his ear finally disappeared.

 He felt a trail of moisture slide down his temple but breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that it was only sweat. He still counted his blessings though, thankful it wasn't his brother's leg that flew at him instead. If it was, his head would have been knocked clean from his shoulders.

 Sasuke removed the padded mitts he wore, tearing at the velcro with his perfect white teeth — more embarrassed than hurt. His brother had dangerously quick hands, and he should have known better than to allow his mind to wander when they were in the middle of sparring.

 "Where were you?" the elder asked, mirroring his unspoken thoughts while moving away to grab them water from the kitchen.

  'So he's going to call me out after all...'

 Sasuke huffed, choosing to stay seated on the mat below the hanging punching bag. He slowly worked his jaw open and closed a few times, rotating the Temporomandibular Joint.

 Good... nothing was broken.

 "Nowhere." Sasuke deadpanned, feeling along the curve for swelling.

 Itachi raised a brow at him as he passed him the chilled bottle. Knowing where further questioning would lead to, he pivoted to another topic.

 "I see your temporary house guest is no longer here..."

 Taking a much-needed sip, Sasuke began to explain what had transpired. Of how he had gotten Sakura to facilitate Akamaru’s return, along with agreeing to a few terms.

 Terms that were presented more as a... suggestion, of course. Maybe gather a little information while she was there if she could?

 He took full advantage of her gentle disposition, to coax her a little. Anything to help seal the deal.

 And when it was all said and done, they parted ways with an agreement in place.

 Sasuke didn't realize the amount of silence that stretched between them until he looked up, catching his brother’s stare. Keen orbs continued to study him, inky depths watching...

 Causing his own brows to snap together.

 "What?"

 "........"

 The corner of his brother's mouth twitched, deep lines appearing across his face before smoothing again.

 " What? "

 Sasuke didn't want to repeat himself, but the silence had struck a nerve. It brought back memories of when they were younger and how he felt whenever he was overlooked, ignored, or even excluded from certain things.

 Being an adult now, he could understand why things were handled the way they were and he harbored no resentment. However, that didn't stop the feelings from returning every now and again and bringing him back to the times when he used to be shooed away.

 Itachi never bothered to take the time to explain anything, because Sasuke was too young at the time. No one around had felt the need to, back then.

 And then there were the other occurrences, where he'd be left with nothing more than a whisper of— "Next time, Sasuke."

 As fleeting as it came, the memories all disappeared when Itachi finally caved.

 Learning lessons from the past, Itachi saw no reason to get Sasuke unnecessarily riled up.

 "Nothing."

 It would have been convincing, too... if they hadn't known each other so well.

 Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Sasuke leaned back on his elbows, his damp shirt stretching across his torso. He dragged his water bottle with him as a fresh breeze stirred across the loft from an open window.

 "Just spit it out already. You can either say it now and get it over with. Or later..." His nose twisted as if he was going to sneeze.

 "...no doubt in some cryptic way. Do us both a favor and spare me the hassle," Sasuke ended boldly, taking another swig and draining the bottle below the halfway mark.

 It took some time, but pointing out the obvious had its desired effect and Itachi finally asked what had been on his mind.

 What came was an inquiry about the woman — whose name, he'd noticed; was always spoken with a certain... tone . 

 Was there something going on that he should know about?

 And since Itachi had avoided using a condescending tone when asking the question, the prodding managed to disarm him.

 "Nothing..." Sasuke answered; slate-colored eyes drifting as his brother moved to sit near him. Breaking eye contact, a few of his fingers pressed into the padded mat underneath them.

 "... at least, not yet?"

 He always did find it difficult to keep things from his brother.

 Itachi could have easily sprained his wrist while sitting; his weight careening with a jolt at the quiet admission. He recovered well enough, sitting down fully and eyeing his younger brother with veiled surprise.

 And for a while, the only sound in the room came from the jingling chains holding up the punching bag, as it drifted in small circles near them.

 Sasuke finally gathered the courage to glance up, but his brother's eyes were peering outside, deep in thought.

 The sunlight kissed Itachi's low ponytail, gathered across one shoulder and his umber touched gaze looked far away.

 The question surprised him when his lips suddenly moved.

 "You like this girl, Sasuke?"

 He wasn't sure why, but he flinched.

 What was he supposed to say, Sasuke thought as his teeth pinched the inside of his bottom lip. The tip of his tongue could almost feel the impression left by Sakura's teeth from their last kiss. The ghost of the intimate touch came to mind at the most inopportune time.

 Did they really have to get into this when he still couldn't find the right words to describe what was happening between him and Sakura? It was all just one big ball of complication as far as Sasuke was concerned.

 An intricate web, twisting with many threads of complexity...

 With the label of 'friends ,' not quite fitting...

 And it was far too soon to be thinking about ‘love’ ...

 But 'just fucking' was too crude, and there was an interest there beyond the physical — as nice as that was.

 A string of fate that seemed to constantly pluck at his attention whenever she was near, while driving him to distraction when she wasn't.

 And it was comical and annoying at the same damn time. And, well...

  Ah fuck , he'd asked for this, didn't he? Him and his big mouth.

 "I-..." Sasuke hesitated, blinking in contemplation before trying again. "What I mean is-"

 Long fingers wrapped in protective white tape lifted. Two digits extended to brush against Sasuke's forehead, effectively cutting him off.

 "I just want you to be mindful." A sharp gaze fixated onto his own, and even though he took a breath to respond — his brother's gentle smile gave him pause.

 "I also want you to be happy," he continued, lips curving into a knowing grin. 

 Rising from the mat with a stretch, Itachi made his way down the hall towards the bathroom, leaving his younger sibling alone with his thoughts. He also ignored the small frown zeroing in on his retreating back.

 Sasuke slowly shook his head, following the figure of his brother until he disappeared around the corner.

 Whatever surprise that lingered was quickly overshadowed with something else as he gulped down another drink of water.

 An unexpected flare of delight engulfed him as he slowly returned his brother's grin...

 And there was only the empty room left to witness the handsome sight of Sasuke's dimple — a rare, but genuine smile pursing his lips at the unclouded approval he'd just received.

 ✧ ･ﾟ * : * ﾟ･ ✧

 "Is that the last of it? What about that other set in the back?" one mover asked the other as they stood near the rear of the box truck.

 "The dresser with the mirror? Nah, that's going to a couple in Bethesda. That's our next stop. Here, take this when you go up and drop that off. She already tipped us... just get them to sign," the driver told him, closing the rolling door when he jumped down from the back of the vehicle.

 The clipboard was placed on top of the sealed, brown box the taller mover was already carrying in his arms.

 Making sure it was perfectly balanced in his hands, he turned to go up the freight elevator... making one last and final trip.

 The front doors to the newly leased space were still propped open, and he placed the box down, just inside the sizable foyer.

 "This is the last one," he called out, his russet eyes scanning the invoice, looking for the client’s name. "We just need an autograph from Ms.-... ah-."

 "I'll do it!"

 There was a conscious effort not to look down at the exposed legs of the young blonde as she came bounding towards him, hips swaying in a pair of forest green cotton shorts.

 He also did his best not to stare at the: 'I love cock' written in graffiti font on her shirt — and the word 'tails' stamped right below it in smaller print. 

 Though slightly crude, the tongue-in-cheek message had made him chuckle most of the afternoon while he was working.

 Ino smiled brightly, nibbling on the capped pen while her eyes took their time to locate the signature line.

 Tugging on the brim of his hat, the helper began to calculate his chance of success in scoring her number. And in turn go completely against company policy.

 His opportunity to risk it all was interrupted when the owner of the suite appeared from around a corner.

 Sakura shooed the golden femme away, signing the papers instead. She thrust the paperwork back in his hands after thanking him.

 Mouthing a quick 'sorry,' Sakura apologized for the actions of her all-too-flirtatious friend.

 The company had done an amazing job and had earned the positive review she'd leave.

 Ino twirled away to retrieve a stash — hidden earlier on the built-in shelf, snagging a lighter as well. Turning, she climbed over the back of the sofa.

 The hand holding the bright red plastic waved in their general direction.

 "We really can't thank you enough. Did you guys have to train to be so amazing?" Ino climbed down with a purr and a wink, still flirting as she settled on the floor.

 Sakura let out a nervous giggle, ushering the smitten guy out the front doors.

 "Is there anyone who is spared from your relentless-... philandering ?" She huffed, unlatching the mechanism holding both doors open, closing them tightly.

 Really, her friend could be so embarrassing sometimes.

 "What can I say? I love a man in uniform. Besides, I left them alone for most of the afternoon… you should be thanking me." Ino twisted the grinder in her hands, her spine resting against the front of the large sectional.

 Sakura slowly came over to stretch out behind her, laying down on her stomach. Sinking into the cushions, she felt the tension slowly release from her overworked muscles.

 Despite any possible... sexual harassment lawsuits, she was glad her bestie was there lending a helping hand. Moving was always a grueling task, so any help was appreciated. She'd even done some manual labor when she helped Sakura paint a room back at her old apartment.

 Leaving the place in immaculate condition scored her most of the security deposit back. Her comrade teased that it was unfair and that the only reason she did was that the place was barely lived in.

  "I'm just glad it's all done." Sakura mumbled from her sprawled position, her sweat pants resting dangerously low on her hips. They were already rolled down twice at the waist, and now a bit of blue cotton peeked from underneath.

 Ino paused, oceanic eyes spanning the layout. One eyebrow pinched inward after taking in the bare dwelling.

 "I wouldn't exactly call this... 'done,' Forehead. You have your bed and this monstrous couch. Other than that, you really need to get this place decorated."

  'Let the nit-picking begin.'

 "Yeah, yeah..." Sakura mumbled around a throw pillow, her face still buried in softness. "I'll order a bunch of stuff later."

 There were three different flavors of frozen yogurt chilling in the freezer. And her books and medical journals were unpacked and stored away. As far as she was concerned, everything else could wait.

 Ino wasn't convinced but instead concentrated on rolling the canappa before her, grunting at the stickiness.

 They still had to officially 'bless the house,' after all.

 Sakura turned towards her, raising a hand to cradle her head, cheeks still pink from burrowing into the pillow. It was only when she was spaced out that a particular thought drifted back to the forefront of her mind.

 And with all the bustle from today, there hadn't been a quiet moment up until now, to bring it up.

 "Did that guy ever call back again?"

 As it turned out, Tsume wasn't kidding when she said someone was looking into Kiba's disappearance.

 A private investigator reached out to her, asking a series of questions. Sakura told him exactly what she'd already shared, her story and timelines never changing. Not that there was much to tell.

 Afterward, she'd given her best friend a heads up, instincts warning that she'd be next.

 Much later he did get ahold of Ino, though, she had very little to say. Her answers were similar to Sakura's, as they'd both lost contact with Kiba around the same time.

 And she made it clear that she didn't know anything beyond that.

 Licking her lips, Ino brought a knee up to her chest, her sock covered foot dragging across the throw rug while she remained mindful of the low table in front of her.

 "After the first time? No."

 She then extended her tongue to wet the ends of paper as she expertly rolled the joint. Humming in affirmation, she eyed her handy work.

 "He was a pushy bastard though. When you talked to him, did you tell him anything? Maybe let something slip you shouldn't have?"

 Sakura sat up in surprise.

 "What? No..." She shook her head although the blonde was still facing forward, away from her.

 An eerie feeling ricocheted in her tummy.

 "D-... did you?"

 Ino snorted, flicking bits of grass from her nail bed. "I should have," she murmured.

 "Ino!"

 She was just being a bitch, but it's what she did when she felt annoyed... agitated .

 "To be honest, I'm not getting a good feeling about any of it. Not to mention... a P.I. coming around? Asking questions? This is getting to be a bit much."

 What's next?

 The police?

 It was not a good look to have a bunch of authorities hanging about, despite the reason for their presence.

 "I know..." Sakura began, the cushions shifting under her movements.  "I don't like any of this either... but even Sasuke-"

 The blonde spun around so fast she feared whiplash. Sparks of contention lit the glare Ino threw her way.

 "We don't know him, Sakura!"

 When she yelled, it surprised them both, their eyes wide and staring. It hadn’t been on purpose. Of course it hadn’t been, and Ino couldn't remember the last time she'd been so quick to snap.

 So, after taking a much-needed breath, the apology floated in the air between them.

 But not for what she said .

 No...

 She'd meant that.

 But… for the way she said it? Maybe she was a bit too harsh. She regretted it the moment it left her lips, so she made another attempt to apologize, keeping her voice even and much calmer.

 "We don't know him. Now, I'm not saying he's a bad guy or anything, but he's Kiba's friend..." Ino stressed, "not ours . I think he's cool and all, but we need to think with our heads here, and not with..."

 Her eyes lowered to Sakura's lap, hearing the sharp intake of breath when the seated girl immediately stiffened with indignation.

 "I'm not!" Sakura tried to defend herself. And if her leg wasn't twisted beneath her body she would have snapped her legs shut.

  'Guilty, much?'

 "Then we need to think smart. I don’t know about you, but I can't be seen mixed up with anything shady. Having some private eye sniffing around is a no-go for me."

 Ino turned back to the low table in front of her, her thumb rolling over the spark wheel twice, before the lighter flickered to life.

 Sakura sighed, shoulders dropping as she just let it go. She looked instead to the beautiful vase of flowers sitting close by.

 The arrangement of orange roses, honeysuckle — and a few other things she couldn't name were sorted together.

 It was a beautiful house warming gift from Ino, and she appreciated the floral scent as it drifted through the air. But she knew even its sweet smell wouldn't stand a chance against the thick haze that was sure to come.

 Sakura rolled to her feet, moving around her friend to approach the veranda door to crack it open. Nudging it slightly, she felt the crisp breeze charming its way past the small opening and into the room.

 Ino continued her musings on an exhale, swirls of grey, blueish smoke wafting towards the darkened recessed lighting above.

 "Sasuke was right about one thing, though..."

 She stood up, approaching her friend from behind and passing along the lit herb. "We should stay out of it. Besides, someone is looking for him... his family has it covered."

 Darting off to find an ashtray, she left the pink-haired woman to lean against the glass with her private thoughts, gazing at the skyline beyond the metal railings of her patio.

 Taking a long drag, Sakura hoped the calming effects would kick in soon and burn away her lingering restlessness.

 Everyone, it seemed, was just shying the Kiba issue away or even brushing it all aside. And it made her feel so damn torn inside.

 Reaching around, she patted herself down, feeling around for her phone.

 Oh, she knew what was going to happen... but she went for it anyway.

 There wasn't a choice, was there? Besides, she was nothing if not steadfast.

 And while fully aware of what was going to happen once she pressed 'SEND', Sakura didn't hesitate. 

 Her rather nimble fingers typed away, making another attempt to at least... try to do something.

 .

  Message:

   Just let me know you're ok...

  Please?

 .

 Sakura's hand reached up to remove the joint from her lips, holding her breath with a deep inhale as she re-read the note again.

 Sending out the text, she slowly blew out a trail of smoke.

 A familiar notification sound cackled in the air as the last cloud left her peach-stained lips. And her eyes caught sight of what showed up on the screen.

 The message was undeliverable.

 Just like the previous dozen she'd sent before that.

 Some of the messages she sent were laced with concern, others spewing threats of sterilization. She quickly discovered that anything sent out was shortly returned after bouncing through mobile data and Wifi signals.

 All of her messages went unanswered.

 But whatever disappointment or irritation she felt was quickly tempered down as conflict echoed in her mind.

   "'...-e.'"

  Because wasn't this the same thing she'd done in the past? Completely ghosting everyone close to her?

 Absconding without a care in the world, regardless of who it might hurt, or what it could affect?

 Sakura had exhibited the same pattern of behavior herself a while ago. And at her worst, she had gone days without responding, keeping her distance.

   "'...-ite.'"

  The memories surfaced like the smoke drifting past her face as she took another hit, contemplating just how much it sucked... being on the other side now.

   "'...-rite.'"

  Ino returned, handing Sakura the found ashtray while quickly plucking the weed from her aloof grip. Humming a tune, she went over to go see about playing some music.

 But Sakura stayed put, unable to shake the word that haunted her mind.

 One that felt weighted like the heavy crystal she held in her grasp. Looking down, she caught the way a few rainbows appeared with every deviation of the ashtray, and every time a flash of color reflected she imagined a voice whispering in cool, mocking tones inside of her head.

"'...-crite.'"

Taunting all the emotions echoing through her, even as she accepted the bitter truth in the word, repeating over and over again...

    "'Hypocrite.'"

  ✧ ･ﾟ * : * ﾟ･ ✧

 " The sky is clear and you can see for miles across the grasslands. But as easy as she could look beyond the Serengeti, she could just as easily be spotted.

  Shoulders hunched low, the lioness hugs her body close to the ground. Blending in among the straw-colored grass... she inches her way closer. She must eliminate as much distance between her and the intended prey before launching her attack. Her sisters are in tune with her, circling the herd on either side, bellies low to the ground as they stalk closer.

  The pack has not eaten for days, and this may be their last chance before the grazing animals migrate north and out of their territory. There are plenty of mouths to feed back at the den and a few hungry cubs who will not survive the rest of the season without a steady supply of food."

 The prone figure nibbled on the last of his fish cake sandwich, his heavy boots hanging off the edge of the loveseat. His large frame laid sideways on the furniture, leaning against the armrest as he watched the clip on his screen.

 He always was a fan of a good old-fashioned hunt. There were just some things in life, that only Mother Nature could do with such... finesse .

 You could learn a lot if you sat back and watched her work.

  "The wildebeests were on alert, taking turns to raise their heads to keep on the lookout."

 He listened to the thick, South African accent as it narrated the encounter playing on the phone. The screen zoomed in as long blades of grass hung from the wildebeests’ chewing mouths while they kept an eye on the young calves. Soon, the camera panned out to show how close the hunters had gotten.

  "It is far too late to be overly cautious now. The lioness and her sisters were in striking range and had only to pick their target.

  Digging their long claws into the heated dirt below, they sprint across the plain. 

  The chase was on..."

 His phone suddenly chirped, and a notification for a new message appeared at the top.

 The man’s narrowing squint flickered up but quickly went back to the action.

 The screen flashed to the pounding of hooves kicking up clouds of dry dirt. And he focused, excited to watch what happened next.

  "The ground vibrates as the herd stampede away, now catching sight of the fawn and black death machines barreling towards them. The chaos is enough for one to lose its footing, one back leg twisting beneath its lumbering body."

 The front hooves clambered against the ground while the frightened animal tried to gain leverage, but it was too late.

  "The seasoned lioness is there in a blink, ready to capitalize on the last mistake the prey would ever make in its life."

 Slow-motion captured the way the lioness’s claws hooked into the large antelope, trying to gain purchase as her jaws opened wide across the prey’s neck.

 The beast finally got to all four hooves just in time to feel the weight of another lioness as she bit at its spine, her body hanging from its rear.

 Losing strength and blood, the scared animal let out a long moan as the lions worked together to bring it down. A third lioness bit at its heels and soon the pressure was enough. A billow of dirt rose in the air as all of their combined weight crashed to the dusty, hot earth below.

 The narrator's voice decreased in volume once again, as another message notification came through — the rhythmic beeping much louder than the nature video, still playing on the screen in full-screen mode.

 Sighing, the man sat up straighter, swinging his legs to the floor to check.

   Message:

  Any updates?

  Message:

  Or has this been a waste of time?

   'Damn.'

 And the documentary special was starting to get to the good parts too. Locking the screen, he stood tall in a stretch, straightening the henley shirt he wore and trudged to the adjoining room.

 The small apartment was oftentimes used as a temporary working space. Although rarely used for the more... messy parts of their job, it was quite convenient for quick meetups. And with the newest development, it made for a well suited temporary office.

 Located just behind a deli, but with a hidden entrance and secured parking, it had only made the best sense to set up shop here, for now.

 The next room was much darker with the blinds drawn the way they were, but multiple computer monitors glared with artificial light as the man came to stand behind the seated teen. A pretty penny had gone into the elaborate setup — more than a few parts couldn’t be bought in just any store.

 There were a few programs open that he was familiar with while scanning the screens, but most he was not.

 And as intelligent as the man thought himself to be, he would never presume to understand what any of the letter and number combinations meant, trailing across the monitor on the left.

 "Looks like you are up and running. What's the status?"

 "I think I've found a way in," Chef replied, his eyes never leaving the screens as he typed away. His favorite song had just begun to play in his ear, and he was seconds away from turning it up before the guy showed up behind him.

 " Think ?" The man's arms folded and his lips melted into a frown.

 "Yeah. What? I can't go back and get in the same way I did before, my dude. They've already patched that shit. I also don't want to set off any alarms. Gotta be sneaky," Chef offered in a huff.

 Besides, he'd already tried the old route and got locked out. But when inside before, he had discovered some other cracks — and hoped to take advantage of one of them now.

 "But you can do it?"

 "Yeah. I can do it."

 The teen went back to work when he felt the figure move away, turning up the volume to catch the tail end of his song. This was exactly why he never took up private offers before. But... the money should be worth having to deal with someone breathing down his neck, in the end.

 The man turned away, sheathing the hidden knife back into its pouch in silence, leaving the room just as quietly as he entered. Hopefully, the teens’ confidence would produce some good results... and soon.

 A real shame too, that he didn't know...

  His very life depended on it.

   ✧･ﾟ* : *ﾟ･✧

  He was counting stacks of collected funds in his living room when one of his phones went off.

 With their associate still missing, Itachi gave Sasuke the task of fulfilling a few orders and handling some assignments. He'd been on the run for the last few days, completing  transactions that were left to be done in Kiba's absence. Just because he was missing didn't mean the business stopped and even grunt work needed to be seen to.

 He'd used the opportunity to do a little digging on said person's disappearance, but not finding satisfactory answers left him feeling a little perturbed.

 He had been in a sour mood as of late and could think of nothing that might turn things around.

 So seeing her initials flash across his chirping phone's screen was bittersweet — he couldn’t tell whether Sakura calling him at this very moment was a good thing or not.

 There hadn't been a chance for him to reach out to her. Though, no matter how busy he was, he knew he should have found the time.

 And maybe a part of him was feeling guilty for only texting a few things in the last few days...

 But she had his number too, damnit. He had made sure of it when he physically saved it on her phone the last time they were together.

 It was a personal number that not too many people had access to, at that.

 She could have easily called sooner too, but that was neither here nor there.

 Maybe her voice would be the ray of sunshine needed in the otherwise shithole-pit-of-darkness his mood had been sinking into.

 "Hello?"

 Sasuke's voice was unhurried and a little scratchy — coming out husky after not being used for the last two hours since he'd gotten home and showered. He thought he might be coming down with something and made a mental note to drink some hot tea later.

 In the future, Sakura will share with him just how much his voice alone could make her feel sometimes — even when heard over the phone. No way she could tell him that right now, though. There was too much power in that bit of information and she resisted the urge to clear her own throat, hoping the whimsical flutters would go away soon.

 " Sasuke... "

 Maybe one day — around the same time, Sasuke would finally admit how fond he was of hearing her say his name, regardless of its nature or the mood.

 Nonetheless, an eyebrow hitched as he wrapped a thick wad of bills with a beige rubber band.

 "What? Did you misdial or something...?"

 If the answer was yes he wasn't sure he could handle it — not with how this week was going.

 But she said no, and he could just see the smile on her face when she released a small laugh.  He imagined the soft, cupids bow he could still remember the feel of... if he tried.

 Maybe it was a good thing she called, after all. Even after a bit of chatter, he could already feel some of the day's tension releasing from his moody form.

 " Actually, the reason I'm calling was... "

   Why haven't you called?

  Why haven't you taken me out on a proper date yet?

 Already he could hear that — and the other half-dozen questions, all in his mind before she finished.

 He could almost feel his answers forming, and hoped they wouldn't sound like excuses when he said them out loud. Because... damnit, he'd been meaning to see a bit more of her. But with everything going on-

 " -I... well, actually, Kankurō wanted to know if you were coming to his birthday party? He said you already received his invitation. And his order, which — by the way, I won't even ask what's on that list ."

 She trailed off but picked back up with a giggle. 

 " Anyway, he wanted to make sure you didn't forget, and were going to be there. "

   Wait.

    What?

  Having the question ring inside of his mind was not enough, and his mouth opened to express the dumbfounded stutter his brain felt.

 "What?"

 She'd called him only... for that ?

 It's all anyone was talking about, she said; oblivious with his disappointment. Sasuke listened as his hands slowed down to a full stop, trying to keep the frown at bay.

 After the last few — irritating days he's had...

 That's the reason they were finally speaking?

  Kankurō ?

 Maybe talking when he was in low spirits wasn't the best idea after all. Something in his clipped tone must have given him away because after a bit of silence she hesitantly asked.

 " Is everything ok? You sound a bit... distracted? "

 "Yes."

  'No.'

 Bloody hell, that's not what he'd meant. No... it is what he meant, but he didn't mean to say it like that-

 "Just finishing up something."

 " Oh ..."

  'Fuck.'

 Things were quickly spinning out of control and he needed to figure out a way to salvage it.

 Or just end it... before he said something completely Sasuke like, and ruined it for everybody. 

  "Oh... well, it sounds like this is a bad time. I'm sorry-"

 "Don't be-"

  ' Gentle ... you idiot, nicer!? ' 

 "-I mean, it's fine." Sasuke continued after the slight pause.

 Ok, so that wasn't much better and he winced when a rubber band popped, stinging his hand before reaching for another one.

 Sakura waited a beat but wasn't convinced. " Ok... well, I guess I'll see you there? Sorry to disturb you."

 Sasuke fumbled with the phone for a second yet wasn't quick enough to stop her from ending the call, and he sat there after feeling like he just dropped the ball in a major way.

 He groaned, dropping everything in his hands and grabbing at his locks while sinking further into the sofa. It was no use trying to text her back because even he knew when to cut his losses.

 At least no one was there to witness the embarrassment... but he could hear the guffaw his cousin Shisui would have released if he could see him now.

  'Real smooth, Uchiha... real smooth.'

  End Chapter

✧ ･ﾟ * : * ﾟ･ ✧

[ghost-at-the-masquerade]

Friends in Low Places

Part 2: Tourist Trap

Rating: PG

Count: 2666

Summary: A few days after the events of Tremors, the trio stops for a bite and tour of a roadside attraction. Or: Juliette makes an excellent choice, and Zeke makes a bad one.

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

“Afraid she’s never gonna be the same after a shock to her suspension like that.” Zeke sighed, patting the side of the truck as he came around. Juliette and Roscoe sat on the tailgate, boxes and bags of their belongings pressed against their backs.

“Is it real bad?” Juliette said through a mouthful of cheese-steak, brows creased.

“Well, it’s not good, but we’ll get by.” He shrugged and leaned past her to grab his own sandwich.

Juliette swung her feet, marveling at the sweeping height of the pines around them. The smell of ceders heavy in the air. They were parked in a gravel lot with nothing but half-rotted blocks of wood to mark the spaces. Back around the bend, toward where they came in, was the little food stand where they had grabbed their lunch; a weather-stained building with just two windows to order from and three friendly, stocky folk tending it. In the other direction was their next destination.

A building made of logs almost black in color, with a steep roof and its name up in gaudy, blood-orange lettering; Twinkle Cove’s House of Terrors. ‘Terrors’ had a dripping effect that had clearly been added later. It might have been a home once, but the windows and doors had since been replaced with dark frosted glass. The inside of the door was plastered with fliers for other local businesses.

Once they were done eating, Zeke led the group to join just one other small party in the lobby, ditching their trash in the can outside. A gust from the AC swept over them at the threshold, making way for the faint smell of dust and taxidermy. Lights over each display cast heavy shadows to hide the seams on the tackier fakes. Floor vents rattled in the corners.

Zeke removed his sunglasses and let them hang from his shirt collar, grinning all the while. Usually he tried not to make comments about Juliette’s stops, not wanting to influence her choices, but he loved this hokey shit and could make no secret of it.

The counter to their left was manned by a spindly fellow who reminded Zeke of a harvestman; those tiny, long-legged spiders. Dressed in a clean black suit and cloak, gloves and bowtie a rich sanguine, topped off with too-big silver cufflinks and a swirl in his hair. He acknowledged them with a nod and a flash of pearly-whites.

The three of them split across the room. Juliette went for the counter, its glass case holding an array of trinkets. Gems inset in gargoyle claws, decently realistic rats, wands and supposedly cursed objects.

Zeke himself made a round of the room, looking over the displays that you got for free. A passable piece of taxidermy claiming to be a were-badger, crafted, as far as he could tell, from a honey badger and a red fox. A tuft of brown hair that almost looked burnt, kept behind glass; the plaque described it as a trophy from an encounter with the local woodland witch. Several unsettling mannequins he couldn’t get a good look at, since they were occupying the small family also in the lobby.

Roscoe went to peep down the hallway to the right, which was cornered off with a single strip of velvet rope. When they went to lay a hand on it, the man at the counter tutted and called out in what was surely his stage voice, “Folks if you would just gather here, I’d be glad to sign you up for our grand tour!”

Juliette side-stepped over in front of the register to be first in line, a cheeky smile on her face. The man returned her a smile that crinkled his eyes. Zeke joined her shortly, and it took no time at all the register both parties.

Thus the lot of them gathered in front of the rope divide, the man in charge standing before them with his shoulders braced and hands twisted together. It was hard to tell if the posture was part of the bit, or genuine nerves.

“Hello, hello, I’m your host and owner of all these terrible delights, Terry!” He stumbled over his script with an appreciative laugh when a couple of them cheered. Moving the rope aside, he gathered himself and continued, “Stay close behind me and don’t touch anything you aren’t willing to… get attached to.”

With that and a menacing laugh the tour began. Through the first narrow hallway, with concerningly real cobwebs in its crooks and crannies, past an alcove leading to a bathroom and an office, they took a left-hand turn into a room even darker than the lobby.

As their host briefly explained; “Certain items can be damaged over time in bright lights. No flash photography, of course.”

There were the staples of places like this; traces of Bigfoot and hair of the moth-man, hooves of unicorns even. More interesting was a purple checked hood, dropped by the flatwoods monster - the holes in front lightly singed from the intense light of the creature’s eyes. Surprisingly life-like stone statues of woodland critters, victims of a basilisk. The basilisk itself, even, or a depiction of it.

“Even the corpse is dangerous!” Terry proclaimed, a finger held sternly in the air, “Not suitable for display.”

To his credit, Terry seemed genuinely enthused about each and every piece. But his clear favorite, in the final room, was most impressive of all.

This room was smaller than the others they had passed through, holding only one display. Hidden behind a heavy satin curtain, deep red and lightly dusty. Terry crossed the room with a twirl of his cape, his hands almost seemed to tremble as he reached for the thick braided cord that would pull back the curtain.

“Parents, please hold on to your children.” The party of strangers obliged for the hell of it. Juliette made a point of scooting away from both Zeke and Roscoe.

Terry yanked the cord and revealed a dark, hairy, humanoid figure. Vaguely canine in the face, with great black horns that scraped the ceiling. Hands that weren’t quite hands, but not quite paws either, with jagged, broken claws. Roscoe leaned closer, mouth open slightly. The thing’s fur was as black and fluid as ink, eyes shimmering unnaturally bright for the dimness of the room. Surely, it had to be a sort of projection, but search as the eye might, they could not find the subtle tells.

“The grand prize that no doubt drew you to this place, the lesser demon slain by our very own local monster hunter, Paul Anderson!” Terry shook like an excitable dog.

The younger of the two children there reached out. When their fingertips brushed its bent knee, a single second shattered into a thousand. The beast’s head snapped down, teeth barred in a growl. It staggered forward, knocking over the rope divide. The children shrieked and all seven of the guests scrambled backwards.

Zeke’s hand snapped to his side automatically, instinctively going for his revolver. Thankfully, it was still in the car, so the situation would escalate no further. Terry was absolutely howling with laughter.

He crowed after the little family, who were already back in the previous room, “All in good fun, all in good fun, that’s the one that keeps them coming back!”

Roscoe clutched their heart, despite being blank-faced as ever, aside the raised eyebrows. Juliette tugged at her braid.

Zeke spat out the scare and laughed. “Aw, okay, you got us. That’s pretty damn good. What’s that, animatronic-?”

Terry didn’t even let him finish, moving out of the room, “I’m afraid that’s all there is to see for now! But we always have more attractions coming, if you’d come see us again in the fall…!” His spiel continuing as they returned to the lobby.

With a little distance, everyone was in good spirits about it, though the younger child was a bit huffy in denying that they’d been scared. The family argued briefly over whether to buy anything before ultimately leaving empty-handed. Juliette gently bullied Roscoe into buying her one of the cursed spoons from the display case. Roscoe cast a meaningful glance back at Zeke before taking her outside.

Business concluded, the register rung - an old fashioned thing - and Terry came around the register again. He cast a wary, sideways look at Zeke as he went to set the rope barrier back in place. “Something I can help you with?”

Zeke sidled up next to him with a few casual, swinging steps, put on a sloppy, side-ways kind of smile and a bit of concern on his brow. He clicked his tongue and looked around the lobby as he spoke, “Awfully bold of you to be flauntin’ it like that these days. Pretty neat setup you got going on, though. How’s the monster-hunter involved?”

When he actually turned to look at him, Terry was frozen stiff, breathing in quick, shallow breaths. Zeke held up his hands, any humor dropping from his expression.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I’m not-” the rest of his words were forced out in a gasp as Zeke threw himself aside. He turned back to find a comically large axe splitting the floor where he had just been standing. His gaze shot up to Terry’s face, wide-eyed, unreadable.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” He held out a hand even as he crawled backwards toward the hall. Terry shook his head rapidly, fists clenched in his cape.

“That’s what they all say!” Shadows shot up to swallow the light from outside, crept up the walls like thousands of spiders to dim the overhead lights. Terry jerked his arm out dramatically, “That’s what all of them said!”

The weight of those words came into focus quickly; the three grotesque mannequins, their horrified faces looking as though they’d been covered in clay, came to flank Terry. Their bases scratched the floorboards, following as he moved into the hall after Zeke.

Zeke did all he could do; scramble to his feet and try to put distance between them. The options for where he could get it were severely limited; continue on down the hall, into the bathroom, or the office. Zeke didn’t fancy being cornered that quickly. He backed away, still holding up a single pacifying hand. The walls cracked and splintered on either side of him, oozing viscous void from their wounds. Lightbulbs screamed, formless things flitted through the edges of his vision.

“Listen, I’m not here to start anything,” Steady words that simply bounced off his pursuer as they made it into the main display room, “It’s not like that, I’m not with those bastards.”

“I won’t be lied to. I won’t be taken that easy.” Terry spat. The jackalope in the case to his left sprung to life, flailing and trying to bite through the glass, dead eyes flashing. Zeke’s eyes flitted around the room for his next move.

The room dimmed further and suddenly silver flashed in Terry’s hand. A simple, smooth blade. Something clicked together in Zeke’s head, but there wasn’t even time for it to form as a whole thought before Terry threw.

Zeke’s arm shot up in defense, but to no avail. A glass display teetered as he staggered back against the wall. Pain coursed through his ribs - far less than it seemed like there should be. Ragged breaths drew through his teeth as he saw but couldn’t feel the blood pooling up under his fingers. Something that sounded like stomping was lost at the edge of his perception, overtaken by static.

Everything in the room distorted and flickered, twisted and turned sickeningly, lights searing bright before settling back into normalcy. And then it was gone; the knife was gone, both flesh and fabric mended. He palpated the spot just to be sure.

His gaze shot back up to where Terry stood shaking, eyes glistening. The mannequins were gone. And over Terry’s shoulder, he could see Roscoe, an indecipherable mess of guilt and pain and concern on their face, their hands laid on his shoulders.

“I’m sorry - I don’t like to do it so quickly.”

“He stabbed me!” Zeke objected to the apology, hand still on the spot where the knife had been.

They couldn’t really disagree, so they just grimaced and tilted their head.

Zeke pushed himself upright. “Can we please just talk now?!”

“Are you going to take me in, then?” Terry’s voice was small. Frightened. He swallowed and said more insistently, “All I can do is scare people, I’m no good to you. Just parlor tricks.”

Zeke did his best to steady his voice, “No, I tried to tell you, it’s not like that.”

But with his only defense disabled, the fear split him anyway. “Then what?! What do you want?!”

Something like guilt made Zeke’s temper flare, “I just - wanted you to know you got fucking caught! That somebody who knows something about conduits is going to see through you if you keep this up!” Zeke turned on his heel, away from the palpable tension in the room.

Terry did nothing to cut it; he stayed stock still, looking at the ground until he finally slipped to his knees. Roscoe backed away a step.

Zeke put a hand over his mouth and sighed through his nose, trying to ignore the tiny adrenaline tremors still coursing through his arms. He turned back with a suspicious squint.

“If it’s all just tricks of light then how did it hurt?”

Terry looked over to the jackalope display, conspicuously fingering the hole where his cuff-link had been, “I mean, objects can be disguised…”

Zeke’s face felt hot. Had he really reacted so dramatically to something so small? Fear had a power all its own.

“The hunter - you asked about the hunter, Anderson,” Terry twisted his hands together, “He- he caught me. And said… said I could use him as part of the story…”

The subtext settled neatly beneath the silence, like dust beneath a sheet.

“You wanted to talk, that’s where I am. He hasn’t imposed much and it’s been good for business. So what do I do?”

Many questions compounded into one. None that Zeke had the answers to.

“What do I do?” He repeated, shoulders drawn in.

Zeke opened his mouth, but all that came out at first was another sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I can’t-” He walked past them into the hall on autopilot. He needed out of this suffocating place.

Roscoe picked up for him, knelt down next to Terry and produced from their vest a light purple business card. “The best we can offer is somewhere to run, if it comes to that.”

Terry took the card like it might come alive and snap at him.

Zeke heard the two continue to talk, softer now, but didn’t tune in to what else was said. Then Roscoe’s hand was on his back, leading him outside.

The light of day was blinding after the all-consuming dark Terry imposed, every bit of metal or particularly bright rock boring into him. Zeke breathed deep the smell of ceder and hot stone as he put his sunglasses back on.

“Coulda gone better.”

Roscoe laughed and put their hands on their knees. “It was not one of your better showings… I’m glad you’re in one piece.”

“Two pieces, but yeah.”

They laughed again as they straightened up, letting their arms hang loose. “But are you okay?”

“Okay as I’m gonna be. Feel kinda stupid.”

“Normal, then.”

Zeke punched their arm, smirking anyway, “Asshole…”

Across the lot, Juliette was hanging out the window, arms crossed on the edge.

Zeke looked to Roscoe, but from the corner of his eye, he could see movement in the lobby. Inside, Terry quickly looked away, the card still in both hands, face drawn. Zeke sighed. “Put it in the Rolodex… I think we’ll be back.”